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 In 12 volumes, small post 8vo, with numerous portraits and 
 
 facsimiles, $s. each 
 
 The Prose Works of Jonathan Swift 
 
 Edited by TEMPLE SCOTT 
 
 V 
 
 VOL. I. A TALE OF A TUB and other Early Works. Edited 
 
 by Temple Scott. With a biographical introduction by W. E. H. Lecky. 
 
 VOL. II. THE JOURNAL TO STELLA. Edited by Frederick 
 Ryland, M.A. 
 
 VOLS. Ill & IV. WRITINGS ON RELIGION AND THE 
 CHURCH. Edited by Temple Scott. 
 
 VOL. V. HISTORICAL AND POLITICAL TRACTS— ENG- 
 LISH. Edited by Temple Scott. 
 
 VOL. VI. THE DRAPIER'S LETTERS. Edited by Temple 
 Scott. 
 
 VOL VII. HISTORICAL AND POLITICAL TRACTS— IRISH. 
 
 Edited by Temple Scott. 
 
 ** VOL. VIII. GULLIVER'S TRAVELS. Edited by G. Ravens- 
 croft Dennis. 
 
 - VOL. IX. CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE " EXAMINER," 
 " TATLER," " SPECTATOR," etc. Edited by Temple Scott. 
 
 VOL. X. HISTORICAL WRITINGS. Edited by Temple Scott. 
 "OL. XL LITERARY ESSAYS. Edited by Temple Scott. 
 VOL. XII. BIBLIOGRAPHY, INDEX, ETC. 
 
 w % This volume contains Essays on the Portraits of Swift and Stella, by 
 Sir Frederick Falkiner, and on the Relations between Swift and Stella, by 
 the Very Rev. the Dean of St. Patrick's ; a Bibliography of Swift's Works 
 by W. Spencer Jackson ; and a General Index to the Twelve Volumes. 
 
 V 
 V 
 
 2 vols., small post 8vo, with Portrait, $s. 6d. each 
 
 The Poems of Jonathan Swift 
 
 Edited by W. E. BROWNING 
 
 In course of Issue. 6 vols. 8vo. ios. 6d. net each 
 Vols. I and II Now Ready 
 
 The Correspondence of Jonathan Swift 
 
 Edited by F. ELRINGTON BALL 
 
 With an Introduction by the Right Rev. the 
 
 BISHOP OF OSSORY, FERN, AND LEIGHLIN 
 
 LONDON: G. BELL AND SONS, LTD.
 
 BOHN'S STANDARD LIBRARY 
 
 THE PROSE WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT 
 
 VOL. I
 
 LONDON: G. BELL & SONS, LIMITED, 
 PORTUGAL STREET, KINGSWAY, W.C. 
 CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTON, BELL & CO. 
 NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN CO. 
 BOMBAY : A. H. WHEELER & CO.
 
 Irat&tr&fBotrtaei 
 
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 THE PROSE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 JONATHAN SWIFT, D.D. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 TEMPLE SCOTT 
 
 WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION BY 
 THE LATE W. E. H. LECKY 
 
 VOL I 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB, THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS 
 AND OTHER EARLY WORKS 
 
 LONDON 
 
 G. BELL AND SONS, LTD. 
 
 1911
 
 First published, 1897. 
 
 Reprinted, 1900, 1905; (with corrections) 1911.
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 '""THE need of a new edition of the collected works 
 of Swift having been evident to students of 
 English literature for many years past, it may be hoped 
 that the undertaking of which this volume is the com- 
 mencement will not in any quarter be regarded as 
 superfluous. The well-known edition of Sir Walter 
 Scott was issued for a second time in 1824, and since 
 that date there has been no serious attempt to grapple 
 with the difficulties which then prevented, and which 
 still beset the attainment of a trustworthy and sub- 
 stantially complete text. They were certainly not suc- 
 cessfully encountered in the edition by Roscoe in two 
 royal 8vo. volumes, the chief merit of which consists 
 in its comparative cheapness. 
 
 There have, however, not been wanting excellently 
 edited texts of Swift's more important works, and 
 many well-known students or lovers of Swift, either as 
 editors, biographers, or collectors of his works, have 
 been accumulating material which has now, perhaps 
 for the first time, made it possible to overcome the 
 difficulties whether as to genuineness or authenticity 
 of text with which the editor of Swift is so frequently 
 confronted. The work and researches of Mr. John 
 Forster, Mr. Henry Craik, Mr. Stanley Lane Poole,
 
 • • • 
 
 Vlll ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 Mr. Churton Collins, Mr. Leslie Stephen, Mr. Elwin, 
 Mr. Courthope, Colonel F. Grant, and others, have 
 made accessible new material which is indispensable 
 to other labourers in the same field, and to all of them 
 the general editor of the present edition desires to 
 express his indebtedness in one way or another. His 
 main object is to supply a correct, authentic, and, as 
 far as possible, complete text of Swift's works, and 
 with this object early printed editions and original 
 MSS. have been carefully collated. For the further- 
 ance of this work he has especially to thank Colonel 
 Grant, who generously placed at his service his in- 
 valuable -collection of Swift pamphlets. He must 
 also thank individually Mr. Stanley Lane Poole for 
 spontaneously sending him some useful information. 
 
 Though any systematic explanatory or critical an- 
 notation has not been regarded as within the scope of 
 this edition, a few footnotes have been included sup- 
 plementary to those in the original editions. These 
 are distinguished in this volume by the initials of the 
 writer, thus [S.] indicates Sir Walter Scott, [H.] 
 Hawkesworth, and [T. S.] the present editor. 
 
 Special attention has been given to the various por- 
 traits of Swift, most of which will be included in suc- 
 ceeding volumes of this edition. For much help and 
 advice in this matter thanks are due to Sir Frederick 
 Falkiner, Recorder of Dublin, to the Science and Art 
 Department at South Kensington, to Mr. Cust, the 
 Director of the National Portrait Gallery, and to Mr. 
 Strickland, of the National Gallery of Ireland. 
 
 The portrait which forms the frontispiece to this 
 volume was formerly in the possession of Mr. E. 
 Meade, and was lent by him to the National Portrait
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. ix 
 
 Exhibition held at South Kensington in 1867. The 
 present ownership of the picture is unknown, and it is 
 through the courtesy of the authorities at South Ken- 
 sington in permitting the use of the negative made at 
 the time of the exhibition, that the reproduction has 
 been possible. The portrait itself is extremely in- 
 teresting, in that it is the only one known, with any 
 claim to authenticity, which represents Dean Swift as 
 a young man. 
 
 The introductory biography contributed by Mr. 
 Lecky appeared originally in his volume on " Leaders 
 of Public Opinion in Ireland," published in 1861, but 
 it has been rewritten and a good deal amplified for its 
 present purpose. 
 
 1897. 
 
 NUMEROUS corrections have been made in the present 
 edition, and some new notes have been added by Mr. 
 W. Spencer Jackson. These are distinguished by the 
 initials [W. S. J.]. Thanks are due to Mr. A. Guthkelch 
 for several suggestions and improvements. 
 
 Jan. 1 9 10.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. By W. E. H. 
 
 Lecky, M.P xiii 
 
 RESOLUTIONS WHEN I COME TO BE OLD (Fac- 
 simile and Transcript) xcii 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB I 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS 155 
 
 DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL OPERATION OF 
 
 THE SPIRIT 189 
 
 PREFACES TO TEMPLE'S WORKS 211 
 
 DISCOURSE ON THE CONTESTS AND DISSEN- 
 SIONS BETWEEN THE NOBLES AND COM- 
 MONS IN ATHENS AND ROME 227 
 
 THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS 271 
 
 A TRITICAL ESSAY UPON THE FACULTIES OF 
 
 THE MIND 289 
 
 THE BICKERSTAFF PAMPHLETS 297 
 
 PREDICTIONS FOR THE YEAR 1708 299 
 
 THE ACCOMPLISHMENT OF THE FIRST OF MR. 
 
 BICKERSTAFF'S PREDICTIONS 311 
 
 VINDICATION OF ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ. . 317 
 
 A FAMOUS PREDICTION OF MERLIN .... 325 
 
 A MEDITATION UPON A BROOMSTICK 331
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 JONATHAN SWIFT was born in Dublin, on the 
 J 30th of March, 1667. His father, who had died a few 
 months before, was a younger son of a Herefordshire 
 rector, who had done much and suffered much for the 
 Royalist cause during the Civil War ; who had married 
 into the family from which the poet Dryden after- 
 wards sprang, and who left thirteen or fourteen 
 children, several of whom sought their fortunes in 
 Ireland. Godwin, the eldest son, rose rapidly to 
 considerable wealth and position, though unfortunate 
 speculations, a large family, and failing faculties 
 seriously crippled him towards the end of his life. 
 Jonathan, the father of our author, was the seventh or 
 eighth son. He worked for some years at the law 
 courts in Dublin, and was elected Steward of the King's 
 Inn, but only held this position for about fifteen months, 
 dying at the early age of twenty-five. He had married 
 a Leicestershire lady of good family, strong religious 
 views, and bright and estimable character, but with no 
 private means, and on the death of her husband she 
 was left with an infant daughter, an unborn son, some 
 debts, and little or nothing to live on, except an 
 annuity of ^20 a year. 
 
 The Swift family, however, was a very large one,
 
 XIV BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and Godwin Swift undertook the education of the 
 posthumous child. Jonathan Swift was on affectionate 
 terms with many members of his family, but of his 
 Uncle Godwin he always spoke with bitterness. He 
 considered him hard, penurious, and grudging in his 
 favours, and he even accused him of having given him 
 the "education of a dog." What measure of truth 
 there may be in this description, it is impossible to 
 say, but it is certain that Swift received the best 
 education Ireland could afford. He was sent when 
 only six years old to Kilkenny Grammar School, 
 which was then probably the most famous in Ireland, 
 and which had the rare fortune of educating, within a 
 few years, Swift, Congreve, and Berkeley. At fourteen 
 he entered Dublin University, and he remained there 
 for nearly seven years. The stories that were after- 
 wards circulated about his systematic defiance of 
 college discipline and college studies were probably 
 exaggerated, though it is evident that in the latter 
 part of his university life he was guilty of some acts 
 of not very serious insubordination, and that in his 
 studies he followed rather the bent of his own tastes 
 than the course of the university. He tells us that he 
 studied history and poetry, and he attained a fair 
 proficiency in Greek, Latin, and French ; but his 
 college course was entirely without brilliancy or 
 promise ; in his last term examination he failed in 
 two out of the three subjects, and he only obtained his 
 degree by " special favour." He afterwards spoke of 
 himself as having been at this time " so discouraged 
 and sunk in his spirits, that he too much neglected his 
 academic studies, for some parts of which he had no 
 great relish by nature."
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 Some anecdotes are preserved showing that at this 
 early age he already suffered from the morbid 
 melancholy, the bitter discontent with life, and what 
 life had given him, which pursued him to the end. 
 His Uncle Godwin died insane, and his own 
 circumstances were utterly precarious. He received 
 some assistance from another uncle who lived in 
 Dublin, and on one occasion, when absolutely penniless, 
 he was helped by an unexpected gift from a cousin at 
 Lisbon. There are no proofs that his great literary 
 talents were as yet born. The anecdote that he had 
 shown a rough copy of the " Tale of a Tub " to a 
 college friend when he was only nineteen, has been 
 decisively disproved. He mentions, however, in an 
 early letter, a characteristic saying of" a person of great 
 honour in Ireland," " that my mind was like a conjured 
 spirit that would do mischief if I did not give it 
 employment." 
 
 The outbreak of the Revolution produced an 
 immediate exodus of Protestants from Ireland, and 
 Swift retired to Leicestershire, where his mother had 
 for many years been living. His attachment to her 
 was deep and tender, and lasted during his whole life. 
 It was necessary for him to seek some immediate 
 means of livelihood, and in this critical period of his 
 life he had the great good fortune of finding a home 
 which placed him in close connection with one of 
 the first diplomatists and most experienced states- 
 men of his age. The father of Sir William Temple, 
 when Master of the Rolls in Ireland, had been on 
 terms of intimacy with the Swift family, and there 
 was some relationship or connection between Swift's 
 mother and the wife of Sir William Temple. Relying
 
 XVI BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 on this claim, and acting on the advice of his mother, 
 Swift applied to Temple, who at once received him 
 into his house at Moor Park in Surrey, in the position 
 of amanuensis or humble companion. 
 
 Sir William Temple was at this time sixty-one years 
 of age, and completely withdrawn from active politics. 
 He had a high and unblemished reputation, which 
 was all the greater because he had long been out- 
 side the competitions of life. His experiences had 
 been many and varied. He had represented the 
 county of Carlo w in the Irish parliament of 1660, had 
 been brought into the diplomatic career by the favour 
 of Arlington, and had won for himself an imperishable 
 fame as the chief author of the triple alliance of 
 England, Holland, and Sweden, which gave the first 
 serious check to the ambition of Louis XIV., and forms 
 the one bright page in the reign of Charles II. As 
 ambassador at the Hague he enjoyed the confidence 
 both of de Witt and of his great rival William of 
 Orange, and the respect of all honest men, but when 
 the Cabal made the treaty with France against Holland, 
 Temple was dismissed, and retired without reward to 
 his gardens and his books. The downfall of the Cabal 
 and the great outburst of popular indignation against 
 the French policy of Charles II. brought him again 
 into prominence. He negotiated the peace with 
 Holland, and refusing political, office became again 
 ambassador at the Hague, where he took a leading 
 part in negotiating the marriage of William with Mary, 
 and also the peace of Nimeguen. His reputation was 
 now very great, and Charles II. several times offered 
 him the post of Secretary of State, but Temple was 
 well aware that his character, talents, and tastes were
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XVli 
 
 far more suited for diplomacy than for the type of 
 statesmanship that prevailed at the Restoration. He 
 shrank alike from its passions, its corruption, its dangers, 
 its humiliations, and its responsibilities, and though for 
 a short time he was the confidential adviser of Charles, 
 and consented to take part in one of his administrations, 
 he gladly availed himself of the first opportunity to 
 retire from public life, which he never again entered. 
 At the Revolution his political ideas triumphed, and 
 William, who had learned to appreciate him at the 
 Hague, frequently consulted him, but he again refused 
 the offer of a Secretaryship of State. His habits were 
 now fully formed, and his ambition, which had never 
 been keen, had wholly gone. His gardens and his 
 books amply satisfied him. He wrote admirably pure } 
 graceful, and melodious English, and dallied in a feeble 
 way with literature, composing essays excellent in form, 
 but for the most part very vapid in substance, on 
 politics and gardens, on Chinese literature and the 
 evil of extremes. In one of these essays he described 
 "coolness of temper and blood and consequently 
 of desires " as " the great principle of virtue," and his 
 disposition almost realized his ideal. His bland, 
 stately, patronizing manners, his refined and somewhat 
 over-fastidious taste, his instinctive shrinking from tur- 
 moil, conflict, and controversy, denoted a man who was 
 a little weak and a little vain, and more fitted to shine in 
 a Court than in a Parliament. He had, however, real and 
 solid talents, a rare experience both of men and affairs, 
 a sound and moderate judgment in politics, a kindly 
 and placid nature, and his life, if it had not been distin- 
 guished by splendid virtues, had, at least, been transpa- 
 rently pure in an age when political purity was very rare. 
 I. b
 
 XV111 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 With such a character Swift had little natural 
 affinity. For good or evil, intensity was always one 
 of his leading characteristics. It was shown alike in 
 his friendships and his enmities, in his ambitions and 
 regrets. Few men were by nature less fitted for a 
 dependent and semi-menial position, less regardful of 
 the conventionalities of Society, less respectful to 
 those " solemn plausibilities of life " which at Moor 
 Park were greatly reverenced. He was, as he truly 
 said, " a raw and inexperienced youth," probably shy, 
 awkward, and ill at ease in his new position. " Don't 
 you remember," he afterwards wrote, " how I used to 
 be in pain when Sir W. Temple would look cold or 
 out of humour for three or four days, and I used to 
 suspect a hundred reasons ? I have plucked up my 
 spirits since then ; faith, he spoiled a fine gentleman ! " 
 He read to Temple, kept his accounts, discharged the 
 duties of secretary, and was pronounced by his patron 
 to be "very diligent and honest." By the interest of 
 Temple he obtained an " ad eundem " degree at 
 Oxford. Temple recommended him, though without 
 success, to Sir Robert Southwell, who was then 
 Secretary of State in Ireland, and he allowed him to 
 make long pedestrian visits to his mother at Leicester. 
 In these expeditions Swift mixed much with the 
 poorest classes of the people, lived in the humblest 
 inns, giving an extra sixpence for a clean sheet, and 
 acquired a knowledge of men which he afterwards 
 said taught him more than his intercourse with states- 
 men, and also a taste for coarse or plebeian imagery 
 which sometimes strengthens and often disfigures his 
 writings. Probably no other English writer ever 
 understood so well or reproduced so faithfully the
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XIX 
 
 thoughts, feelings, and dialect of servants ; of the cook, 
 the valet, the chambermaid, or the ostlers who hung 
 about the smaller village inns. It was at this time 
 also that he was first seized with those attacks of pro- 
 longed giddiness and deafness which pursued him 
 through life. He attributed them to a fit of indiges- 
 tion brought on by eating too many apples, but some 
 modern authorities have seen in them the beginning of 
 the brain disease which never wholly left him, and 
 which threw a dark shadow over the closing years of 
 his life. 
 
 We read little in connection with Swift of Temple's 
 wife, the Dorothy Osborne whose charming letters are 
 so well known. She died five years after Swift had 
 entered into the house, and the establishment seems 
 to have been managed by Temple's widowed sister, 
 Lady Giffard, with whom at a later period Swift 
 violently quarrelled. She had about her, sometimes 
 in the house and sometimes in a neighbouring cottage, 
 as companion or confidential servant, a Mrs. Johnson, 
 widow of an old servant of Sir William Temple, and 
 mother of two daughters. Esther Johnson, the elder 
 of these daughters, was seven years old when Swift 
 entered Moor Park. The young Irishman at once 
 formed a deep attachment to this bright but delicate 
 girl. He became her favourite playfellow. He 
 taught her to write, guided her maturing mind, in- 
 vented a charming child language for her use, and in 
 after years under the name of Stella she became 
 indissolubly twined with all that was tenderest in his 
 life. 
 
 The position of Swift at Moor Park gradually 
 improved, and Temple was quite perspicacious enough
 
 XX BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to give him his full confidence and employ him on 
 matters of grave moment. On one occasion Temple 
 sent him to the king on an unsuccessful mission to 
 persuade William to give his assent to the Triennial 
 Bill. William seems to have seen Swift on more than 
 one occasion. He is said to have taught him how to 
 cut and eat asparagus in the Dutch manner, and to 
 have offered to make him captain in a regiment of 
 cavalry, and some time after he promised him a 
 prebend in case he entered the Church. The literary 
 talents of the young secretary were beginning slowly 
 to develope in the form of poetry, but Pindaric odes 
 and poems in praise of Temple were certainly not the 
 forms in which nature intended him to succeed, and 
 his cousin Dryden administered a salutary though 
 much-resented rebuke when he told Swift that he 
 would never be a poet. In some forms of poetry, 
 indeed, Swift afterwards eminently excelled. No one 
 obtained a more complete mastery over the octosyllabic 
 metre, or could condense into a few lines greater force 
 of meaning, fiercer satire, or more graphic delineations 
 of character. It is impossible to deny the name of poet 
 to the writer of " The Lines on his own Death," of 
 " The Lines written in Sickness," of " The Legion 
 Club," of " Cadenus and Vanessa." and of some of the 
 poems written to Stella. But conventional eulogy 
 and compliment were very alien to his genius, and an 
 intense and almost terrible sincerity was one of the 
 chief elements of his power. 
 
 Swift continued with some considerable intervals at 
 Moor Park till the summer of 1694. He believed, 
 however, that Temple had not sufficiently pushed his 
 interests, and being now in his twenty-seventh year
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XXI 
 
 he had grown impatient, and, greatly to Temple's 
 indignation, he resolved to leave Moor Park, to go 
 to Ireland, and to enter the Church. He refused 
 a clerkship of £120 a year in the Irish Rolls which 
 was offered to him by Temple, and he at one time 
 thought of accepting the chaplaincy of an English 
 factory at Lisbon with which his cousin was con- 
 nected. The Church preferment which he had hoped 
 from the king was not forthcoming, and on going to 
 Ireland to be ordained he found to his great disap- 
 pointment that a letter of recommendation from 
 Temple was required by the bishop. He had parted 
 from Temple in anger, and the letter which he wrote 
 to Temple asking for this testimonial was in a strain of 
 great humility. There was no real reason, however, 
 why it should have been refused, nor does Temple 
 appear to have made any difficulty or reproaches. 
 Swift was ordained, and he obtained a small living of 
 Kilroot, which was situated in a remote district, chiefly 
 inhabited by Presbyterians, on the borders of Belfast 
 Lough. 
 
 We know little authentic of his life there, except 
 that it was broken by a brief and unsuccessful love 
 affair with the sister of his old college friend Warinsr 
 The exile was not pleasing to him, and the Irish 
 Presbyterians among whom he at this time chiefly 
 lived afterwards became the objects of one of the 
 most vehement of his many antipathies. Temple, on 
 the other hand, appears greatly to have missed his old 
 secretary and companion, and he wrote warmly asking 
 him to return to Moor Park. Swift soon consented, 
 and in 1696 he was again installed in the house of 
 Temple. For a short time a clerical friend filled
 
 XX11 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 his place at Kilroot, but he resigned the living in 
 1698. 
 
 His last stay at Moor Park continued till the death 
 of Temple in January, 1699. The relations of Swift 
 to his patron appear now to have been very cordial, 
 and Swift found his old pupil Esther Johnson rapidly 
 developing into womanhood. She was not quite 
 fifteen when Swift returned to Moor Park. " I knew 
 her," Swift afterwards wrote, " from six years old, and 
 had some share in her education by directing what 
 books she should read, and perpetually instructing 
 her in the principles of honour and virtue from which 
 she never swerved in any one action or moment of her 
 life. She was sickly from her childhood until about 
 the age of fifteen, but then grew into perfect health, 
 and was looked upon as one of the most beautiful, 
 graceful, and agreeable young women in London, only 
 a little too fat. Her hair was blacker than a raven, 
 and every feature of her face in perfection. . . . Never 
 was any of her sex born with better gifts of the mind, 
 or who more improved them by reading and conver- 
 sation." 
 
 It is remarkable that a writer who was destined to 
 become the greatest of English humourists, and one of 
 the greatest masters of English prose, should have 
 wholly failed to discover his true talents before his 
 twenty-ninth year. There is some reason to believe 
 that the first sketch of "The Tale of a Tub" was 
 written at Kilroot, but it was on his return to Moor 
 Park in 1697 that this great work assumed its com- 
 plete form, though it was not published till 1704. To 
 the same period also belongs that exquisite piece of 
 humour, " The Battle of the Books," the one lasting
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XX111 
 
 fruit of the silly controversy about the comparative 
 merits of the ancient and modern writers which 
 then greatly occupied writers both in France and 
 England, and into which Temple, though totally 
 destitute of classical scholarship, had foolishly flung 
 himself. Of the merits of the controversy which such 
 scholars as Bentley and Wotton waged with the 
 Christ Church wits, the world has long since formed 
 its opinion ; but the fact that the burlesque was 
 intended to ridicule the party who were incontestably 
 in the right does not detract from its extraordinary 
 literary merits. It appears to have been written to 
 amuse or gratify Temple, and it was not published 
 till 1704. 
 
 Temple left Esther Johnson a small landed property 
 in Ireland, where she lived with Mrs. Dingley, a 
 distant relative of Temple, who became her lifelong 
 companion, and was herself the possessor of a small 
 competence. Swift urged upon them that living 
 was much cheaper, and the rate of interest higher 
 in Ireland than in England, and it was by his advice 
 that they went over to Ireland in 1708. To Swift, 
 Temple left a small legacy, and the charge and 
 profit of publishing a collected edition of his works, 
 which he duly accomplished in five volumes. He 
 dedicated them to the king, who, however, did 
 nothing for him ; but he became chaplain to the Earl 
 of Berkeley, who had been appointed one of the Lords 
 Justices in Ireland, and he lived with him for some 
 time at Dublin Castle. As was not unusual with 
 Swift, he considered that he was much neglected, and 
 he expressed his indignation in no measured terms. 
 The post of secretary, which he thought should have
 
 XXIV BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 gone with that of chaplain, was given to another, and 
 he failed in his application for the rich deanery of 
 Derry. He obtained, however, the small living of 
 Laracor, near Trim, in the county of Meath, and two 
 or three other pieces of almost sinecure Church 
 patronage. The united income seems to have been 
 about ^230. The congregation at Laracor was not 
 more than about fifteen, and when he endeavoured to 
 introduce a week-day service he is said to have found 
 himself alone with his clerk. After a certain time he 
 followed the example which was then so common in 
 the Irish Church of leaving the duties of Laracor to a 
 curate, but it is remarkable that he enlarged the glebe 
 from one acre to twenty acres, and endowed the 
 church with tithes which he had himself bought, and 
 it is still more remarkable that he made a provision 
 in his will that the tithes should pass to the poor in 
 the event of the disestablishment of the Church. 
 
 Swift was already moving familiarly in the best 
 society connected with the government of Ireland. 
 His dispute with Lord Berkeley led to no breach ; he 
 speaks with much respect and affection of Lady 
 Berkeley, and with one of the daughters, Lady Betty 
 Germaine, he formed one of those long, warm, and 
 steady friendships which are among the most charac- 
 teristic features of his life. He was chaplain to the 
 Duke of Ormond, who became Lord-Lieutenant of 
 Ireland in 1703, and to the Earl of Pembroke, who 
 succeeded him, and in many visits to London he soon 
 became a familiar figure among the writers and politi- 
 cians of the metropolis. The " Discourse on the 
 Contests and Dissensions in Athens and Rome," 
 which is his earliest political writing, was published
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XXV 
 
 anonymously in 1701. It was written when the two 
 Houses of Parliament were in conflict about the pro- 
 posed impeachment by the Tory party of Somers and 
 three other Whig ministers who had taken part in the 
 Partition treaty, and it was intended to support the 
 House of Lords in resisting that impeachment. At the 
 same time, though it was a Whig pamphlet, probably 
 composed under the influence of Lord Berkeley, those 
 who read it carefully will easily perceive that it is in no 
 essential respects inconsistent with the later writings of 
 the author when he was the great supporter of the Tory 
 party. The Church questions which chiefly determined 
 his later policy were not here at issue. The evils of 
 party spirit, the necessity of preserving a balance of 
 power in the State, the opposite dangers to be feared 
 from the despotism of an individual and from the des- 
 potism of a majority, the wisdom of making great 
 changes in government so gradually that the old forms 
 may continue unbroken, and the new elements may 
 be slowly and insensibly incorporated into them — 
 are all familiar topics in his later writings. In an age 
 when reporting and newspaper criticism were still 
 unborn, the political pamphlet exercised an enormous 
 influence, and the pamphlet of Swift, though much 
 less remarkable than several which he afterwards 
 wrote, excited considerable attention, and was at- 
 tributed to Bishop Burnet. The true authorship 
 was soon known, and it strengthened his social posi- 
 tion in London. He became intimate with Somers 
 and several of the Whig leaders, and it is from 
 this time that may be dated that friendship with 
 Addison which, in spite of great differences of 
 political opinion and still greater differences of charac-
 
 XXVI BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ter, was never wholly eclipsed. The copy of his 
 Italian travels which Addison presented to Swift may 
 still be seen bearing the well-known autograph in- 
 scription, " To Dr. Jonathan Swift — the most agreeable 
 companion, the truest friend, and the greatest genius 
 of his age." Swift afterwards speaks of the many 
 evenings he had spent alone with Addison, never 
 wishing for a third. He described Addison as one 
 who had " virtue enough to give reputation to an age," 
 and he consented at the advice of Addison to cut out 
 some eighty lines of his " Baucis and Philemon," and 
 to alter many others. 
 
 " Whoever has a true value for Church and State," 
 Swift wrote at a later period, " should avoid the 
 extremes of Whig for the sake of the former and the 
 extremes of Tory on account of the latter." In these 
 words we have the true key to his politics. He was 
 at no period of his life a Jacobite. He fully and 
 cordially accepted the Revolution, and either never 
 held the Tory doctrine of the divine right of kings, or 
 at least accepted the king de facto as the rightful 
 sovereign. As long as the question was mainly a 
 question of dynasty he was frankly Whig, and it was 
 natural that a young man who was formed in the 
 school of Temple should have taken this side. On 
 the other hand, Swift was beyond all things a Church- 
 man, and was accustomed to subordinate every other 
 consideration to the furtherance of Church interests. 
 In each period of his life this intense ecclesiastical 
 sentiment appears. Coarse and irreverent as are many 
 passages in the " Tale of a Tub," which was published 
 in 1704, the main purport of the book was to defend the 
 Church of England, by pouring a torrent of ridicule and
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XXV11 
 
 hatred on all its opponents, whether they be Papists, 
 or Nonconformists, or Freethinkers. In his " Project 
 for the Reformation of Manners," in his " Sentiments 
 of a Church of England Man," in his " Argument 
 against the Abolition of Christianity," in his " Letter to 
 a Member of Parliament concerning the Sacramental 
 Test," all of which were written when he was still 
 ostensibly a Whig, the same decided Church feeling is 
 more reverently expressed. It appeared not less 
 clearly in his later Irish tracts, when it was his clear 
 political interest to endeavour to unite all religions in 
 Ireland in support of his Irish policy. The abolition 
 of the Test Act, which excluded Nonconformists from 
 office, was opposed by Swift at every period of his 
 life. In the reign of Queen Anne, and especially 
 in its later years, party politics grouped themselves 
 mainly on ecclesiastical lines. It was on the cry of 
 Church in danger that the Tory party rode tnto power 
 in 1 710, and the close alliance between the Whigs and 
 the Nonconformists, and between the Tories and the 
 Church, was the main fact governing the party divi- 
 sions of the time. There could be no doubt to which 
 side Swift would inevitably gravitate. 
 
 He was still, however, a nominal Whig when he 
 went over to London in 1707, chiefly at the request of 
 Archbishop King, to endeavour to obtain for the Irish 
 clergy a remission of the firstfruits and tenths which 
 had been already conceded to the English clergy, and 
 he was very indignant at hearing that the Whig 
 ministers were desirous of coupling this favour to the 
 Irish clergy with the abolition of the Test against 
 Nonconformists in Ireland. There was at this time 
 some question of his obtaining high office in the Irish
 
 XXVlii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Church, for Somers had recommended him for the 
 bishopric of Waterford. To Swift's great disappoint- 
 ment it was given to another, and this was but the 
 first of several succeeding disappointments. The queen 
 appears to have been inflexibly opposed to his promo- 
 tion, and her feeling is said to have been largely due to 
 a perusal of the " Tale of a Tub." Sharpe, the Arch- 
 bishop of York, is reported to have brought this great 
 work to her notice, and to have represented the author 
 as a manifest Freethinker. Like most of Swift's works, 
 the " Tale of a Tub " was published anonymously, but 
 the authorship was soon known. Those who have 
 read and have understood the pages describing the sect 
 of the iEolists, and the manner in which Brother Peter 
 maintained with many oaths and curses that his 
 "brown loaf" was "by God true, good natural mutton 
 as any in Leadenhall Market," will not greatly wonder 
 at the scruples of the queen. 
 
 Swift had, however, other moods, and some of his 
 ecclesiastical tracts are models of temperate, clear- 
 sighted, and decorous piety. His " Sentiments of a 
 Church of England Man," which was written in 1708, 
 describes with perfect truth and frankness the position 
 of that large body of the clergy who accepted without 
 scruple the settlement of the Revolution as saving the 
 nation from the danger of Popery, but who were gradu- 
 ally alienated from the Whig party by its latitudinarian 
 or Nonconformist tendencies. His " Proposal for the 
 Advancement of Religion," which appeared in the 
 following year, is one of the best descriptions of the 
 moral evils of the time, and a passage in it is said to have 
 been the origin of the measure which was afterwards 
 taken for building fifty new churches in London. In
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XXIX 
 
 another strain he wrote his famous argument against 
 abolishing Christianity, in which he brought all the re- 
 sources of the keenest wit to bear against the Free- 
 thinkers, and about the same period he published his 
 tract on the proposed abolition of the sacramental test 
 in Ireland, displaying his intense antipathy to the 
 Scotch Presbyterianism in Ulster, which he considered 
 the one great danger of the Irish establishment. 
 The Papists he looked on as completely broken 
 and powerless, "inconsiderable as the women and 
 children." Swift complains bitterly that the Whig 
 ministers were endeavouring to ingratiate themselves 
 with their English Nonconformist supporters by 
 sacrificing the interests of the Episcopalians in 
 Ireland, and it is at this time that his open aliena- 
 tion from the Whig party occurred. As Mr. Leslie 
 Stephen justly says, Swift " separated from the 
 Whig party when at the height of their power, and 
 separated because he thought them opposed to the 
 Church principles which he advocated from first to last." 
 The power of the Whig party, however, though 
 supported by the popularity of the great French war 
 and the victories of Marlborough, proved very 
 transient, and the explosion of Church feeling that 
 followed the impeachment of Sacheverell at the end 
 of 1709 was one of the chief causes of their downfall. 
 Swift welcomed the change with delight, and one of its 
 first results was the concession by Harley of that boon 
 to the Irish clergy which Swift had been so long vainly 
 seeking to extort from the Whigs. His old Whig friends 
 made great efforts to retain him on their side, but his 
 part was soon taken, and with the principles he had 
 avowed no real blame can attach to him for having
 
 XXX BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 thrown in his lot with Harley, with whom he soon 
 formed the closest friendship, both personal and 
 political. In the eyes of historians Harley has com- 
 monly appeared only as a slow, dull, procrastinating 
 man of good private morals and some talent both for 
 business and for intrigue, but utterly without any real 
 superiority of intellect or character, and he presents a 
 strange contrast to St. John, his colleague in the 
 ministry, one of the most brilliant, versatile, and 
 seductive figures that have ever flashed across the 
 stage of English politics. Yet it is remarkable how 
 much more weight Harley carried in the country than 
 St. John, and in spite of Swift's warm friendship with 
 the latter, Harley always seems to have inspired him 
 with the deepest affection and the fullest confidence. 
 
 With the Church policy of the Tory party under 
 Queen Anne, indeed, Swift was in the fullest agree- 
 ment. It showed itself in the concession of the first- 
 fruits to the Irish clergy, in the Act of Toleration of 
 1712 relieving the Scotch Episcopalians, and in the 
 project for erecting new churches in London, and not 
 less clearly in the hostility to the Nonconformists 
 which manifested itself in the temporary withdrawal 
 of the Regium Donum from the Irish Presbyterians, 
 and in the Occasional Conformity and the Schism 
 Acts, which were justly regarded as among the most 
 oppressive religious measures of the time. Swift, 
 indeed, was no champion of religious liberty, and 
 there can be little doubt that the sentiments which he 
 put into the mouth of the King of Brobdingnag were 
 his own : " He knew no reason why those who enter- 
 tained opinions prejudicial to the public should be 
 obliged to change, and should not be obliged to
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xxxi 
 
 conceal them. And as it was tyranny in any govern- 
 ment to require the first, so it was weakness not to 
 enforce the second ; for a man may be allowed to 
 keep poisons in his closet, but not to send them about 
 for cordials." 
 
 With the other great object of the party — the 
 termination of the war — Swift was equally in accord. 
 The belief that the war had been unnecessarily pro- 
 longed for party purposes ; that overtures which 
 might have honourably terminated it had been more 
 than once rejected ; that England of all the allied 
 powers had now the least interest in its issues, while 
 she bore by far the largest share of its burdens, was 
 growing steadily in the country, and was certainly by 
 no means without foundation. It had always been a 
 Tory doctrine that the Revolution of 1688 had unduly 
 mixed England in Continental quarrels, and that from 
 the days of William there had been a desire to use 
 English resources for Continental objects. The 
 present war was originally a Whig war, mainly 
 supported by the Whig party, and conducted by a 
 great Whig general, and the Emperor and the Dutch 
 who gained most by it were violently hostile to the 
 Tories, and had exerted their influence with the 
 queen to dissuade her from giving her countenance to 
 that party. It was also a favourite Tory doctrine, 
 with which Swift most cordially sympathized, that the 
 large loans necessitated by the war had given the 
 moneyed classes, who were the chief supporters of the 
 Whigs, a power which was lowering the position of 
 the landed gentry, and even threatening the ruin of 
 English liberty. "We have carried on wars," he 
 wrote, " that we might fill the pockets of stockjobbers.
 
 XXXli BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 .... We are governed by upstarts who are unsettling 
 the landmarks of our social system, and are displacing 
 the influence of our landed gentry by that class of 
 men who find their profit in our woes. ... A change 
 has now come which will awake the nation to a sense 
 of its mistakes, will recover the rightful influence of 
 the landed gentry, and will rid us of the pestilential 
 swarm of stockjobbers who are confederate with the 
 Whigs." For all these reasons the termination of the 
 war was regarded by the Tory party as a supreme 
 party, as well as a supreme national interest. 
 
 Swift, more than any other single man, contributed 
 to impress this conviction on the mind of the nation. 
 It is, however, creditable to his sagacity, that although 
 he detested Marlborough, and although he devoted 
 one of the most ingenious papers in the " Examiner " 
 to a contrast between the rewards given to the 
 English general and those which had been bestowed 
 on conquerors in ancient Rome, he clearly warned 
 his party of the dangers of the scurrilous attacks on 
 Marlborough which were common in the Tory papers ; 
 he more than once, as he tells us, was the means of 
 suppressing such attacks, and he did not approve of 
 the dismissal of Marlborough from his command. In 
 general Swift seldom scrupled to employ the most 
 violent personal scurrility against his opponents. 
 Nothing in political literature is more unmeasured in 
 its invective than his attacks upon Wharton, and he 
 did not even spare Somers, who had been both his 
 friend and his patron, but of Marlborough he never 
 failed to write in terms of moderation. 
 
 A few lines may be devoted to the other political 
 opinions of Swift, as they mark the principles of the
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XXX1U 
 
 Tories in the early days of the Revolution settlement. 
 " Law," he said, " in a free country is, or ought to be, 
 the determination of the majority of those who have 
 property in land." In that remarkable " Essay on 
 Public Absurdities," which was published after his death, 
 he deplored that persons without landed property 
 could by means of the boroughs obtain an entrance 
 into Parliament, and that the suffrage had been 
 granted to any one who was not a member of the 
 Established Church, and he condemned absolutely the 
 system of standing armies which had recently grown 
 up. On the other hand, on some questions of 
 Parliamentary reform, he held very advanced views. 
 Like most of his party he strenuously advocated 
 annual Parliaments, believing them to be the only 
 true foundation of liberty, and the only means of 
 putting an end to corrupt traffic between ministers 
 and members of Parliament. He blamed the custom 
 of throwing the expense of an election upon a candi- 
 date ; the custom of making forty-shilling freeholders 
 in order to give votes to landlords, and the immunity 
 of members and of their servants from civil suits. 
 " It is likewise," he says, " absurd that boroughs 
 decayed are not absolutely extinguished, because the 
 returned members do in reality represent nobody at 
 all ; and that several large towns are not represented, 
 though full of industrious townsmen." 
 
 The four years of the Harley administration form 
 the most brilliant and probably the happiest period of 
 his life. His genius had now reached its full maturity, 
 and he found the sphere which beyond all others was 
 most fitted for its exercise. In many of the qualities 
 of effective political writing he has never been 
 
 I. c
 
 xxxiv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 surpassed. Without the grace and delicacy of Addison, 
 without the rich imaginative eloquence or the profound 
 philosophic insight of Burke, he was a far greater 
 master of that terse, homely, and nervous logic which 
 appeals most powerfully to the English mind, and no 
 writer has ever excelled him in the vivid force of his 
 illustrations, in trenchant, original, and inventive wit, 
 or in concentrated malignity of invective or satire. 
 With all the intellectual and most of the moral qualities 
 of the most terrible partisan he combined many of the 
 gifts of a consummate statesman — a marvellous power 
 of captivating those with whom he came in contact, 
 great skill in reading characters and managing men, a 
 rapid, decisive judgment in emergencies, an eminently 
 practical mind, seizing with a happy tact the common- 
 sense view of every question he treated, and almost 
 absolutely free from the usual defects of mere literary 
 politicians. But for his profession he might have 
 risen to the highest posts of English statesmanshipj 
 and in spite of his profession, and without any of the 
 advantages of rank or office, he was for some time 
 one of the most influential men in England. He 
 stemmed the tide of political literature, which had been 
 flowing strongly against his party, and the admir- 
 able force of his popular reasoning, as well as the 
 fierce virulence of his attacks, placed him at once in 
 the first position in the fray. The Tory party, assailed 
 by almost overwhelming combinations from without, 
 and distracted by the most serious divisions within, 
 found in him its most powerful defender. Its leaders 
 were divided by interest, by temperament, and, in some 
 degree, even by policy ; but Swift gained a great 
 ascendency over their minds and a great influence in
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XXXV 
 
 their councils, and his persuasions long averted the 
 impending collision. Its extreme members had formed 
 themselves into a separate body, and were clamouring 
 for the expulsion of all Whigs from office ; but Swift's 
 I Letter of Advice to the ' October Club ' " effected the 
 dissolution of that body, and the threatened schism 
 was prevented. The nation, dazzled by the genius of 
 Marlborough, was for a time fiercely opposed to a 
 party whose policy was peace, but Swift's " Examiners " 
 gradually modified this opposition, and his " Conduct 
 of the Allies " for a time completely quelled it. The 
 success of this most masterly pamphlet has few 
 parallels in history: 11,000 copies were sold in about 
 two months. It for a time almost reversed the current 
 of public opinion, and was one of the chief influences 
 that enabled the ministers to conclude the Peace of 
 Utrecht. 
 
 The social position of Swift at this time was equally 
 brilliant. Notwithstanding his coarseness and capricious 
 violence, and an occasional eccentricity of manner 
 which indicated not obscurely the seeds of insanity, 
 the brilliancy of his conversation made him the delight 
 of every society, and his sayings became the proverbs 
 of every coffee-house. He had friends of all parties, of 
 all creeds, and of all characters. In the course of a 
 few years he was intimate with Addison and Steele, 
 with Halifax, Congreve, Prior, Pope, Arbuthnot, and 
 Peterborough, with Harley and St. John, and most 
 of the other leaders of the day. In spite of the 
 gloomy misanthropy of his temperament, and the 
 savage recklessness with which he too often employed 
 his powers of sarcasm, he was capable of splendid 
 generosity and of the truest and most constant
 
 XXXVI BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 friendship. Few men have obtained a deeper or 
 more lasting affection, and we may well place the 
 testimony of the illustrious men who knew him best in 
 opposition to the literary judgments of posterity. 
 '* Dear friend," wrote Arbuthnot in after years, " the 
 last sentence of your letter plunged a dagger in my 
 heart. Never repeat those sad but tender words, that 
 you will try to forget me. For my part, I can never 
 forget you, at least till I discover, which is impossible, 
 another friend whose conversation could procure me 
 the pleasure I have found in yours." Addison, as we 
 have already seen, spoke of him in language of 
 unqualified affection. Pope, after a friendship of 
 twenty-three years, wrote of him to Lord Orrery, 
 " My sincere love of that valuable, indeed incomparable 
 man, will accompany him through life, and pursue his 
 memory were I to live a hundred lives, as many of his 
 works will live which are absolutely original, unequalled, 
 unexampled. His humanity, his charity, his con- 
 descension, his candour, are equal to his wit, and 
 require as good and true a taste to be equally valued." 
 Undoubtedly, in the first instance, many of these 
 friendships arose from gratitude. Literature had not 
 yet arrived at the period when it could dispense with 
 patrons, and one of the legitimate goals to which every 
 literary man aspired was a place under the State. 
 This naturally drew the chief writers around Swift, 
 and the manner in which he at this time employed his 
 influence is one of the most pleasing features of his 
 career. There is scarcely a man of genius of the age 
 who was not indebted to him. Even his political 
 opponents, even men who had written violently against 
 his party, obtained places by his influence. Berkeley
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XXXVli 
 
 was drawn by him from the retirement of college 
 recommended more than once to the leading Tories, 
 and placed upon the highway of promotion. Congreve 
 was secured at his request in the place which the 
 Whigs had given him. Parnell, Steele, Gay, and Rowe 
 were among those who received places or other favours 
 by his solicitation. He said himself, with a justifiable 
 pride, that he had provided for more than fifty people, 
 not one of whom was a relation. His influence in 
 society as well as with the government was ceaselessly 
 employed in favour of literature. He founded the 
 " Scriblerus Club," in which many of the chief writers 
 of the day joined ; he exerted himself earnestly in 
 bringing Pope forward, and obtaining subscriptions 
 for his translation of Homer. He pressed upon the 
 attention of the government a plan, though not a very 
 wise one, for watching over the purity of the language, 
 and he on every occasion insisted on marked deference 
 being paid to literary men. He himself took an exceed- 
 ingly high, and indeed arrogant, tone with Harley and 
 St. John ; and when the former sent him a sum of 
 money as a compensation for his services, he was so 
 offended that their friendship was wellnigh broken for 
 ever. That this tone was not the mere vulgar insolence 
 of an upstart, is sufficiently proved by the deep attach- 
 ment manifested towards him by both Harley and 
 St. John long after their political connection had 
 terminated. 
 
 During all this time Swift kept up a continual 
 correspondence with Stella, in the shape of a journal, 
 recording with the utmost minuteness the events of 
 every day. We have the clearest possible evidence 
 that this journal was not intended for any other
 
 xxxviii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 eyes than those of Stella and Mrs. Dingley. It is 
 filled with terms of the most childish endearment, 
 with execrable puns, with passages written with his 
 eyes shut, with extempore verses and extempore 
 proverbs, with the records of every passing caprice, 
 of every hope, fear, and petty annoyance. In this 
 strange and touching journal we can trace clearly 
 the eminence to which he rose, and also the shadows 
 that overcast his mind. One of the principal of these 
 was the gradual decline of his friendship with Addison. 
 Addison's habitual coldness had, at first, completely 
 yielded to the charms of Swift's conversation, and, 
 notwithstanding the great dissimilarity of their cha- 
 racters, they lived on the most intimate terms. But 
 Swift was a strong Tory, and Addison was a strong 
 Whig ; and Addison was almost identified with Steele, 
 who was still more violent in his politics, and who, 
 though he had received favours from Swift, had made 
 a violent and wholly unjust personal attack upon his 
 benefactor, 1 which elicited an equally violent reply ; 
 and these things tended to the dissolution of the 
 friendship. There was never an open breach, but 
 their intercourse lost its old cordiality. " I went to 
 Mr. Addison's," wrote Swift in his journal, " and dined 
 with him at his lodgings. I had not seen him these 
 three weeks ; we are grown common acquaintance, 
 yet what have I not done for his friend Steele ! Mr. 
 Harley reproached me the last time I saw him, that, 
 to please me, he would be reconciled to Steele, and 
 had promised and appointed to see him, and that 
 Steele never came. Harrison, whom Mr. Addison 
 
 1 In a pamphlet called " The Crisis."
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xxxix 
 
 recommended to me, I have introduced to the 
 Secretary of State, who has promised me to take care 
 of him ; and I have represented Addison himself so to 
 the Ministry, that they think and talk in his favour, 
 though they hated him before. Well, he is now in my 
 debt — there is an end ; and I never had the least 
 obligation to him — and there is another end." 
 
 Another source of annoyance to Swift was the 
 difficulty with which he obtained Church preferment. 
 He knew that his political position was exceed- 
 ingly transient ; he had no resources except his 
 living. He appears to have taken no pains to make 
 profit from his writings. " I never got a farthing," he 
 wrote in 1735, "by anything I wrote, except once 
 about eight years ago, and that was by Mr. Pope's 
 prudent management for me." By his influence at 
 least one bishopric and many other places had been 
 given away, and yet he was unable to obtain for 
 himself any preferment that would place him above 
 the vicissitudes of politics. The antipathy of the 
 queen was unabated ; the Duchess of Somerset, 
 whose influence at Court was very great, and whom 
 Swift had bitterly and coarsely satirized, employed 
 herself with untiring hatred in opposing his promo- 
 tion, and all the remonstrances of the ministers and 
 all the entreaties of Lady Masham were unable to 
 overcome the determination of the queen. 
 
 The charge of scepticism was one which Swift 
 bitterly resented, and there is no class whom he more 
 savagely assailed than the Deists of his time. At 
 the same time no one can be surprised that such a 
 charge should be brought against a writer who wrote 
 as Swift had done in the " Tale of a Tub " about the
 
 xl BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Roman Catholic doctrine concerning the Sacrament 
 and the Calvinistic doctrine concerning inspiration. 
 And although the " Tale of a Tub " is an extreme 
 example, the same spirit pervades many of his 
 other performances, especially those wonderful lines 
 about the Judgment of the World by Jupiter, 
 which Chesterfield sent to Voltaire. 1 His wit was per- 
 fectly unbridled. His unrivalled power of ludicrous 
 combination seldom failed to get the better of his 
 prudence, and he found it impossible to resist a jest. 
 It must be added that no writer of the time indulged 
 more habitually in coarse, revolting, and indecent 
 imagery ; that he delighted in a strain of ribald abuse 
 peculiarly unbecoming in a clergyman ; that he was 
 the intimate friend of Bolingbroke and Pope, whose 
 freethinking opinions were notorious, and that he fre- 
 quently expressed a strong dislike for his profession. 
 In one of his poems he describes himself as — 
 
 " A clergyman of special note 
 For shunning those of his own coat, 
 Which made his brethren of the gown 
 Take care betimes to run him down." 
 
 1 " With a whirl of thought oppress'd, 
 I sunk from reverie to rest. 
 A horrid vision seized my head, 
 I saw the graves give up their dead ! 
 Jove, arm'd with terrors, burst the skies, 
 And thunder roars and lightning flies ! 
 Amazed, confused, its fate unknown, 
 The world stands trembling at his throne i 
 While each pale sinner hung his head, 
 Jove, nodding, shook the heavens, and said : 
 ' Offending race of human kind, 
 By nature, reason, learning, blind ;
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Xll 
 
 In another poem he says : 
 
 " A genius in a reverend gown 
 Will always keep its owner down ; 
 'Tis an unnatural conjunction, 
 And spoils the credit of the function. 
 
 " And as, of old, mathematicians 
 Were by the vulgar thought magicians, 
 So academic dull ale-drinkers 
 Pronounce all men of wit freethinkers." 
 
 At the same time, while it must be admitted that 
 Swift was far from being a model clergyman, it is, I 
 conceive, a misapprehension to regard him as a 
 secret disbeliever in Christianity. He was admir- 
 ably described by St. John as " a hypocrite reversed." 
 He disguised as far as possible both his religion 
 and his affections, and took a morbid pleasure in 
 parading the harsher features of his nature. If we 
 bear this in mind, the facts of his life seem entirely 
 incompatible with the hypothesis of habitual concealed 
 unbelief. I do not allude merely to the vehemence 
 with which he at all times defended the interests 
 of the Church, nor yet to the scrupulousness with 
 which he discharged his functions as a clergyman, 
 
 You who, through frailty, stepp'd aside ; 
 And you, who never fell — from pride : 
 You who in different sects were shamm'd, 
 And come to see each other damn'd ; 
 (So some folk told you, but they knew 
 No more of Jove's designs than you ;) 
 — The world's mad business now is o'er, 
 And I resent these pranks no more. 
 — I to such blockheads set my wit ! 
 I damn such fools ! — Go, go, you're bit-* "
 
 xlii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 to his increasing his duties by reading prayers on 
 Wednesdays and Fridays at Laracor, and daily at St. 
 Patrick's, to his administering the Sacrament every 
 week, and paying great attention to his choir, and to 
 all other matters connected with his deanery. In 
 these respects he appears to have been wholly beyond 
 reproach, and Hawkesworthhas described the solemnity 
 of his manner in the pulpit and the reading-desk, and 
 in the grace which he pronounced at meals. But 
 much more significant than these things are the many 
 instances of concealed religion that were discovered 
 by his friends. Delany had been weeks in his house 
 before he found out that he had family prayers every 
 morning with his servants. In London he rose early to 
 attend public worship at an hour when he might escape 
 the notice of his friends. Though he was never a rich 
 man, he systematically allotted a third of his income 
 to the poor, and he continued his unostentatious 
 charity when extreme misanthropy and growing avar- 
 ice must have rendered it peculiarly trying. He was 
 observed in his later years, when his mind had given 
 way, and when it was found necessary to watch him, 
 pursuing his private devotions with undeviating regu- 
 larity, and some of his letters, written under circum- 
 stances of agonizing sorrow, contain religious expres- 
 sions of the most touching character. Many things 
 which he wrote could not have been written by a 
 reverent or deeply pious man, but his " Proposal for 
 the Advancement of Religion," his admirable letter to 
 a young clergyman on the qualities that are requisite 
 in his profession, the singularly beautiful prayers which 
 he wrote for the use of Stella when she was dying, are 
 all worthy of a high place in religious literature. His
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xliii 
 
 sermons, as he said himself, were too like pamphlets, 
 but they are full of good sense and sound piety admir- 
 ably and decorously expressed. Of the most political 
 of them — that "On Doing Good" — Burke has said 
 that it " contains perhaps the best motives to patriotism 
 that were ever delivered within so small a compass." 
 
 It must be added that the coarseness for which 
 Swift has been so often and so justly censured is not 
 the coarseness of vice. He accumulates images of a 
 kind that most men would have regarded as loathsome, 
 but there is nothing sensual in his writings ; he never 
 awakens an impure curiosity, or invests guilt with a 
 meretricious charm. Vice certainly never appears 
 attractive in his pages, and it may be safely affirmed that 
 no one has ever been allured to vicious courses by 
 reading them. He is often very repulsive and very 
 indecent, but his faults in this respect are rather those 
 of taste than of morals. 
 
 It was not till the year 171 3 that Swift's friends 
 succeeded in obtaining for him the deanery of St. 
 Patrick's. The appointment was regarded both by 
 him and by them as being far below what he might 
 have expected, for its pecuniary value was not great, 
 and it implied separation from all his friends and 
 residence in a country which was then considered a 
 most unenviable abode for a man of genius. He 
 immediately went over to Ireland in June, intending 
 to remain there for some time, but was in a few days 
 recalled by his political friends. He did not at first 
 yield to the request, but it was again and again 
 repeated, and in September he arrived in London. An 
 open breach had broken out between the ministers, 
 and the government seemed on the verge of dissolution.
 
 xliv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 It would be difficult, indeed, to conceive two men 
 less capable of co-operating with cordiality than Harley 
 and St. John, or, to give them the titles they had by 
 this time acquired, than Oxford and Bolingbroke. 
 
 It is not necessary here to examine in detail the 
 many causes of the division. Bolingbroke occupied a 
 position subordinate to Oxford in the ministry ; he 
 had been only created a viscount when Oxford was 
 created an earl. His ambition had been perpetually 
 trammelled by Oxford's procrastination, and his con- 
 sciousness of superior genius irritated by Oxford's 
 haughtiness, and his dislike to his colleague at length 
 deepened into hatred. It is no slight proof of Swift's 
 force of character that he could influence two such 
 men, or of the charm of his society that he could retain 
 the affection of both. Personally, he seems to have 
 been especially attached to Oxford ; while politically 
 he now agreed with Bolingbroke that a more energetic 
 line of policy was the only means by which the Tory 
 party could be saved. 
 
 In truth, the position of the government became 
 every week more desperate. The storm of popular 
 indignation, which had been lulled for a time by " The 
 Conduct of the Allies," broke out afresh with tenfold 
 vicour on the conclusion of the Peace of Utrecht. The 
 long duration of the war, the numerous powers engaged 
 in it, and the many complications that had arisen in 
 its progress, rendered the task of the ministers so 
 peculiarly difficult, that it would have been easy to 
 have attacked any peace framed under such circum- 
 stances, however consummate the wisdom with which 
 its provisions had been framed. The Peace of Utrecht 
 left England incontestably the first power of Europe,
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xlv 
 
 arrested an expenditure which had been adding rapidly 
 to the national debt, and began one of the most 
 prosperous periods of English history. But, on the 
 other hand, it was undoubtedly negotiated more 
 through party than through national motives ; it 
 terminated a long series of splendid victories, and, 
 while it saved France from almost complete destruction, 
 it failed to obtain the object for which the war had 
 been begun. The crown of Spain remained upon 
 the head of Philip, and the Catalans, who had 
 risen to arms relying upon English support, were left 
 without any protection for their local liberties. Any 
 peace which terminated a war of such continual and 
 brilliant success would have been unpopular, and, 
 although the Peace of Utrecht was certainly advan- 
 tageous to the country, some of the objections to it 
 were real and serious, while its free trade clauses raised 
 a fierce storm of ignorant or selfish anger among the 
 mercantile classes. Besides this, the Church enthusiasm 
 which, after the persecution of Sacheverell, had borne 
 the Tories to power, had begun to subside. The 
 question of dynasty was still uncertain. The queen's 
 health was visibly and rapidly breaking. The Elector 
 of Hanover was openly hostile to the Tory party. The 
 leading Tory ministers were justly suspected of intrigu- 
 ing with the Pretender. They were both, though on 
 different grounds and with different classes, unpopular, 
 and they were profoundly disunited at the very time 
 when their union was most necessary. 
 
 Swift on his arrival from Ireland succeeded with 
 some difficulty in bringing Oxford and Bolingbroke 
 together, and he published two political pamphlets 
 bitterly attacking Steele and Burnet and the Whig
 
 xlvi BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 party. Party feeling on both sides now ran furiously. 
 Steele was expelled from the House of Commons, 
 ostensibly on the ground of his pamphlet called " The 
 Crisis," while the House of Lords, in which the Whig 
 party predominated, retaliated by offering a reward for 
 the discovery of the author of Swift's " Public Spirit of 
 the Whigs," on the ground of some reflections it had 
 made on the Scotch. No real reconciliation had been 
 established between Oxford and Bolingbroke, and no 
 real steps were taken to arrest a catastrophe which 
 was manifestly impending. "I never," wrote Swift, 
 " led a life so thoroughly uneasy as I do at present. 
 Our situation is so bad that our enemies could not 
 without abundance of invention and ability have 
 placed us so ill if we had left it entirely to their 
 
 management The queen is pretty well at 
 
 present, but the least disorder she has puts us all in 
 alarm, and when it is over we act as if she were 
 immortal. Neither is it possible to persuade people to 
 make any preparation against the evil day." 
 
 Swift did not know all that took place, for he 
 appears to have had no knowledge of the overtures of 
 the ministers to the Pretender. He was disgusted and 
 hopeless at the state of affairs, and in May, 17 14, he 
 retired to the home of a friend in a quiet Berkshire 
 parsonage. He wrote, however, at this time a remark- 
 able pamphlet, in which he expressed with great force 
 and sincerity his view of the situation. Though his 
 personal sympathies were usually on the side of Oxford, 
 he strongly blamed the indecision and procrastination 
 of that statesman, and strenuously maintained that 
 only the most drastic measures could save the party 
 from ruin. The immense majority, he maintained, of
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xlvii 
 
 the English nation had two wishes. The first was 
 "that the Church of England should be preserved 
 entire in all her rights, powers, and privileges ; all 
 doctrines relating to government discouraged which 
 she condemned ; all schisms, sects, and heresies dis- 
 countenanced." The second was the maintenance of 
 the Protestant succession in the House of Brunswick, 
 " not from any partiality to that illustrious House, 
 further than as it had the honour to mingle with the 
 blood royal of England and is the nearest branch of 
 our royal line reformed from Popery." Real Jacobitism 
 he maintained was very rare in England except among 
 the nonjurors, and the great bulk of the clergy and other 
 adherents of the doctrine of passive obedience were 
 perfectly ready to support the line which they found 
 established by law without entering into any inquiries 
 about the legitimacy of the Revolution, provided that 
 this line supported the Church to which they were 
 attached. 1 But the evil of the situation was that the 
 German heir to the throne had failed to give any such 
 assurance to the nation ; that he had, on the contrary, 
 given all his confidence to the implacable enemies of 
 the Church to which the overwhelming majority of the 
 
 1 Swift explained his own view of this question very clearly in 
 1 72 1 in a letter to his friend, Mr. Knightly Chetwode, who had 
 some Jacobite sympathies. " I do not see any law of God or 
 man forbidding us to give security to the powers that be, and 
 private men are not to trouble themselves about titles to crowns, 
 whatever may be their particular opinions. The abjuration is 
 understood as the law stands, and as the law stands none has 
 title to the crown but the present possessor. . . . The word 
 lawful means according to present law in force, and let the law 
 change ever so often, I am to act according to law, provided it 
 neither offends faith or morality."
 
 xlviii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 nation were attached — to Whigs, Low Churchmen, 
 and Dissenters. The only apparent remedy, Swift 
 maintained, was to exclude all such persons absolutely 
 from all civil and military offices ; to place the whole 
 government of the country in all its departments in 
 the hands of the Tory party, so that it would be im- 
 possible to displace them. The Whigs must be abso- 
 lutely excluded, because they had already proved very 
 dangerous to the Constitution in Church and State ; 
 beoause they were highly irritated at the loss of power, 
 but " principally because they have prevailed by mis- 
 representations and other artifices to make the Suc- 
 cessor look upon them as the only persons he can 
 trust, upon which account they cannot be too soon or 
 too much disabled ; neither will England ever be safe 
 from the attempts of this wicked confederacy until 
 their strength and interests shall be so far reduced that 
 for the future it shall not be in the power of the crown t 
 although in conjunction with any rich and factious body 
 of men, to choose an ill majority in the House of 
 Commons." The queen, he added, should at once 
 peremptorily call upon the Elector to declare his 
 approbation of the policy of her ministers and to dis- 
 avow all connection with the Whigs. 1 
 
 At the request of Bolingbroke the publication of this 
 bold pamphlet was delayed, and before it appeared a 
 great change had taken place in the ministry. Boling- 
 broke, by the assistance of Lady Masham, had effected 
 the disgrace of Oxford, and had obtained the chief 
 place. Swift received a letter from Lady Masham 
 (who had always been his warm friend), couched in 
 
 1 " Free Thoughts upon the Present State of Affairs."
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. xlix 
 
 the most affectionate terms, imploring him to continue 
 to uphold the ministry by his counsel and by his pen, 
 and enclosing an order upon the Treasury for ,£1,000 
 for the necessary expenses of induction into his deanery, 
 which Oxford had promised, but, with his usual pro- 
 crastination, had delayed. He received at the same 
 time a letter from Oxford, requesting his presence in 
 the country, where, as the fallen statesman wrote with 
 a touching pathos, he was going " alone." Swift did 
 not hesitate for a moment between the claims of 
 friendship and the allurements of ambition ; he de- 
 termined to accompany Oxford. 
 
 Events were now succeeding each other with start- 
 ling rapidity. Bolingbroke had been only four days 
 prime minister when the Tory party learned with 
 consternation the death of the queen and the conse- 
 quent downfall of their ascendency. A Whig ministry 
 was constituted. Parliament was dissolved ; the in- 
 fluence of the crown was exerted to the utmost in 
 favour of the Whig party, and a great Whig majority 
 was returned, which continued unbroken during two 
 reigns. One of the first measures of the new govern- 
 ment was to institute a series of prosecutions for treason 
 against its predecessors. Bolingbroke fled from 
 England, and was condemned while absent. Ormond 
 was impeached. Oxford was thrown into the Tower, 
 where he remained for nearly two years, but was at last 
 tried and acquitted. Swift retired to Ireland. A few 
 vague rumours prevailed of his having been concerned 
 in Jacobite intrigues, but they never took any con- 
 sistency, or seem to have deserved any attention. 
 " Dean Swift," wrote Arbuthnot, " keeps up his 
 noble spirit, and, though like a man knocked down, 
 
 I d
 
 1 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 you may behold him still with a stern counten- 
 ance, and aiming a blow at his adversaries." The 
 path of ambition, however, was now for ever closed to 
 him ; the misfortunes of his friends, and especially the 
 imprisonment of Oxford, profoundly affected him, and 
 he even wrote to the fallen statesman, asking permission 
 to accompany him to prison. No man was ever a truer 
 friend than Swift, and there are few men in literary 
 biography in whose lives friendship bore a larger part. 
 He was at this time, more than once, openly in- 
 sulted by some Whigs in Dublin, and he had at first 
 serious difficulties with the minor clergy of his deanery. 
 But a far more serious blow was in store for him — 
 a blow that not only destroyed his peace for a season, 
 but left an indelible stigma on his character. It 
 appears to have been in 1708 or 1709 that Swift, 
 during his residence in London, first made the ac- 
 quaintance of a well-to-do widow named Vanhomrigh, 
 who was living with two sons and two daughters in 
 Bury Street. In 17 10 the acquaintance ripened into 
 an intimacy. Swift dined very frequently at her 
 house, played cards there in the evenings, lodged for 
 a short time in the immediate vicinity, and formed a 
 special friendship with the eldest daughter, Hester, 
 the unfortunate Vanessa. Hester Vanhomrigh was 
 at this time less than twenty, and Swift was more 
 than double her age. Though not conspicuously 
 beautiful, she was a bright, intelligent girl, keenly 
 interested both in literature and politics. She wrote 
 letters to Swift as early as 17 10, and at her request 
 he directed her reading, much as he had formerly 
 done that of Stella. He asserts, and there is not the 
 least reason to doubt his sincerity, that the possibility
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. H 
 
 of his pupil falling in love with him had never for a 
 moment flashed across his mind. Swift was very- 
 fond of the society of ladies, and he made many 
 strong and lasting female friendships, but, as he has 
 himself said, and as appears most abundantly, both 
 from his writings and from his life, he was constitu- 
 tionally unsusceptible to passion. He always con- 
 sidered himself prematurely old, and never suspected 
 that he was capable of inspiring feelings which he had 
 himself never felt and never really understood. 
 
 " Cadenus, common forms apart, 
 In every scene had kept his heart. 
 
 He now could praise, esteem, approve, 
 But understood not what was love ; 
 His conduct might have made him styled 
 A father, and the nymph his child. 
 That innocent delight he took 
 To see the Virgin mind her book, 
 Was but a Master's secret joy 
 In school to hear the finest boy." 
 
 His long platonic intercourse with Stella had prob- 
 ably contributed to blind him, and he had forgotten 
 how seldom such intercourse retains its first character, 
 and how closely admiration is allied to passion. It 
 was seldom, indeed, that his commanding features, 
 his eye, which Pope described as " azure as the 
 heavens," and the charm of his manner and his wit 
 failed to exercise a powerful influence on those around 
 him. The spell which had attached to him so many 
 men of genius and so many women of rank, refine- 
 ment, and intelligence, by a tie that neither his coarse- 
 ness nor his violent and arbitrary temper could break
 
 Hi BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 acted with a fearful power on his passionate and en- 
 thusiastic pupil. It was in 17 13, just before his de- 
 parture for Ireland in the last anxious days of the 
 Tory ministry, that Swift first remarked a great 
 change in the demeanour of his pupil. He was struck 
 by her indifference to the studies she had once so 
 keenly followed, and he completely misunderstood 
 the cause. He supposed that she was weary of study 
 and anxious to enter a gayer world, and he gladly 
 assented to her desire, when, to his astonishment, he 
 received from her a frank confession of her love. 
 
 " Vanessa not in years a score, 
 Dreams of a gown of forty-four." 
 
 Up to this time the conduct of Swift can hardly be 
 taxed with any graver fault than imprudence, but it 
 now became profoundly culpable. It is evident that 
 he had been much captivated by Vanessa, and although, 
 as he tells her, he received her confession with " shame, 
 disappointment, grief, surprise," he shrank with a fatal 
 indecision from the plain and honourable course of 
 decisively severing the connection. He was a little 
 flattered as well as greatly surprised at the passion he 
 had evoked, but he imagined that it was a mere 
 transient caprice which would soon pass. One of the 
 most curious results of the revelation was that he wrote 
 a long poem describing with evident truthfulness the 
 whole story. It was never intended to see the light, 
 and was sent to Vanessa for herself alone, perhaps 
 with the object of showing her how little her passion 
 was reciprocated. Some lines in it have given rise to 
 unpleasant conjecture, which can never be decisively 
 solved, but it must be remembered that these lines
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. liii 
 
 were written for Vanessa alone, and it must also be 
 remembered that they were ultimately given to the 
 world by her desire. 
 
 Changes in the Vanhomrigh family complicated the 
 situation. One brother had died, the other was alien- 
 ated from his sisters, and the mother died in 17 14. 
 There were some temporary money difficulties arising 
 from debts left by Mrs. Vanhomrigh, and Vanessa con- 
 sulted Swift, who gave advice and offered to stand se- 
 curity for a loan. More embarrassing still was the fact 
 that Vanessa had inherited a small property in Ireland, 
 and she resolved to go there when Swift returned to 
 his deanery. Swift evidently disliked the idea. " If 
 you are in Ireland," he wrote in 1714, "when I am 
 there I shall see you very seldom. It is not a place 
 for any freedom." " I say all this out of the perfect 
 esteem and friendship I have for you." 
 
 Vanessa, however, persisted in her intention. Her 
 letters reveal her violent passion, and they also show 
 that while Swift abstained from putting an end to the 
 intimacy he was trying to discourage it. " You once 
 had a maxim," she wrote to him in this year, " which 
 was to act what was right and not mind what the world 
 would say. I wish you would keep to it now. Pray 
 what can be wrong in seeing and advising an unhappy 
 woman? I cannot imagine. You cannot but know 
 that your frowns make my life insupportable. You 
 have taught me to distinguish, and then you leave me 
 miserable." " I am sure I could have bore the rack 
 much better than those killing, killing words of yours. 
 Sometimes I have resolved to die without seeing you 
 more, but these resolves, to your misfortune, did not 
 last long. . . . See me and speak kindly to me, for I
 
 liv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 am sure you would not condemn anyone to suffer 
 what I have done could you but know it. . . . When 
 I begin to complain then you are angry, and there is 
 something in your looks so awful, that it strikes me 
 dumb." 
 
 During all this time the intimate friendship — for it 
 was at this time evidently nothing more — between 
 Swift and Stella continued. There is no real evidence 
 that she resented her position — to which she had been 
 habituated from childhood — and while Swift lived in 
 Dublin she lived with Mrs. Dingley in a separate 
 house, except occasionally during illnesses of Swift. 
 They appear rarely or never to have seen each other 
 alone ; every precaution was taken to avoid scandal, 
 nor does any scandal appear to have been in fact 
 aroused, but Stella presided at the table of Swift when 
 he received company. She was the recognized centre 
 of his circle, and their relations were acknowledged 
 to be of the most perfect confidence and affection. 
 His annual poems to her on her birthday began in 
 1 7 19, but they always strike the chord of friendship 
 and never that of love. 
 
 "Thou, Stella, wast no longer young 
 When first for thee my harp I strung. 
 Without one word of Cupid's darts, 
 Of killing eyes and bleeding hearts, 
 With friendship and esteem, possessed, 
 I ne'er admitted Love a guest." 
 
 It is curious, indeed, to observe how constantly he 
 decries her personal beauty, and directs all his com- 
 pliments to her other qualities. 
 
 " But, Stella, say what evil tongue 
 Reports that you're no longer young ;
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lv 
 
 That Time sits with his scythe to mow 
 Where erst sat Cupid with his bow ; 
 That half your locks are turned to grey. 
 I'll ne'er believe a word they say ! 
 'Tis true — but let it not be known — 
 My eyes are somewhat dimmish grown ; 
 For Nature, aiways in the right, 
 To your defects adapts my sight ; 
 And wrinkles undistinguished pass, 
 For I'm ashamed to use a glass ; 
 And till I see them with these eyes, 
 Whoever says you have them, lies. 
 No length of time can make you quit 
 Honour, virtue, sense and wit ; 
 Thus you may still be young to me, 
 While I can better hear than see. 
 Oh, ne'er may Fortune show her spite 
 To make me deaf and mend my sight ! " 
 
 Stella's temperament, indeed, was singularly serene, 
 patient, and unimpassioned, admirably suited both for 
 social life and for sustained friendship, but as far as 
 we can judge too cold for real love ; she appears to 
 have always lived more from the head than from the 
 heart, and to have acquiesced very placidly during 
 her whole life in a kind of connection which few 
 women could have tolerated. There is some reason, 
 however — though it is not very clear or certain — to 
 believe that the Vanessa episode had come to her 
 knowledge and had troubled her serenity ; and there 
 is considerable, though not absolutely decisive, evid- 
 ence that she was secretly married to Swift in 1716. 
 If so, the marriage was concealed, and their mode of 
 life continued as before, but Stella obtained a 
 guarantee that at least no other woman should take 
 her place.
 
 lvi BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The mystery of the story can never be fully un- 
 ravelled. Swift's extreme dislike of marriage appears 
 continually in his writings. It is probable, as Scott 
 conjectured, that a physical cause contributed to it, 
 and the continually recurring fits of dizziness, with 
 indications of brain disease, of which he was painfully 
 sensible, may have also strengthened it. The passion 
 of Vanessa, however, continued unabated, and some 
 of her letters, written in 1720, show that it had risen 
 almost to the point of madness, and that she believed 
 that Swift was more and more turning away from her. 
 " It is now ten long weeks since I saw you, and in all 
 that time I have never received but one letter from 
 you and a little note of excuse. Oh! have you 
 forgot me? ... I cannot comfort you, but here 
 declare that it is not in the power of art, time, or 
 accident to lessen the inexpressible passion which I 
 
 have for . . . Nor is the love I bear you only 
 
 seated in my soul ; for there is not a single atom of 
 my frame that is not blended with it. Therefore do 
 not flatter yourself that separation will ever change 
 my sentiments. . . . For Heaven's sake tell me what 
 has caused this prodigious change in ycu, which I 
 have found of late." " I was born with violent passions 
 which terminate all in one, that inexpressible passion 
 I have for you. Consider the killing emotions which 
 I feel from your neglect of me, and show some tender- 
 ness for me, or I shall lose my senses. ... I firmly 
 believe if I could know your thoughts (which no 
 human creature is capable of guessing at, because 
 never any one living thought like you), I should find 
 you had often in a rage wished me religious, hoping 
 that I should have paid my devotions to Heaven ;
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lvii 
 
 but that would not spare you, for were I an enthusiast 
 still you would be the deity I should worship. . . . 
 Your dear image is always before my eyes. Some- 
 times you strike me with that prodigious awe I 
 tremble with fear — at others a divine compassion 
 shines through your countenance." 
 
 Such a strain could have but one meaning. The 
 fragmentary correspondence which was published by 
 Hawkesworth, and more fully by Scott, only throws a 
 casual light on this melancholy story. It is easy to 
 see that Swift was perplexed, anxious, and irresolute. 
 He pays Vanessa compliments on her letters and her 
 conversation ; assures her of his unabated esteem and 
 love ; of his " respect and kindness ; " promises to visit 
 her, but says that it must be seldom, lest uncivil 
 tongues should speak about them. He implores her 
 not to yield to unhappy imaginations, to ride, to 
 see company, to read cheerful books ; above all, to 
 be on her guard against "the spleen" getting the 
 better of her, "than which there is no more foolish 
 and troublesome disease," and he would gladly see her 
 return to England. " Settle your affairs," he writes in 
 1721, "and quit this scoundrel island, and things will 
 be as you desire." He tells her that she has no real 
 reason for her melancholy, " if all the advantages of 
 life can be any defence against it." He tries by a 
 somewhat cynical, but not unkindly banter to bring 
 her down to more prosaic levels. " Remember that 
 riches are nine parts in ten of all that is good in life, 
 and health is the tenth ; drinking coffee comes long 
 after, and yet it is the eleventh ; but without the two 
 former you cannot drink it right." " The worst thing 
 in you and me is that we are too hard to please ; and
 
 Iviii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 whether we have not made ourselves so is the question. 
 . . . One thing that I differ from you in is that I do 
 not quarrel with my best friends. . . . We differ 
 prodigiously in one point. I fly from the spleen to 
 the world's end ; you run out of your way to meet 
 it. ... I wish you would get yourself a horse, and 
 have always two servants to attend you, and visit 
 your neighbours — the worse the better : there is a 
 pleasure in being reverenced, and that is always in 
 your power by your superiority of sense and an easy 
 fortune. ... I long to see you in figure and equi- 
 page. Pray do not lose that taste." " The best 
 maxim I know in this life is to drink your coffee when 
 you can, and when you cannot to be easy without it. 
 While you continue to be splenetick count upon it I 
 will always preach. . . . Without health and good 
 humour I had rather be a dog." " What a foolish 
 thing is time, and how foolish is man, who would be as 
 angry if time stopped as if it passed. . . . But I am 
 thinking myself fast into the spleen, which is the only 
 thing I would not compliment you by imitating." 
 
 But such language was of no avail, and the. sequel, 
 as it is told by Sheridan, is well known. Vanessa in 
 the spring of 1723 wrote to Stella asking whether 
 she was indeed the wife of Swift, and Stella placed 
 the letter in the hands of the dean. In a paroxysm 
 of rage he rode to Celbridge, where Vanessa was 
 then living, entered her room, and darting at her a 
 look of concentrated anger, flung down the letter at 
 her feet, and departed without uttering a word. She 
 saw at once that her fate was sealed. She languished 
 away, and in a few weeks died. Before her death she 
 revoked the will she had made in favour of Swift, and
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lix 
 
 ordered the publication of " Cadenus and Vanessa," 
 the poem in which he had immortalized her love. 
 Swift fled to the country, and remained for two 
 months buried in absolute seclusion. 
 
 There can be little doubt that this tragedy added 
 greatly to the constitutional gloom which was fast 
 settling on Swift. Ireland was never a congenial 
 country to him. Though he lived there so much 
 both in youth and in old age, he always described his 
 life there as an exile. He never called himself an 
 Irishman ; he declared that he had been born, or, as 
 he elsewhere expressed it, "dropped" in Ireland by 
 " a perfect accident," and thus, as he said, " I am a 
 Teague or an Irishman, or what people please." In 
 Ireland, however, as elsewhere, he made some warm 
 and intimate friends. The chief appears to have 
 been Dr. Delany, an accomplished and amiable 
 Fellow of Trinity College, the husband of a very charm- 
 ing English lady, whose correspondence furnishes 
 some of the best pictures of Irish life in the first half 
 of the eighteenth century, and also some passing 
 glimpses of Swift both in the days when he was an 
 honoured and popular centre of Dublin society, and 
 also in the last sad years of old age and decrepitude. 
 Delany himself has left an account of Swift's Irish 
 life which is undoubtedly authentic, and which 
 brings into clear relief sides of the character of Swift 
 which those who judged him only by his writings 
 would scarcely have suspected. Another very close 
 friend was Thomas Sheridan, who was for some years 
 probably the most successful schoolmaster in Ireland. 
 He was the father of the biographer of Swift — the 
 grandfather of Richard Brinsley Sheridan — the head
 
 lx BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 of a family which has continued for more than a cen- 
 tury prolific in genius beyond almost any in English 
 history. He was in some respects a perfect type of 
 certain sides of the Irish character ; recklessly im- 
 provident, with boundless good-nature and the most 
 boisterous spirits ; full of wit and fire, and with a rare 
 talent for versification. He ruined his prospects of 
 promotion by preaching from pure forgetfulness from 
 the text, " Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," 
 on the anniversary of the accession of the House of 
 Hanover ; and through most of his life he greatly 
 mismanaged his interests and talents. He carried on 
 a continual warfare with Swift in the shape of puns, 
 charades, satirical poems, and practical jokes ; and 
 there is something very winning in the boyish and 
 careless delight with which Swift threw himself into 
 these contests. We owe to them many of his best 
 comic poems, and many of the most amusing anecdotes 
 of his life. Swift was sincerely attached to him. A 
 room at the deanery was specially reserved for him ; 
 he spent many of his holidays there, and on more 
 than one occasion Swift used all his influence to help 
 him in his career. 
 
 It was not to be expected, however, that Swift 
 could withdraw his attention from political affairs, and 
 he soon entered upon that political career which has 
 given him his place in the history of Ireland. 
 
 It would be difficult, indeed, to conceive a more 
 deplorable and humiliating condition than that of 
 Ireland in the first quarter of the eighteenth century. 
 The Battle of the Boyne and the events that followed 
 it had completely prostrated the Irish Roman Catholics. 
 Nearly all the men of energy and talent among them
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxi 
 
 had emigrated to foreign lands, while penal laws of 
 atrocious severity crushed the Catholics who remained. 
 The Protestants, on the other hand, were regarded as 
 an English colony ; any feeling of independence that 
 appeared among them was sedulously repressed, and 
 their interests were habitually sacrificed to those of 
 England. The Irish Parliament was little more than 
 a court for registering English decrees, for it had no 
 power of passing, or even discussing, any Bill which 
 had not been previously approved and certified under 
 the Great Seal of England. Irishmen were systemati- 
 cally excluded from the most lucrative places. The 
 viceroys were usually absent for three-fourths of their 
 terms of office. About a third of the rents of the 
 country was expended in England, and an abject 
 poverty prevailed. 
 
 This poverty was largely due to a commercial legis- 
 lation which was deliberately intended to crush the 
 chief sources of Irish wealth. Until the reign of 
 Charles II. the Irish shared the commercial privi- 
 leges of the English ; but as the island had not been 
 really conquered till the reign of Elizabeth, and as its 
 people were till then scarcely removed from barbarism, 
 the progress was necessarily slow. In the early Stuart 
 reigns, however, comparative repose and good govern- 
 ment were followed by a sudden rush of prosperity. 
 The land was chiefly pasture, for which it was admir- 
 ably adapted ; the export of live cattle to England was 
 carried on upon a large scale, and it became a chief 
 source of Irish wealth. The English landowners, 
 however, took the alarm. They complained that Irish 
 rivalry in the cattle market was reducing English 
 rents ; and accordingly, by an Act which was first
 
 lxii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 passed in 1663, and was made perpetual in 1666, the 
 importation of cattle to England was forbidden. 
 
 The effect of a measure of this kind, levelled at the 
 principal article of the commerce of the nation, was 
 necessarily most disastrous. The profound modifica- 
 tion which it introduced into the course of Irish 
 industry is sufficiently shown by the estimate of Sir 
 W. Petty, who declares that before this statute three- 
 fourths of the trade of Ireland was with England, but 
 not one-fourth of it since that time. In the very year 
 when this Bill was passed another measure was taken 
 not less fatal to the interests of the country. In the 
 first Navigation Act, Ireland was placed on the same 
 terms as England ; but in the Act as amended in 
 1663 she was omitted, and was thus deprived of the 
 whole colonial trade. With the exception of a very 
 few specified articles, no European merchandise could 
 be imported into the British colonies except directly 
 from England, in ships built in England, and manned 
 chiefly by English sailors. No articles, with a few 
 exceptions, could be brought from the colonies to 
 Europe without being first unladen in England. In 
 1670 this exclusion of Ireland was confirmed, and in 
 1696 it was rendered more stringent, for it was enacted 
 that no goods of any sort could be imported directly 
 from the colonies to Ireland. It will be remembered 
 that at this time the chief British colonies were those 
 of America, and that Ireland, by her geographical 
 position, was naturally of all countries most fitted for 
 the American trade. 
 
 As far, then, as the colonial trade was concerned, 
 Ireland at this time gained nothing whatever by her 
 connection with England. To other countries, how-
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxiil 
 
 ever, her ports were still open, and in time of peace 
 her foreign commerce was unrestricted. When for- 
 bidden to export their cattle to England, the Irish 
 turned their land chiefly into sheep-walks, and pro- 
 ceeded energetically to manufacture the wool. Some 
 faint traces of this manufacture may be detected from 
 an early period, and Lord Strafford, when governing 
 Ireland, had mentioned it with a characteristic com- 
 ment. Speaking of the Irish he says, "There was little 
 or no manufactures amongst them, but some small 
 beginnings towards a clothing trade, which I had, and 
 so should still discourage all I could, unless otherwise 
 directed by his Majesty and their Lordships. ... It 
 might be feared they would beat us out of the trade 
 itself by underselling us, which they were well able to 
 do." With the exception, however, of an abortive 
 effort by this governor, the Irish wool manufacture 
 was in no degree impeded, and was indeed mentioned 
 with special favour in some Acts of Parliament ; and 
 it was in a great degree on the faith of this long-con- 
 tinued legislative sanction that it so greatly expanded. 
 The poverty of Ireland, the low state of the civilization 
 of a large proportion of its inhabitants, the effects of the 
 civil wars which had so recently convulsed it, and the 
 exclusion of its products from the English colonies, 
 were doubtless great obstacles to manufacturing enter- 
 prise ; but, on the other hand, Irish wool was very 
 good, living was cheaper and taxes were lighter than 
 in England, a spirit of real industrial energy began to 
 pervade the country, and a considerable number of 
 English manufacturers came over to colonize it. 
 There appeared for a time every probability that the 
 Irish would become an industrial nation, and had
 
 lxiv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 manufactures arisen, their whole social, political, 
 and economical condition would have been changed. 
 But commercial jealousy again interposed. By an 
 Act of crushing and unprecedented severity, which 
 was carried in 1699, the export of the Irish woollen 
 manufactures, not only to England, but also to all 
 other countries, was absolutely forbidden. 
 
 The effects of this measure were terrible almost 
 beyond conception. The main industry of the country 
 was at a blow completely and irretrievably annihilated. 
 A vast population was thrown into a condition of 
 utter destitution. Thousands of manufacturers left the 
 country, and carried their skill and enterprise to 
 Germany, France, and Spain. The western and 
 southern districts of Ireland are said to have been 
 nearly depopulated. Emigration to America began 
 on a large scale, and the blow was so severe that long 
 after, a kind of chronic famine prevailed. In 1707 the 
 Irish government was unable to pay its military 
 establishments, and the national resources were so 
 small that a debt of less than ;£ 100,000 caused the 
 gravest anxiety. Fortunately for the country, it was 
 found impossible to guard the ports, and a vast 
 smuggling export of wool to France was carried on, in 
 which all classes participated, and which somewhat 
 alleviated the distress, but contributed powerfully, with 
 other influences, to educate the people in a contempt 
 for law. Industrial enterprise and confidence were 
 utterly destroyed. By a simple act of authority the 
 English Parliament had suppressed the chief form of 
 Irish commerce, solely and avowedly because it had so 
 succeeded as to appear a formidable competitor ; and 
 there was no reason why a similar step should not be
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxv 
 
 taken whenever any other Irish manufacture began to 
 flourish. It is true that some small encouragement 
 was given to the linen manufacture, but that manufac- 
 ture was then very insignificant, and the encouragement 
 was utterly precarious. " I am sorry to find," wrote an 
 author in 1729, "so universal a despondency amongst 
 us in respect to trade. Men of all degrees give up the 
 thought of improving our commerce, and conclude 
 that the restrictions under which we are laid are so 
 insurmountable that any attempt on that head would 
 be vain and fruitless." ' Molyneux was impelled, 
 chiefly by these restrictions, to raise the banner of 
 Irish legislative independence. " Ireland," wrote 
 Swift, "is the only kingdom I ever heard or read of, 
 either in ancient or modern story, which was denied 
 the liberty of exporting their native commodities and 
 manufactures wherever they pleased, except to coun- 
 tries at war with their own prince or state. Yet this 
 privilege, by the superiority of mere power, is refused 
 us in the most momentous parts of commerce ; besides 
 an Act of Navigation, to which we never assented, 
 pressed down upon us, and rigorously executed." 
 ' The conveniency of ports and harbours which nature 
 bestowed so liberally on this kingdom is of no more 
 use than a beautiful prospect to a man shut up in a 
 dungeon." 
 
 The spirit in which Irish affairs were administered 
 can hardly be better illustrated than by the letters of 
 Archbishop Boulter, who occupied the see of Armagh 
 from 1724 to 1738, and exercised during all that time 
 a dominating influence. Boulter was an honest but 
 
 1 An essay on the trade of Ireland by the author of 
 " Seasonable Remarks." (1729.) 
 I. e
 
 lxvi BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 narrow man, charitable to the poor, and liberal to the 
 extent of warmly advocating the endowment of the 
 Presbyterian clergy ; but he was a strenuous supporter 
 of the penal code, and the main object of his policy 
 was to prevent the rise of an Irish party. His letters 
 are chiefly on questions of money and patronage, and 
 it is curious to observe how entirely all religious 
 motives appear to have been absent from his mind in 
 his innumerable recommendations for Church dignities. 
 Personal claims, and above all the fitness of the 
 candidate to carry out the English policy, were in 
 these cases the only elements considered. His uniform 
 policy was to divide the Irish Catholics and the Irish 
 Protestants, to crush the former by disabling laws, to 
 destroy the independence of the latter by conferring 
 the most lucrative and influential posts upon English- 
 men, and thus to make all Irish interests strictly 
 subservient to those of England. The continual 
 burden of his letters is the necessity of sending over 
 Englishmen to fill all important Irish posts. "The 
 only way to keep things quiet here," he writes, " and 
 make them easy to the ministry, is by filling the great 
 places with natives of England." He complains 
 bitterly that only nine of the twenty-two Irish bishops 
 were Englishmen, and urges the ministers " gradually 
 to get as many English on the bench here as can 
 decently be sent hither." On the death of the 
 Chancellor, writing to the Duke of Newcastle, he speaks 
 of " the uneasiness we are under at the report that a 
 native of this place is like to be made Lord Chancellor." 
 " I must request of your grace," he adds, " that you 
 would use your influence to have none but Englishmen 
 put into the great places here for the future." When
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Ixvii 
 
 a vacancy in the see of Dublin was likely to occur, he 
 writes : " I am entirely of opinion that the new 
 archbishop ought to be an Englishman either already 
 on the bench here, or in England. As for a native of 
 this country, I can hardly doubt that, whatever his ' 
 behaviour has been and his promises may be, when he 
 is once in that station he will put himself at the head 
 of the Irish interest in the Church at least, and he will 
 naturally carry with him the college and most of the 
 clergy here." 
 
 It is not surprising that a policy of this kind should 
 have been resented by the Irish Protestants, and many 
 traces of their dissatisfaction may be found in the 
 letters of Primate Boulter. The Protestants, however, 
 were too few, too divided, and too dependent upon 
 English support to be really formidable, and measures 
 of the grossest tyranny were carried without resistance, 
 and almost without protest. 
 
 There had been, however, one remarkable exception. 
 In 1698, when the measure for destroying the Irish 
 wool trade was under deliberation, Molyneux — one of 
 the members of Trinity College, an eminent man of 
 science, and the " ingenious friend " mentioned by 
 Locke in his essay — had published his famous " Case 
 of Ireland," in which he asserted the full and sole 
 competence of the Irish Parliament to legislate for 
 Ireland. He maintained that the Parliament of Ireland 
 had naturally and anciently all the prerogatives in 
 Ireland which the English Parliament possessed in 
 England, and that the subservience to which it had 
 been reduced was merely due to acts of usurpation. 
 His arguments were chiefly historical, and were those 
 which were afterwards maintained by Flood and
 
 lxvlii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Grattan, and which eventually triumphed in 1782. 
 The position and ability of the writer, and the ex- 
 treme malevolence with which, in commercial matters, 
 English authority was at this time employed, attracted 
 to the work a large measure of attention, and it was 
 written in the most moderate, decorous, and respectful 
 language. The government, however, took the alarm ; 
 the book was speedily brought before the English 
 House of Commons and formally condemned. 
 
 Such was the condition of Irish politics and Irish 
 opinion when Swift came over to his deanery. It is not 
 difficult to understand how intolerable it must have 
 been to a man of his character and antecedents. 
 Accustomed during several years to exercise a 
 commanding influence upon the policy of the empire, 
 endowed beyond all living men with that kind of 
 literary talent which is most fitted to arouse and direct 
 a great popular movement, and at the same time 
 embittered by disappointment and defeat, it would 
 have been strange if he had remained a passive 
 spectator of the scandalous and yet petty tyranny 
 about him. He had every personal and party motive 
 to stimulate him ; he was capable of a very real 
 patriotism, and a burning hatred of injustice and 
 oppression was the form which his virtue most 
 naturally assumed. 
 
 To this hatred, however, there was one melancholy 
 exception. He was always an ecclesiastic and a High 
 Churchman, imbued with the intolerance of his order. 
 For the Catholics, as such, he did simply nothing. 
 Neither in England when he was guiding the ministry, 
 nor in Ireland when he was leading the nation, did he 
 make any effort to prevent the infraction of the Treaty
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxix 
 
 of Limerick. One of his arguments in defence of the 
 Test Act, which excluded the Dissenters from office, 
 was, that if it were repealed, even the Catholics, by 
 parity of reasoning, might claim to be enfranchised. 
 The very existence of the Catholic worship in Ireland 
 he hoped would some day be destroyed by law. His 
 language on this subject is explicit and emphatic. 
 "The Popish priests are all registered, and without 
 permission (which I hope will not be granted) they 
 can have no successors, so that the Protestant clergy 
 will find it perhaps no difficult matter to bring great 
 numbers over to the Church." 
 
 He first turned his attention to the state of Irish 
 manufactures. He published anonymously, in 1720, 
 an admirable pamphlet on the subject, in which he 
 urged the people to meet the restrictions which had 
 been imposed on their trade by abstaining from im- 
 portation, using exclusively Irish products, and burn- 
 ing everything that came from England — " except the 
 coal." He described the recent English policy in an 
 ingenious passage under the guise of the fable of 
 " Pallas and Arachne." " The goddess had heard of 
 one Arachne, a young virgin very famous for spinning 
 and weaving. They both met upon a trial of skill ; 
 and Pallas, finding herself almost equalled in her own 
 art, stung with r^ge and envy, knocked her rival down, 
 turned her into a spider, enjoining her to spin and 
 weave for ever out of her own bowels, and in a very 
 narrow compass." He concluded with an earnest 
 appeal to the landlords to lighten the rents, which 
 were crushing so many of their tenants, and with a 
 powerful but probably not exaggerated picture of the 
 " poverty and desolation that prevailed," " Whoever,"
 
 lxx BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 he said, " travels in this country and observes the face 
 of nature or the faces and habits and dwellings of the 
 natives, will hardly think himself in a land where either 
 law, religion, or common humanity is professed." The 
 pamphlet attracted great attention, but was imme- 
 diately prosecuted, and Chief Justice Whiteshed dis- 
 played gross partisanship in endeavouring to intimidate 
 the jury into giving a verdict against it, but the printer 
 ultimately remained unpunished, and a shower of 
 lampoons assailed the judge. 
 
 The next productions of Swift were his famous 
 " Drapier's Letters." Ireland had been for some time 
 suffering from the want of a sufficiently large copper 
 coinage. Walpole determined to remedy this want, 
 but the manner in which this was done was very justly 
 described as a scandalous job. The frequent issue of 
 base coinage in Ireland had been an old grievance, and 
 the English government had been again and again 
 petitioned to establish a mint in Ireland, and to provide 
 that in Ireland as in other civilized countries the coinage 
 should be undertaken by government officials. These 
 petitions, however, had been rejected, and on the present 
 occasion neither the Lord Lieutenant, nor the Irish 
 Privy Council, nor the Irish Parliament were consulted 
 about the step that was taken. The patent for issuing 
 the new coinage was granted to the Duchess of Kendal, 
 the mistress of the king, who sold it for £10,000 to an 
 English iron merchant, named Wood. 
 
 In order to raise the profits it was determined that 
 no less than £108,000 should be coined. According 
 to the best authorities in Ireland, £10,000 or £15,000 
 would amply meet the wants of the country. In 
 England the copper coinage seldom exceeded a
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxxi 
 
 hundredth part of the whole currency, and, serving 
 only for the convenience of change, its intrinsic value 
 was of no importance. In Ireland, the whole current 
 coin was estimated at not more than ^400,000, and it 
 was proposed to coin in copper more than a fourth part 
 of that sum. It was contended in Ireland that a pro- 
 portion which was so utterly extravagant made the 
 question of intrinsic value of supreme importance ; that 
 copper would enter largely into all considerable pay- 
 ments ; that the precious metals would be displaced, 
 and would go for the most part to England in the 
 shape of rent ; that coiners would find it for their ad- 
 vantage to coin a great additional amount of debased 
 copper, and that Ireland being mainly reduced to such 
 a coinage would be placed at a ruinous disadvantage 
 in commerce with other countries. 
 
 The clamour against Wood's halfpence was not 
 originated by Swift. Before he took up his pen the 
 new coinage had been vehemently denounced in the 
 House of Commons, and both of the Irish Houses of 
 Parliament as well as the Irish Privy Council had pre- 
 sented addresses against the project. Their complaints, 
 however, were disregarded, and, in spite of the remon- 
 strances of all the organs of public opinion in Ireland, 
 the government determined to persevere. 
 
 There is no real reason to believe that the new coins 
 were inferior to the very bad copper coinage which 
 already existed in Ireland, though they appear to have 
 been by no means uniform, and though no less than 
 four varieties were struck. That their intrinsic value 
 was greatly below their nominal value was true, but if 
 they had only been coined in a moderate amount, and 
 had only served the purpose of tokens or small change,
 
 lxxii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 this would have signified little or nothing. Taking, 
 however, all the circumstances of the case, there can be 
 no doubt that a real and gross job had been perpetrated, 
 and that the dignity and independence of the country 
 had been grossly outraged. It would, however, have 
 been hopeless to raise an opposition simply on consti- 
 tutional grounds. The Catholics were utterly crushed. 
 A large proportion of the Protestants were far too 
 ignorant to care for any mere constitutional question. 
 Public opinion was faint, dispirited, and divided, and 
 the habit of servitude had passed into all classes. The 
 English party, occupying the most important posts, 
 disposing of nearly all the great emoluments, and 
 controlling the courts of justice, were anxious to 
 suppress every symptom of opposition. The fate of 
 the treatise of Molyneux, and of Swift's own tract on 
 Irish manufactures, was a sufficient warning, and it 
 was plain that the contemplated measure could only 
 be resisted by a strong national enthusiasm. 
 
 A report that the coins were below their nominal 
 value had spread through the country, and was adopted 
 by Parliament and embodied in the resolutions of both 
 Houses. Of this report Swift availed himself. Writ- 
 ing in the character of a tradesman, and adopting with 
 consummate skill a style of popular argument consonant 
 to his assumed character, he commenced a series of 
 letters in which he asserted with the utmost assurance 
 that all who took the new coin would lose nearly 
 elevenpence in a shilling, or, as he afterwards main- 
 tained with a great parade of accuracy, that thirty-six 
 of them would purchase a quart of twopenny ale. He 
 appealed alternately to every section of the community, 
 pointing out how their special interests would be
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Ixxiii 
 
 affected by its introduction, concluding with the 
 beggars, who were assured that the coin selected for 
 adulteration had been halfpence, in order that they too 
 might be ruined. Tampering with the coinage, he 
 justly said, "is the tenderest point of government, 
 affecting every individual in the highest degree. When 
 the value of money is arbitrary or unsettled, no man 
 can well be said to have any property at all ; nor is 
 any wound so suddenly felt, so hardly cured, or that 
 leaveth such deep and lasting scars behind it." A 
 great panic was soon created. The ministry en- 
 deavoured to allay it by reducing the amount to be 
 coined to ^40,000, by a formal examination of some 
 of the later halfpence at the Mint, and by a report 
 attesting their good quality issued by Sir I. Newton ; 
 but the time for such measures had passed. Swift 
 combated the report in an exceedingly ingenious letter, 
 and the distrust of the people was far too deep to be 
 assuaged. 
 
 By this means the needful agitation was produced, 
 and it remained only to turn it into the national 
 channel. This was done by the famous Fourth 
 Letter. Swift began by deploring the general weak- 
 ness and subserviency of the people. " Having," he 
 said, " already written three letters upon so disagree- 
 able a subject as Mr. Wood and his halfpence, I 
 conceived my task was at an end. But I find that 
 cordials must be frequently applied to weak constitu- 
 tions, political as well as natural. A people long used 
 to hardships lose by degrees the very notions of 
 liberty ; they look upon themselves as creatures of 
 mercy, and that all impositions laid on them by a 
 strong hand are, in the phrase of the report, legal and
 
 lxxiv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 obligatory." He defined clearly and boldly the limits 
 of the prerogative of the Crown, maintaining that 
 while the sovereign had an undoubted right to issue 
 coin, he could not compel the people to receive it ; 
 and he proceeded to assert the independence of 
 Ireland, and the essential nullity of those measures 
 which had not received the sanction of the Irish 
 legislature. He avowed his entire adherence to the 
 doctrine of Molyneux ; he declared his allegiance to 
 the king, not as King of England, but as King of 
 Ireland, and he asserted that Ireland was rightfully a 
 free nation, which implied that it had the power of 
 self-legislation ; for " government without the consent 
 of the governed is the very definition of slavery." 
 
 This letter was sustained by other pamphlets and 
 by ballads which were sung through the streets, and it 
 brought the agitation to the highest pitch. All parties 
 combined in resistance to the obnoxious patent and 
 in a determination to support the constitutional doc- 
 trine. The Chancellor Middleton denounced the coin ; 
 the Lords Justices refused to issue an order for its 
 circulation ; both Houses of Parliament were opposed 
 to it ; the grand jury of Dublin and the country 
 gentry at most of the quarter sessions condemned it. 
 " I find," wrote Primate Boulter, " by my own and 
 others' inquiry, that the people of every religion, 
 country, and party here are alike set against Wood's 
 halfpence, and that their agreement in this has had a 
 very unhappy influence on the state of this nation, by 
 bringing on intimacies between Papists and Jacobites 
 and the Whigs." Government was exceedingly 
 alarmed. Walpole had already recalled the Duke of 
 Grafton, whom he described as "a fair-weather pilot,
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxxV 
 
 that did not know how to act when the first storm 
 arose;" but Lord Carteret, who succeeded him as 
 Lord Lieutenant, was equally unable to quell the 
 agitation. A reward of £300 was offered in vain for 
 the discovery of the author of the Fourth Letter. The 
 authorship was notorious, and scarcely concealed by 
 Swift, but no legal evidence was forthcoming. A 
 prosecution was instituted against the printer ; but 
 the grand jury refused to find the bill, and persisted in 
 their refusal, notwithstanding the violent and in- 
 decorous conduct of Chief Justice Whiteshed. The 
 popular feeling grew daily stronger, and at last 
 Walpole thought it prudent to yield, and withdrew the 
 patent. Wood was awarded no less than £3,000 a 
 year for eight years, as compensation for its loss. 
 
 Such were the circumstances of this memorable 
 contest — a contest which has been deservedly placed 
 in the foremost ranks in the annals of Ireland. There 
 is no more momentous epoch in the history of a nation 
 than that in which the voice of the people has first 
 spoken, and spoken with success. It marks the trans- 
 ition from an age of semi-barbarism to an age of 
 civilization — from the government of force to the 
 government of opinion. 
 
 Swift was admirably calculated to be the leader of 
 public opinion in Ireland, from his complete freedom 
 from the characteristic defects of the Irish tempera- 
 ment. His writings exhibit no tendency to rhetoric 
 or bombast, no fallacious images or far-fetched 
 analogies, no tumid phrases in which the expression 
 hangs loosely and inaccurately around the meaning. 
 His style is always clear, keen, nervous, and exact. 
 He delights in the most homely Saxon, in the simplest
 
 lxxvi BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and most unadorned sentences. His arguments are 
 so plain that the weakest mind can grasp them, yet so 
 logical that it is seldom possible to evade their force. 
 Even his fictions exhibit everywhere his antipathy to 
 vagueness and mystery. As Emerson observes, " He 
 describes his characters as if for the police-court." It 
 has been often remarked that his very wit is a species 
 of argument. He starts from one ludicrous concep- 
 tion, such as the existence of minute men, or the 
 suitability of children for food, and he proceeds to 
 examine that conception in every aspect, to follow it 
 out to all its consequences, and to derive from it, 
 systematically and consistently, a train of the most 
 grotesque incidents. He seeks to reduce everything 
 to its most practical form, and to its simplest ex- 
 pression, and sometimes affects not even to understand 
 inflated language. It is curious to observe an Irish- 
 man, when addressing the Irish people, laying hold of 
 a careless expression attributed to Walpole — that he 
 would pour the coin down the throats of the nation — 
 and arguing gravely that the difficulties of such a 
 course would be insuperable. This shrewd, practical, 
 unimpassioned tone was especially needed in Ireland. 
 To employ Swift's own image, it was a medicine 
 well suited to correct the weakness of the national 
 character. 
 
 After the " Drapier's Letters," Swift published 
 several minor pieces on Irish affairs, but most of them 
 are very inconsiderable. The principal are his 
 " Maxims controlled in Ireland," in which he showed 
 how many of the ordinary maxims of English policy 
 are inapplicable to Ireland, and his " Short View of 
 the State of Ireland," published in 1727, in which he
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. Ixxvii 
 
 enumerated fourteen causes of a nation's prosperity, 
 and showed in how many of these Ireland was defi- 
 cient. He brought forward the condition of the 
 country indirectly, in that ghastly piece of sustained 
 irony, his proposal for employing Irish children for 
 food, and also in an admirable allegory, " The Story 
 of an Injured Lady." His influence with the people 
 after the " Drapier's Letters " was unbounded. Wal- 
 pole once spoke of having him arrested, and was 
 asked whether he had ten thousand men to spare, for 
 they would be needed for the enterprise. When 
 Serjeant Bettesworth, an eminent lawyer whom Swift 
 had fiercely satirized, threatened him with personal 
 violence, the people voluntarily formed a guard for his 
 protection. When Primate Boulter accused him of 
 exciting the people, he retorted, with scarcely an 
 exaggeration, " If I were only to lift my finger, you 
 would be torn to pieces." We have a curious proof of 
 the extent of his reputation in a letter written by 
 Voltaire, then a very young man, requesting him to 
 procure subscriptions in Ireland for the " Henriade" — 
 a request with which Swift complied, though he had 
 always refused to publish his own works by subscrip- 
 tion. 
 
 In more than one private letter Swift denies that in 
 his Irish writings he was animated by any special love 
 for Ireland. " What I did for this country," he said, 
 " was from profound hatred of tyranny and oppression. 
 ... I believe the people of Lapland or the Hotten- 
 tots cannot be so miserable a people as we." Nor did 
 he ever seek like a common demagogue to flatter 
 those for whom he wrote by attributing all their 
 calamities to others than themselves. In his analysis
 
 lxxviii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 of the causes of Irish depression he dwelt with un- 
 sparing force upon those which grew out of vices that 
 were purely Irish. He speaks of the excessive rents ; 
 the depopulation of vast districts by the great graziers ; 
 the scandalous absenteeism and neglect of duty of the 
 upper classes, their passion for London silks and 
 calicoes and for every English fashion in preference to 
 native manufacture ; the reckless extravagance that 
 was leading to the ruin of so many country seats and 
 the destruction of so much noble timber in order to meet 
 the expenses of spendthrift owners in London or at 
 Bath. He deplores the absence of any serious effort 
 to raise and civilize a population who in many parts 
 of Ireland were sunk in a squalor, ignorance, poverty, 
 and extreme idleness hardly equalled in Europe, and 
 he gives striking examples of the utter ignorance or 
 utter improvidence displayed in Irish agriculture. 
 Great tracts of land were ruined because it was the 
 practice of Irish farmers to cut turf without any provi- 
 dence or regularity ; to flay off the green surface even 
 of shallow soils in order to cover with it their cabins 
 and make up ditches ; to wear out the ground by 
 excessive ploughing, without taking any proper care to 
 manure it or giving any part of the land time to recover 
 itself; to plough up the meadows and let farms go to 
 utter ruin when the end of a lease was approaching. 
 No pains were taken to enclose lands ; there was so 
 much ignorance or so much carelessness in the 
 management of woods that not one hedge in a 
 hundred came to maturity ; trees were habitually 
 suffered to ruin each other for want of the most ele- 
 mentary trimming, or were cut down long before they 
 had come to their proper size. In no other country in
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxx!x 
 
 Europe, he said, had so much excellent timber been of 
 late cut down in so short a time, and with so little 
 advantage to the country either in shipping or 
 building. 
 
 But although Swift never flattered, no one can mis- 
 take the accent of genuine compassion and genuine 
 indignation in his writings, and his countrymen 
 fully recognized the services he had rendered them. 
 Few things in the Irish history of the last century 
 are more touching than the constancy with which 
 the people clung to their old leader, even at a time 
 when his faculties had wholly decayed ; and, notwith- 
 standing his creed, his profession, and his intolerance, 
 the name of Swift was for many generations the most 
 universally popular in Ireland. He first taught the 
 Irish people to rely upon themselves. He led them 
 to victory at a time when long oppression and the 
 expatriation of all the energy of the country had 
 deprived them of every hope. He gave a voice to 
 their mute sufferings, and traced the lines of their 
 future progress. The cause of free trade and the 
 cause of legislative independence never again passed 
 out of the minds of Irishmen, and the non-importation 
 agreement of 1779 and the legislative emancipation of 
 1782 were the development of his policy. The street 
 ballads which he delighted in writing, the homely, 
 transparent nature of all his pamphlets, and the 
 peculiar vein of rich humour which pervaded them, 
 extended his influence to the very lowest class. His 
 birthdays were kept with public rejoicings. On his 
 return from England in 1726 bonfires were lit and 
 church bells rung. It is related of him that on one 
 occasion, being disturbed by a crowd who gathered at
 
 Ixxx BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the deanery door to watch an eclipse, he sent out his 
 servant with a bell to proclaim that by order of the 
 Dean of St. Patrick's the eclipse was postponed, and 
 the laughing crowd at once dispersed. On another 
 occasion he gave a guinea to a maidservant to buy a 
 new gown, with the characteristic injunction that it 
 should be of Irish stuff. When he afterwards re- 
 proached her with not having complied with his 
 injunction, she brought him his own volumes, which 
 she had purchased, saying they were the best " Irish 
 stuff" she knew. 
 
 In spite of all this popularity, Ireland never ceased 
 to be a land of exile to him. " It is time for me," he 
 wrote to Bolingbroke in 1729, "to have done with the 
 world ; and so I would if I could get into a better 
 world before I was called into the best ; and not die 
 here in a rage like a poisoned rat in a hole." He 
 more than once tried to obtain some English prefer- 
 ment instead of his deanery. With this object, on the 
 death of George I., he made an assiduous court to Mrs. 
 Howard, the mistress of the new sovereign, but soon 
 found that she possessed no real power. The presence 
 of Pope and Bolingbroke, whom he truly loved, 
 as well as the wider sphere which it furnished, drew 
 his affections to England, and a number of causes 
 made Ireland peculiarly painful to him. The non- 
 payment of some of his church revenues and some 
 litigation connected with the rights of his deanery 
 gave him much anxiety. He was engaged towards 
 the close of his life in ecclesiastical disputes, into the 
 details of which it is not necessary to enter. He 
 strenuously opposed Bills for commuting the tithes 
 of flax and hemp, for preventing the settlement of
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxxxi 
 
 landed property on the Church or on public charities, 
 for enlarging the power of the bishops in granting 
 leases, and for relieving pasture land from the pay- 
 ment of tithes ; and the first three Bills were ulti- 
 mately rejected. The conduct of the Irish House of 
 Commons in carrying a resolution in favour of the 
 last measure threw him into a paroxysm of fury. 
 Nothing he ever wrote, nothing indeed in English 
 literature, is more savage than the " Legion Club," in 
 which he described the Irish Parliament as a devil- 
 worshipping " den of thieves " — 
 
 " Scarce a bowshot from the college, 
 Half <-he globe from sense and knowledge, 
 
 Roaring till their lungs are spent 
 Privilege of Parliament — " 
 
 and he expressed his fervent hope that this Parliament 
 might some day be extirpated from the island. This 
 was his language about those " able and faithful 
 counsellors," whose protest against Wood's halfpence 
 he had so greatly blamed the English government for 
 neglecting. With the bishops also, who were always 
 strong Whigs, and who usually represented the 
 Church and State policy which he detested, he was 
 on bad terms. His judgment of them he expressed 
 with his usual emphasis. " Excellent and moral 
 men had been selected upon every occasion of 
 vacancy. But it unfortunately has uniformly hap- 
 pened that as these worthy divines crossed Hounslow 
 Heath, on their road to Ireland, to take possession of 
 their bishoprics, they have been regularly robbed and 
 murdered by the highwaymen frequenting that com- 
 mon, who seize upon their robes and patents, come 
 
 I. /
 
 lxxxii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 over to Ireland, and are consecrated bishops in their 
 stead." There was, indeed, a curious vein of demo- 
 cracy in his Toryism. " I hate everything with a 
 title," he once wrote, " except my books, and even in 
 those the shorter the title the better." 
 
 In the management of his deanery he was in all 
 essentials irreproachable, though his wayward, impe- 
 rious, eccentric nature was often shown. He was 
 indefatigable in maintaining its rights, most regular in 
 discharging its duties, exceedingly munificent in his 
 charities. He devoted a large sum out of his very 
 moderate income to loans to industrious tradesmen ; he 
 organized a system for giving badges to beggars, in 
 order to distinguish genuine from assumed poverty, and 
 he had a crowd of poor persons, usually old and infirm, 
 whom he was accustomed habitually to assist. Few 
 men can have given a larger proportion of their 
 incomes in charity, and Delany tells us that he 
 "never saw poor so carefully and conscientiously 
 attended to as those of his cathedral." Mrs. Pilkington 
 describes him, as she saw him after service, "at the 
 church door surrounded by a crowd of poor, to all of 
 whom he gave charity, except to one old woman who 
 held out a very dirty hand to him ; he told her gravely 
 that 'though she was a beggar, water was not so 
 scarce but she might have washed her hands.'" In 
 Dublin also, as in London, he was always ready to 
 help struggling talent, and many acts of kindness to 
 obscure and sometimes undeserving persons are re- 
 corded of him. " My notion," he wrote to Knightly 
 Chetwode, " is that if a man cannot mend the public, he 
 should mend old shoes if he can do no better, and there- 
 fore I endeavour in the little sphere I am placed in to
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxxxiii 
 
 do all the good it is capable of." He had some Church 
 patronage, and he administered it with scrupulous 
 care, and many anecdotes are preserved showing the 
 persistence with which he discouraged the idleness, 
 the extravagance, the intemperance, the love of dis- 
 play which prevailed in all ranks of Irish life. What- 
 ever might be thought of his influence on public affairs, 
 no one can doubt that in all these ways his influence 
 was most beneficent. 
 
 In 1726 he paid a visit to England after an absence 
 of twelve years. He was introduced to Walpole, 
 who received him with civility, and whom he en- 
 deavoured to interest, both directly and through the 
 medium of Peterborough, in Irish affairs. He also 
 revisited his old friends Pope and Bolingbroke, but 
 was soon recalled by the news that Stella was dying. 
 " I have been long weary," he wrote, " of the world, 
 and shall, for my small remainder of years, be weary 
 of life, having for ever lost that conversation which 
 could alone make it tolerable." Stella, however, 
 lingered till 1728. The close of her life was in keep- 
 ing with the rest, involved in circumstances of mystery 
 and obscurity ; and an anecdote is related concerning 
 it which, if it be accepted, would leave a deep stain on 
 the memory of Swift. The younger Sheridan states, 
 on the authority of his father, that a few days before 
 her death, Stella, in the presence of Sheridan, adjured 
 Swift to acknowledge the marriage that had previously 
 taken place between them, to save her reputation from 
 posthumous slander, and to grant her the consolation 
 of dying his admitted wife. He adds that Swift made 
 no reply, but walked silently out of the room, and 
 never saw her again during the few days that she lived ;
 
 1XXX1V BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that she was thrown by his behaviour into unspeakable 
 agonies of disappointment, inveighed bitterly against 
 his cruelty, and then sent for a lawyer and bequeathed 
 her property, in the presence of Sheridan, to charitable 
 purposes. But high as is the authority for this anecdote, 
 it is certainly inaccurate. The book in which it 
 appeared was only published fifty years after the time, 
 and its author was a boy when his father died. It 
 appears from the extant will that it was drawn up, not 
 a " few days," but a full month before the death of the 
 testator, and at a time when she was so far from re- 
 garding herself as on the point of death that she 
 described herself as in " tolerable health of body," left 
 a legacy to one of her servants if he should be alive 
 and in her service at the time of her death, and another 
 to the poor of the parish in which she may happen to 
 die. It is certain that the disposition of her property 
 was no sudden resolution, and it is equally certain that 
 it was not made contrary to the wishes of Swift, for a 
 letter by him exists which was written a year earlier, 
 in which he expresses a strong desire that she could be 
 induced to make her will, and states her intentions 
 about her property in the exact words which she 
 subsequently employed. On money matters Swift 
 was very disinterested, and it is not surprising that he 
 who had refused to marry Vanessa notwithstanding 
 her large fortune, should have advised Stella to be- 
 queath her property in charity. The terms of agonizing 
 sorrow and intense affection in which he at this time 
 wrote about her, and the entire absence of any known 
 reason why he should not have avowed the marriage 
 had she desired it, make the alleged act of harshness 
 very improbable ; and it may be added that the will
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxxxv 
 
 contains a bequest to Swift of a box of papers, and of a 
 bond for thirty pounds. The bulk of her property- 
 she bequeathed, as Swift had before intimated, to 
 Steevens Hospital, after the death of her mother 
 and sister, to revert to her nearest relative in case of 
 the disestablishment of the Protestant Church in Ireland. 
 As we have already seen, Swift had himself provided 
 for the same contingency in the case of some tithes 
 which he purchased when at Laracor, and left to his 
 descendants. Her body, in accordance with the desire 
 expressed in her will, was buried in St. Patrick's 
 Cathedral. On her monument, as in her will, she is 
 described simply as Esther Johnson. 
 
 In addition to the anecdote I have mentioned, there 
 is another related about the last hours of Stella which 
 is not very consistent with the former one. Mrs. 
 Whiteway, the niece of Swift, is said to have informed 
 one of his relations that Stella was carried shortly before 
 her death to the deanery, and being very feeble was 
 laid upon a bed, while Swift sat by the side, holding 
 her hand and addressing her in the most affectionate 
 terms. Mrs. Whiteway, out of delicacy, and being 
 unwilling to overhear their conversation, withdrew into 
 another room, but she could not help hearing two 
 broken sentences. Swift said in an audible tone, 
 " Well, my dear, if you wish it, it shall be owned ; " to 
 which Stella answered, with a sigh, " It is too late ! " 
 and it is assumed that these words referred to the 
 marriage. There is, however, no decisive evidence that 
 Stella ever complained of her relations with Swift, nor 
 does Swift ever appear during her lifetime to have 
 been accused of harshness to her. At the time of her 
 death she was forty-seven and Swift was sixty-one.
 
 lxxxvi BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 But whatever may have been the relation subsisting 
 between Stella and Swift, it is plain that when she died 
 the death-knell of his happiness had struck. " For my 
 part," he wrote to one of his friends shortly before the 
 event took place, " as I value life very little, so the poor 
 casual remains of it, after such a loss, would be a burden 
 that I must heartily beg God Almighty to enable me 
 to bear ; and I think there is not a greater folly than 
 that of entering into too strict and particular a 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." That morbid melan- 
 choly to which he had ever been subject assumed 
 a darker hue and a more unremitting sway as the 
 shadows began to lengthen upon his path. It had 
 appeared very vividly in " Gulliver's Travels," which 
 was published in 1726. Like nearly all Swift's works 
 this great book was published anonymously, and like 
 nearly all of them it met with a great and immediate 
 success. It is, indeed, one of the most original as well 
 as one of the most enduring books of the eighteenth 
 century. Few things might have seemed more im- 
 possible than to combine in a single work the charm 
 of an eminently popular children's story, a savage 
 satire on human nature, and a large amount of shrewd 
 and practical political speculation. Yet all this will be 
 found in " Gulliver." Of all Swift's works it probably 
 exhibits most frequently his idiosyncrasies and his 
 sentiments. We find his old hatred of mathematics 
 displayed in the history of Laputa ; his devotion to his 
 disgraced friends in the attempt to cast ridicule on the 
 evidence on which Atterbury was condemned ; his 
 antipathy to Sir Isaac Newton, whose habitual absence
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxxxvii 
 
 of mind is said to have suggested the flappers ; as well 
 as allusions to Sir R. Walpole, to the doubtful policy of 
 the Prince of Wales, and to the antipathy Queen Anne 
 had conceived against him on account of the indecorous 
 manner in which he had defended the Church. We find, 
 above all, his profound disenchantment with human 
 life and his deep-seated contempt for mankind in his 
 picture of the Yahoos. Embittered by disappointment 
 and ill-health, and separated by death or by his position 
 from all he most deeply loved, he had learnt to look 
 with contempt upon the contests in which so much of 
 his life had been expended, and his naturally stern, 
 gloomy, and foreboding nature darkened into an 
 intense misanthropy. " I love only individuals," he 
 once wrote. He " hated and detested that animal 
 called man," and he declared that he wrote " Gulliver " 
 '* to vex the world rather than to divert it." It was his 
 deliberate opinion that man is hopelessly corrupt, that 
 the evil preponderates over the good, and that life itself 
 is a curse. No one who really understands Swift will 
 question the reality and the intensity of this misan- 
 thropy. It was one of his strange habits to celebrate his 
 birthday by reading the third chapter of the Book of 
 Job, in which the patriarch cursed bitterly the day of 
 his birth. "I hate life," he once wrote on learn- 
 ing the early death of a dear friend, " when I think it 
 is exposed to such accidents, and to see so many 
 thousand wretches burdening the earth while such as 
 her die makes me think God did never intend life for 
 a blessing." " Life," he wrote to Pope, " is not a farce ; 
 it is a ridiculous tragedy, which is the worst kind of 
 composition." 
 The melancholy of Swift was doubtless essentially
 
 lxxxviii BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 constitutional, and mainly due to a physical malady 
 which had long acted upon his brain. His nature 
 was a profoundly unhappy one, but it is not true that 
 his life was on the whole unprosperous. Very few 
 penniless men of genius have had the advantages which 
 he obtained at an early age by his connection with Sir 
 William Temple. He tasted in ample measure all the 
 sweets of literary success, and although his political 
 career was chequered by grave disappointments he 
 obtained both in England and in Ireland some brilliant 
 triumphs. A deanery in an important provincial 
 capital, where he was adored by the populace, and 
 where he had warm friends among the gentry, may 
 not have been all to which he aspired, but it was no 
 very deplorable fate, and although the income attached 
 to it was moderate and at one time greatly diminished, 
 it was sufficient for his small wants and frugal habits. 
 Above all, few men have received from those who knew 
 them best a larger measure of affection and friendship. 
 But happiness and misery come mainly from within, 
 and to Swift life had lost all its charm. After " Gulliver," 
 his literary activity sensibly abated, but in 173 1 he 
 wrote one of the most powerful, but also the saddest 
 of his poems, the poem on his own death. 
 
 Age had begun to press heavily upon him, and age 
 ne had ever regarded as the greatest of human ills. In 
 his picture of the " Immortals " he had painted its at- 
 tendant evils as they had never been painted before. 
 He had ridiculed the reverence paid to the old, as 
 resembling that which the vulgar pay to comets, for 
 their beards and their pretensions to foretell the future. 
 He had predicted that, like the blasted tree, he would 
 himself die first at the top. Those whom he had valued
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. lxxxix 
 
 the most had almost all preceded him to the tomb. 
 Oxford, Arbuthnot, Peterborough, Gay, Lady Masham 
 and Rowe, had one by one dropped off. Of all that 
 brilliant company who had surrounded him in the 
 days of his power, Pope and Bolingbroke alone re- 
 mained, and Pope was sinking under continued ill- 
 ness, and Bolingbroke was drawing his last breath in 
 the more congenial atmosphere of France. A cloud 
 had passed over his friendship with Sheridan, whom he 
 sincerely loved, but whose boisterous spirits had be- 
 come too much for the old and misanthropic man, and 
 Sheridan had now gone with broken fortunes to a 
 school at Cavan. Stella had left no successor. His 
 niece, Mrs. Whiteway, watched over him with un- 
 wearied kindness, but she could not supply the place 
 of those who had gone. 
 
 He looked forward to death without terror, but his 
 mind quailed at the prospect of the dotage and the 
 decrepitude that precedes it. He had seen the greatest 
 general and the greatest lawyer of the day sink into 
 second childhood, and he felt that the fate of 
 Marlborough and of Somers would at last be his own. 
 A large mirror once fell to the ground in the room 
 where he was standing. A friend observed how 
 nearly it had killed him. " Would to God," he ex- 
 claimed, " that it had ! " His later letters — especially 
 his letters to his friend Knightly Chetwode — are full of 
 complaints of attacks of deafness and dizziness, of 
 failure of memory, of confusion of mind. He was con- 
 scious of failing powers, and grew morbidly restless 
 and irritable. His flashes of wit became fewer and fewer. 
 Avarice, the common vice of the old, came upon him, 
 and he was himself quite aware of the fact. He shrank
 
 XC BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 from all hospitality, from all luxuries. Yet even at this 
 time his large charities were unabated, and he refused 
 a considerable sum which was offered him to renew a 
 lease on terms that would be disadvantageous to his 
 successors. 
 
 After 1736 the failure of his faculties grew very 
 evident, and in 1 742 it became necessary to place him 
 under restraint. 
 
 At length the evil day arrived. A tumour, accom- 
 panied by excruciating pain, arose over one of his 
 eyes. For a month he never gained a moment of 
 repose. For a week he was with difficulty restrained 
 by force from tearing out his eye. The agony was 
 too great for human endurance. It subsided at last, 
 but his mind had wholly ebbed away. It was not 
 madness ; it was absolute idiocy that ensued. He 
 remained passive in the hands of his attendants with- 
 out speaking, or moving, cr betraying the slightest 
 emotion. Once, indeed, when someone spoke of the 
 illuminations by which the people were celebrating the 
 anniversary of his birthday, he muttered, " It is all folly ; 
 they had better leave it alone." Occasionally he en- 
 deavoured to rouse himself from his torpor, but could 
 not find words to form a sentence, and with a deep sigh 
 he relapsed into his former condition. His face, Mrs. 
 Delany tells us, retained all its old beauty ; the 
 hard lines that once gave it a harsh expression had 
 passed away, while his long silver hair gave him a most 
 venerable appearance, but every spark of intelligence 
 had disappeared. It was not till he had continued in 
 this state for two years that he exchanged the sleep of 
 idiocy for the sleep of death. 
 
 He died in October, 1745, in his seventy-eighth year,
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. XC1 
 
 and was buried beside Stella, in his own cathedral, 
 where the following epitaph, written by himself, 
 marks his grave : 
 
 HIC DEPOSITUM EST CORPUS 
 
 JONATHAN SWIFT, S.T.P. 
 
 HUJUS ECCLESI/E CATHEDRALIS 
 
 DECANI. 
 
 UBI SiEVA INDIGNATIO 
 
 COR ULTERIUS LACERARE NEQUIT. 
 
 ABI VIATOR, 
 
 ET IMITARE SI POTERIS, 
 
 STRENUUM PRO VIRILI LIBERTATIS VINDICEM. 
 
 His property he left to build a madhouse. It would 
 seem as though he were guided in his determination by 
 an anticipation of his own fate. He himself assigned 
 another reason. He says in his poem on his own 
 death : 
 
 " He left the little wealth he had 
 To build a house for fools and mad, 
 To show by one satiric touch 
 No nation needed it so much."
 
 The paper of " Resolutions," of which a facsimile (slightly 
 reduced) is given opposite, was found by Mrs. Whiteway among 
 Swift's papers at his death. It is here reproduced from the 
 original, now in the Forster Collection at South Kensington. 
 The following is a literal transcript : 
 
 When I come to be old. 1699. 
 
 Not to marry a young Woman. 
 
 Not to keep young Company unless they reely desire it. 
 
 Not to be peevish or morose, or suspicious. 
 
 Not to scorn present Ways, or Wits, or Fashions, or Men, or 
 
 War, &c. 
 Not to be fond of Children, or let them come near me hardly? 
 Not to tell the same story over and over to the same People. 
 Not to be covetous. 
 Not to neglect decency, or cleenlyness, for fear of falling into 
 
 Nastyness. 
 Not to be over severe with young People, but give Allowances 
 
 for their youthfull follyes and weaknesses. 
 Not to be influenced by, or give ear to knavish tatling servants, 
 
 or others. 
 Not to be too free of advise, nor trouble any but those that 
 
 desire it. 
 To desire 2 some good Friends to inform me w ch of these Resolu- 
 tions I break, or neglect, and wherein ; and reform 
 
 accordingly. 
 Not to talk much, nor of my self. 
 Not to boast of my former beauty, or strength, or favor with 
 
 Ladyes, &c. 
 Not to hearken to Flatteryes, nor conceive I can be beloved by 
 
 a young woman, et eos qui hereditatem captant, odisse 
 
 ac vitare. 
 Not to be positive or opiniative. 
 Not to sett up for observing all these Rules ; for fear I should 
 
 observe none. 
 
 1 The words in italics were erased by another hand, probably by 
 Deane Swift. 
 
 2 The original word was ' ' conjure."
 
 
 fev t. t u* r^^ u rr uUr ' cv Cf '-^-^. K ^r f te ^ 
 "Tut t* &■ t**^r . . , f ■/*, / // / , 
 
 ML. <& ^"% "" / M 
 
 fifing 1 y *»" ^,~Ji^u~ A- *<* wg, *v 
 
 ^^" • * a v ^i .<•&&.<*(**. t^w^w <***% dry, cc uU***. 
 
 •TA^fcg; Tarwrrt- -.i riu^r gates •*■<,»■•
 
 A TALE OF A TUB.
 
 NOTE. 
 
 The " Tale of a Tub " was first published in April or May of the year 
 1704. Before the end of the year there had appeared three editions 
 in addition to those which were published in Ireland. In the following 
 year an authorized edition was issued by Mr. John Nutt ; this is the 
 fourth. In 1710, the same bookseller published the fifth edition, which 
 included, for the first time, the "Author's Apology," and the notes by 
 Wotton and others. The present text is based on this edition. 
 
 Apparently Nutt must either have sold or handed over the copy- 
 right of the work to Benjamin Motte and Tooke, for these booksellers 
 issued the sixth and seventh editions in 1724 and 1727. There were 
 other issues before 1750 (see Bibliography in vol. xii of this edition). 
 Wotton's annotations originally appeared in a pamphlet entitled " A 
 Defense of the Reflections upon Ancient and Modern Learning .... 
 with observations upon ' The Tale of a Tub,' " (London : Tim Goodwin, 
 1705). They were written by way of exposing the errors of what he 
 considered to be a ridiculous work. Swift turned the tables on him by 
 frankly accepting them, since they were really valuable expositions. 
 Thus it happens, in the words of Mr. Forster, that " its most envenomed 
 assailant has, in countless editions since, figured as its friendly illus- 
 trator." 
 
 At the time of its publication Swift was thirty-seven years of age, but 
 the "Tale" itself had been finished and ready for the printer more 
 than seven years before. The greater part of it, as Swift himself says in 
 his "Apology," was written in 1696. 
 
 On its first appearance the book made a great hit, and, as it was 
 issued anonymously, there was much speculation as to its author. 
 Sacheverell ascribed it to Smalridge, but that gentleman had to keep 
 clean a reputation which he was saving up for ecclesiastical prefer- 
 ment, and he immediately repudiated it. Two young Oxford students, 
 Edmund Smith and John Philips, did not take any active steps to deny 
 the imputation of authorship when it was laid upon them. Each had a 
 fairly respectable literary ability, but of the first there are now left only 
 the reputation of his profligacy, and a tragedy, " Phaedra and Hippo- 
 litus, while the fame of the second rests on the tottering foundations 
 of his Miltonic parody, " The Splendid Shilling." 
 
 Wotton, in his criticism on the "Tale," said that Thomas Swift 
 was its author. This belief may have arisen from the fact that a copy 
 of some portion of a satire which Swift originally made for Temple 
 had, after Temple's death, fallen into the hands of Thomas Swift. 
 Curll, in what Forster calls his "scurrilous 'Key,'" affirms that the
 
 XCV1 NOTE. 
 
 " Tale " was " pei formed by a couple of young clergymen who, having 
 been domestic chaplains to Sir William Temple, thought themselves 
 obliged to take up his quarrel." The "couple of young clergymen" 
 were Jonathan and Thomas Swift. The base insinuations which Curll 
 goes on to make were treated by Swift in a contemptuous fashion. He 
 suspected, in a letter to Tooke ' (who had sent him a copy of the 
 "Key"), that his "little parson-cousin" (meaning Thomas Swift) was 
 at the bottom of it. 
 
 Dr. Johnson's doubt about Swift being the author may be put down 
 to the inexplicable repugnance he had for Swift. Forster sufficiently 
 answers him when he sarcastically remarks that ' ' Swift was to lose a 
 bishopric in one generation because a piece of writing was thought too 
 witty to be fathered on anybody else, and in the next he was to lose the 
 credit of having written the piece because it was too witty to be fathered 
 on him " (" Life," pp. 156, 157). 
 
 The only written avowals of Swift with regard to the " Tale's * 
 authorship are in letters to Esther Johnson 2 and Ben Tooke, But, 
 indeed, at the time it was perfectly well known among a certain set 
 that Swift was the author. Otherwise it is difficult to explain how 
 Archbishop Sharp could have succeeded in preventing Swift's appoint- 
 ment to a bishopric, when he urged that the author of the "Tale of a 
 Tub " was not a proper person to hold such an office. 
 
 Mrs. Whiteway's anecdote must also be taken as good evidence, and 
 its meaning cannot be mistaken. In the latter years of Swift's life, 
 she observed, on one occasion, the Dean looking over the " Tale," 
 when suddenly closing the book he muttered to himself unconsciously, 
 " Good God ! what a genius I had when I wrote that book ! " 
 
 Mr. Churton Collins draws attention to a curious point which has 
 escaped other biographers. He finds that Archbishop Sharp, who 
 biassed Queen Anne against Swift for writing the " Tale," printed a 
 sermon in which he uses an allegory very similar to that of Swift's. As 
 Sharp's sermon was in existence in 1686, it is probable that Swift was 
 indebted to it for the hint. (See Mr. Collins's "Jonathan Swift," p. 47. ) 
 
 "The History of Martin " is reprinted from the third volume of the 
 "Supplement to Dr. Swift's Works," published by Nichols in 1779. 
 There it is stated that it is taken from a Dutch edition of 1720, and is 
 headed, " Abstract of what, in the Dutch edition, is said to have followed 
 Sect. IX. of the MS." The full title of this Dutch volume is " Miscel- 
 laneous Works, Comical and Diverting: by T.R.D.J.S.D.O.P.I.I. in 
 Two Parts. I. The Tale of a Tub; with the Fragment, and the Battel 
 of the Books ; with considerable additions, and explanatory notes, never 
 before printed. II. Miscellanies in Prose and Verse, by the supposed 
 Author of the First Part. London, Printed by Order of the Society de 
 Propagando, &c. 1720." (See Bibliography.) 
 
 With the "Tale" have always appeared in the same volume "The 
 Battle of the Books" and "The Mechanical Operation of the Spirit." 
 [T. S.] 
 
 1 29 June, 1710 (Scott's 2nd edit., xv, 363). 
 3 7 Oct., 1710 (vol. ii, p. 24 of this edition).
 
 T A* L E 
 
 OF A 
 
 T U B. 
 
 Written for the Univerfal Im- 
 provement of Mankind. 
 
 Diu multumque defideratum. 
 
 To which is added, 
 
 An ACCOUNT of a 
 
 BATTEL 
 
 BETWEEN THE 
 
 Antient and Modern BOOKS 
 in St. James's Library. 
 
 Bafima eacabafa eanaa irraurifta, diarba da caeotaba 
 fobor camelanthi. Iren. Lib. I. C. 18. 
 
 "Juvatque novos decerpere flores, 
 
 Infignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam, 
 
 Vnde prius nulli velarunt tempora Mufa. Lucret. 
 
 The Fifth Edition : With the Au- 
 thor's Apology and Explanatory Notes. 
 By W. W-tt-n, B. D. and others. 
 
 LONDON: Printed for John Nutt, near 
 Stationers-Hall. M DCC X. 
 
 I. B
 
 Treatises wrote by the same Author, most of them mentioned 
 in the following Discourses ; which will be speedily pub- 
 lished. 
 
 A Character of the present Set ^/"Wits in this Island. 
 
 A panegyrical Essay upo?i the Number Three. 
 
 A Dissertation upon the principal Productions of Grub- 
 Street. 
 
 Lectures upon a Dissection of Human Nature. 
 
 A Panegyric upon the Wo? Id. 
 
 An analytical Discourse upoii Zeal, histori-theophysi- 
 logically considered. 
 
 A general History of Ears. 
 
 A modest Defence of the Proceedings of the Rabble in all 
 ages. 
 
 A Description of the Kingdom of Absurdities. 
 
 A Voyage into England, by a Person of Quality in Terra 
 Australis incognita, translated from the Original. 
 
 A critical Essay upon the Art of Canting, philosophically, 
 physically, and musically considered.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 ANALYTICAL TABLE. 1 
 
 The Author's Apology. 
 
 'T'HE Tale approved of by a great majority among the 
 ■*- men of taste. Some treatises written expressly 
 against it ; but not one syllable in its defence. The greatest 
 part of it finished in 1696, eight years before it was 
 published. The author's intention when he began it. No 
 irreligious or immoral opinion can fairly be deduced from 
 the book. The clergy have no reason to dislike it. The 
 author's intention not having met with a candid interpreta- 
 tion, he declined engaging in a task he had proposed to 
 himself, of examining some publications, that were intended 
 against all religion. Unfair to fix a name upon an author, 
 who had so industriously concealed himself. The Letter 
 on Enthusiasm,* ascribed by several to the same author. 
 If the abuses in law or physic had been the subject of 
 this treatise, the learned professors in either faculty would 
 have been more liberal than the clergy. The passages 
 which appear most liable to objection are parodies. The 
 author entirely innocent of any intention of glancing at 
 those tenets of religion, which he has by some pre- 
 judiced or ignorant readers been supposed to mean. This 
 
 1 This was printed by Nichols in vol. xiv of the 4th edition of Swift 
 (1779) as " Improved from a Book Printed in Holland "; the Analysis 
 of « ' The Author's Apology " did not appear in ' ' Miscellaneous Works, " 
 1720, the book referred to. [W. S. J.] 
 
 1 This celebrated Letter, which was generally supposed to have been 
 written by Dr. Swift, and by him, with as little foundation, ascribed to 
 his friend Colonel Hunter, was the production of the noble author of 
 the "Characteristics." [Nichols.] See also p. 14. [W. S. J.]
 
 4 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 particularly the case in the passage about the three wooden 
 machines. An irony runs through the whole book. 
 Not necessary to take notice of treatises written against it. 
 The usual fate of common answerers to books of merit, is to 
 sink into waste paper and oblivion. The case very different, 
 when a great genius exposes a foolish piece. Reflections 
 occasioned by Dr. King's Remarks on the Tale of a Tub ; 
 others, by Mr. Wotton. The manner in which the Tale was 
 first published accounted for. The Fragment not printed 
 in the way the author intended ; being the ground-work of a 
 much larger discourse. The oaths of Peter why introduced. 
 The severest strokes of satire in the treatise are levelled 
 against the custom of employing wit in profaneness or 
 immodesty. Wit the noblest and most useful gift of human 
 nature ; and humour the most agreeable. Those who have 
 no share of either, think the blow weak, because they are 
 themselves insensible. 
 
 P.S. The author of the Key wrong in all his conjectures. 
 The whole work entirely by one hand ; the author defying 
 any one to claim three lines in the book. 
 
 The Bookseller's Dedication to Lord Somers. 
 
 How he finds out that lord to be the patron intended by 
 his author. Dedicators ridiculous, who praise their patrons 
 for qualities that do not belong to them. 
 
 The Bookseller to the Header. 
 
 Tells how long he has had these papers, when they were 
 written, and why he publishes them now. 
 
 The Dedication to Posterity. 
 
 The author, apprehending that Time will soon destroy 
 almost all the writings of this age, complains of his malice 
 against modern authors and their productions, in hurrying 
 them so quickly off the scene; and therefore addresses 
 posterity in favour of his contemporaries ; assures him they 
 abound in wit and learning, and books ; and, for instance, 
 mentions Dryden, Tate, D'Urfey, Bentley, and Wotton.
 
 ANALYTICAL TABLE. 
 
 Preface. 
 
 The occasion and design of this work. 
 
 Project for employing the beaux of the nation. Of 
 modern prefaces. Modern wit how delicate. Method for 
 penetrating into an author's thoughts. 
 
 Complaints of every writer against the multitude of 
 writers, like the fat fellows in a crowd. Our author insists 
 on the common privilege of writers ; to be favourably 
 explained, when not understood ; and to praise himself in 
 the modern way. This treatise without satire ; and why. 
 Fame sooner gotten by satire than panegyric ; the subject of 
 the latter being narrow, and that of the former infinite. 
 Difference between Athens and England, as to general and 
 particular satire. The author designs a panegyric on the 
 world, and a modest defence of the rabble. 
 
 Sect. I. The Introduction. A physico-mythological 
 dissertation on the different sorts of oratorial machines. Of 
 the bar and the bench. The author fond of the number 
 Three ; promises a panegyric on it. Of pulpits ; which are 
 the best. Of ladders ; on which the British orators surpass 
 all others. Of the stage itinerant ; the seminary of the two 
 former. A physical reason why those machines are elevated. 
 Of the curious contrivance of modern theatres. These 
 three machines emblematically represent the various sorts of 
 authors. 
 
 An apologetical dissertation for the Grub-Street writers, 
 against their revolted rivals of Gresham and Will's. Super- 
 ficial readers cannot easily find out wisdom ; which is com- 
 pared to several pretty things. Commentaries promised on 
 several writings of Grub-Street authors ; as Reynard the 
 Fox, Tom Thumb, Dr. Faustus, Whittington and his Cat, 
 the Hind and Panther, Tommy Pots, and the Wise Men of 
 Gotham. The author's pen and person worn out in serving 
 the state. Multiplicity of titles and dedications. 
 
 Sect. II. Tale of a Tub. Of a Father and his Three 
 Sons. His will, and his legacies to them. Of the young 
 men's carriage at the beginning : and of the genteel qualifi- 
 cations they acquired in town. Description of a new sect, 
 who adored their creator the tailor. Of their idol, and 
 their system. The three brothers follow the mode against
 
 6 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 their father's will ; and get shoulder-knots, by help of dis- 
 tinctions ; gold-lace, by help of tradition ; flame-coloured 
 satin lining, by means of a supposed codicil ; silver fringe, 
 by virtue of critical interpretation ; and embroidery of Indian 
 figures, by laying aside the plain literal meaning. The will 
 at last locked up. Peter got into a lord's house, and after 
 his death turned out his children, and took in his own 
 brothers in their stead. 
 
 Sect. III. A Digression concerning Critics. Three 
 sorts of Critics ; the two first sorts now extinct. The true 
 sort of Critics' genealogy ; office ; definition. Antiquity of 
 their race proved from Pausanias, who represents them by 
 Asses browsing on vines ; and Herodotus, by Asses with 
 horns ; and by an Ass that frightened a Scythian army ; and 
 Diodorus, by a Poisonous Weed ; and Ctesias, by Serpents 
 that poison with their vomit ; and Terence, by the name of 
 Malevoli. The true Critic compared to a Tailor, and to a 
 true Beggar. Three characteristics of a true modern 
 Critic. 
 
 Sect. IV. Tale of a Tub continued. Peter assumes 
 grandeur and titles ; and, to support them, turns projector. 
 The Author's hopes of being translated into foreign languages. 
 Peter's first invention, of Terra Australis Incognita. The 
 second of a remedy for Worms. The third, a Whispering- 
 Office. Fourth, an Insurance-Office. Fifth, an Universal 
 Pickle. Sixth, a set of Bulls with leaden feet. Lastly, his 
 pardons to malefactors. Peter's brains turned ; he plays 
 several tricks, and turns out his brothers' wives. Gives his 
 brothers bread for mutton and for wine. Tells huge lies : 
 of a Cow's milk, that would fill 3,000 churches ; of a Sign-post 
 as large as a man of war ; of a House, that travelled 2,000 
 leagues. The brothers steal a copy of the will ; break open 
 the cellar door; and are both kicked out of doors by 
 Peter. 
 
 Sect. V. A Digression in the modern kind. Our 
 author expatiates on his great pains to serve the public by 
 instructing, and more by diverting. The Moderns having 
 so far excelled the Ancients, the Author gives them a receipt 
 for a complete system of all arts and sciences, in a small 
 pocket volume. Several defects discovered in Homer ; and 
 his ignorance in modern invention, &c. Our Author's
 
 ANALYTICAL TABLE. 7 
 
 writings fit to supply all defects. He justifies his praising 
 his own writings, by modern examples. 
 
 Sect. VI. Tale of a Tub continued. The Two 
 Brothers ejected, agree in a resolution to reform, according 
 to the will. They take different names ; and are found to 
 be of different complexions. How Martin began rudely, 
 but proceeded more cautiously, in reforming his coat. Jack, 
 of a different temper, and full of zeal, begins tearing all to 
 pieces. He endeavours to kindle up Martin to the same 
 pitch ; but, not succeeding, they separate. Jack runs mad, 
 gets many names, and founds the sect of ./Eolists. 
 
 Sect. VII. A Digression in praise of Digressions. 
 Digressions suited to modern palates. A proof of depraved 
 appetites; but necessary for modern writers. Two ways 
 now in use to be book-learned; i. by learning Titles ; 2. by 
 reading Indexes. Advantages of this last : and of Abstracts. 
 The number of writers increasing above the quantity of 
 matter, this method becomes necessary and useful. The 
 Reader empowered to transplant this Digression. 
 
 Sect. VIII. Tale of a Tub continued. System of 
 the ^Eolists : they hold wind, or spirit, to be the origin of 
 all things, and to bear a great part in their composition. Of 
 the fourth and fifth animas attributed by them to man. Of 
 their belching, or preaching. Their inspiration from Irarta. 
 They use barrels for pulpits. Female officers used for 
 inspiration ; and why. The notion opposite to that of a 
 Deity, fittest to form a Devil. Two Devils dreaded by the 
 vEolists. Their relation with a Northern nation. The 
 Author's respect for this sect. 
 
 Sect. IX. Dissertation on Madness. Great con- 
 querors of empires, and founders of sects in philosophy and 
 religion, have generally been persons whose reason was 
 disturbed. A small vapour, mounting to the brain, may 
 occasion great revolutions. Examples ; of Henry IV., who 
 made great preparations for war, because of his mistress's 
 absence ; and of Louis XIV., whose great actions concluded 
 in a fistula. Extravagant notions of several great philoso- 
 phers, how nice to distinguish from madness. Mr. Wotton's 
 fatal mistake, in misapplying his peculiar talents. Madness 
 the source of conquests and systems. Advantages of fiction 
 and delusion over truth and reality. The outside of things
 
 8 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 better than the inside. Madness, how useful. A proposal 
 for visiting Bedlam, and employing the divers members in a 
 way useful to the public. 
 
 Sect. X. The Author's compliments to the Readers. 
 Great civilities practised between the Authors and Readers ; 
 and our Author's thanks to the whole nation. How well 
 satisfied Authors and Booksellers are. To what occasions 
 we owe most of the present writings. Of a paltry scribbler, 
 our Author is afraid of; and therefore desires Dr. Bentley's 
 protection. He gives here his whole store at one meal. 
 Usefulness of this treatise to different sorts of Readers ; the 
 superficial, the ignorant, and the learned. Proposal for 
 making some ample Commentaries on this work ; and of the 
 usefulness of Commentaries for dark writers. Useful hints 
 for the Commentators of this Treatise. 
 
 Sect. XI. The Tale of a Tub continued. The 
 Author, not in haste to be at home, shews the difference 
 between a traveller weary, or in haste, and another in good 
 plight, that takes his pleasure, and views every pleasant 
 scene in his way. The sequel of Jack's adventures ; his 
 superstitious veneration for the Holy Scripture, and the 
 uses he made of it. His flaming zeal, and blind submission 
 to the Decrees. His harangue for Predestination. He 
 covers roguish tricks with a show of devotion. Affects 
 singularity in manners and speech. His aversion to music 
 and painting. His discourses provoke sleep. His groaning, 
 and affecting to suffer for the good cause. The great anti- 
 pathy of Peter and Jack made them both run into extremes, 
 where they often met. 
 
 The degenerate ears of this age cannot afford a sufficient 
 handle to hold men by. The senses and passions afford 
 many handles. Curiosity is that by which our Author has 
 held his readers so long. The rest of this story lost, &c. 
 
 The Conclusion. Of the proper Seasons for publishing 
 books. Of profound Writers. Of the ghost of Wit. Sleep 
 and the Muses nearly related. Apology for the Author's fits 
 of dulness. Method and Reason the lacquey of Invention. 
 Our Author's great collection of Flowers of little use till 
 now.
 
 ANALYTICAL TABLE. 9 
 
 A Discourse concerning the Mechanical Operation 
 
 of the Spirit. 
 
 The Author, at a loss what title to give this piece, finds, 
 after much pains, that of A Letter to a Friend to be most in 
 vogue. Of modern excuses for haste and negligence, &c. 
 
 Sect. I. Mahomet's fancy of being carried to Heaven by 
 an Ass, followed by many Christians. A great affinity 
 between this creature and man. That talent of bringing 
 his rider to Heaven, the subject of this Discourse ; but for 
 Ass and Rider, the Author uses the synonymous terms of 
 Enlightened Teacher and Fanatic Hearer. A tincture of 
 Enthusiasm runs through all men and all sciences; but 
 prevails most in Religion. Enthusiasm defined and dis- 
 tinguished. That which is Mechanical and Artificial is 
 treated of by our Author. Though Art oftentimes changes 
 into Nature : examples in the Scythian Longheads, and 
 English Roundheads. — Sense and Reason must be laid 
 aside to let this Spirit operate. The objections about the 
 manner of the Spirit from above descending upon the 
 Apostles, make not against this Spirit that arises within. 
 The methods by which the Assembly helps to work up this 
 Spirit, jointly with the Preacher. 
 
 Sect. II. How some worship a good Being, others an 
 evil. Most people confound the bounds of good and evil. 
 Vain mortals think the Divinity interested in their meanest 
 actions. The scheme of spiritual mechanism left out. Of 
 the usefulness of quilted night-caps, to keep in the heat, to 
 give motion and vigour to the little animals that compose 
 the brain. Sound of far greater use than sense in the 
 operations of the Spirit, as in Music. Inward light consists 
 of theological monosyllables and mysterious texts. Of the 
 great force of one vowel in canting; and of blowing the 
 nose, hawking, spitting, and belching. The Author to 
 publish an Essay on the Art of Canting. Of speaking 
 through the nose, or snuffling : its origin from a disease 
 occasioned by a conflict betwixt the Flesh and the Spirit. 
 Inspired vessels, like lanterns, have a sorry sooty outside. 
 Fanaticism deduced from the Ancients, in their Orgies, 
 Bacchanals, &c. Of their great lasciviousness on those 
 occasions. The Fanatics of the first centuries, and those of
 
 10 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 later times, generally agree in the same principle, of improv- 
 ing spiritual into carnal ejaculations, &c 
 
 The Battle of the Books. 
 
 The Preface tells us, this piece was written in 1697, on 
 accountof a famous dispute about Ancient and Modern Learn- 
 ing, between Sir William Temple and the Earl of Orrery 
 on the one side, and Mr. Wotton and Bentley on the other. 
 War and Invasions generally proceed from the attacks of 
 Want and Poverty upon Plenty and Riches. The Moderns 
 quarrel with the Ancients, about the possession of the highest 
 top of Parnassus; and desire them to surrender it, or to 
 let it be levelled. The answer of the Ancients not accepted. 
 A war ensues ; in which rivulets of ink are spilt ; and both 
 parties hang out their trophies, books of controversy. These 
 books haunted with disorderly spirits ; though often bound 
 to the peace in Libraries. The Author's advice in this case 
 neglected ; which occasions a terrible fight in St. James's 
 Library. Dr. Bentley, the Library-keeper, a great enemy to 
 the Ancients. The Moderns, finding themselves 50,000 
 strong, give the Ancients ill language. Temple, a favourite 
 of the Ancients. An incident of a quarrel between a Bee 
 and a Spider; with their arguments on both sides. ^Esop 
 applies them to the present dispute. The order of battle of 
 the Moderns, and names of their leaders. The leaders of 
 the Ancients. Jupiter calls a council of the Gods, and 
 consults the books of Fate ; and then sends his orders below. 
 Momus brings the news to Criticism ; whose habitation and 
 company is described. She arrives ; and sheds her influence 
 on her son Wotton. The battle described. Paracelsus 
 engages Galen ; Aristotle aims at Bacon, and kills Descartes; 
 Homer overthrows Gondibert, kills Denham and Wesley, 1 
 Perrault 2 and Fontenelle. 3 Encounter of Virgil and Dryden ; 
 
 1 Samuel Wesley, rector of Ormesby and Epworth, in Lincolnshire. 
 He died April 25, 1735. [S.] 
 
 2 Charles Perrault, author of a poem, entitled, " Le Siecle de Louis 
 le Grand," in which the modern authors are exalted above the ancient ; 
 and of several other curious works. He was born in 1626, and died in 
 1703. [Nichols.] 
 
 s The celebrated author of " The Plurality of Worlds ; " who died in 
 1756, when he wanted only a few days of completing his hundredth 
 year. [Nichols.]
 
 ANALYTICAL TABLE. II 
 
 of Lucan and Blackmore ; of Creech and Horace ; of Pindar 
 and Cowley. The episode of Bentley and Wotton. Bent- 
 ley's armour. His speech to the modern generals. Scaliger's 
 answer. Bentley and Wotton march together. Bentley 
 attacks Phalaris and JRsop. Wotton attacks Temple in 
 vain. Boyle pursues Wotton ; and, meeting Bentley in his 
 way, he pursues and kills them both.
 
 AN APOLOGY 
 
 For the, d^v. 
 
 /F good and ill nature equally operated upon Mankind, 1 
 might have saved myself the trouble of this Apology ; for 
 it is manifest by the reception the following discourse hath met 
 with, that those who approve it, are a great majority among 
 the men of taste ; yet there have been two or three treatises 
 written expressly against it, besides many others that have 
 flirted at it occasionally, without one syllable having been ever 
 published in its defence, or even quotation to its advantage, that 
 I can remember, except by the polite author of a late discourse 
 between a Deist and a Socinian. 
 
 Therefore, since the book seems calculated to live, at least as 
 long as our language and our taste admit no great alterations, 
 I am content to convey some Apology along with it. 
 
 The greatest part of that hook 7ms finished above thirteen 
 years since, 1696, which is eight years before it was published. 
 The author was then young, his invention at the height, and 
 his reading fresh in his head. By the assistance of some 
 thinking, and much conversation, he had endeavour 'd to strip 
 himself of as many real prejudices as he could ; I say real ones, 
 because, under the notion of prejudices, he knew to what 
 dangerous heights some men have proceeded. Thus prepared, 
 he thought the numerojis and gross corruptions in Religion 
 and Learning might furnish matter for a satire, that would 
 be useful and diverting. He resolved to proceed in a manner 
 that should be altogether new, the world having been already 
 too long nauseated with endless repetitions upon every subject. 
 The abuses in Religion, he proposed to set forth in the Allegory 
 of the Coats, and the three Brothers, which was to make up 
 the body of the discourse. Those in learning, he chose to intro- 
 duce by way of digressions. He was then a young gentleman
 
 AN APOLOGY. 13 
 
 much in the world, 1 and wrote to the taste of those who were 
 like himself ; therefore, in order to allure them, he gave a 
 liberty to his pen, which might not suit with maturer years, or 
 graver characters, atid which he could have easily corrected with 
 a very fezu blots, had he been master of his papers, for a year 
 or two before their publication. 
 
 Not that he would have governed his judgment by the ill- 
 placed cavils of the sour, the envious, the stupid, and the taste- 
 less, which he mentions with disdain. He acknowledges there 
 are several youthful sallies, which, from the grave and the 
 wise, may deserve a rebuke. But he desires to be answerable 
 no farther than he is guilty, and that his faults may not be 
 multiplied by the ignorant, the unnatural, and uncharitable 
 applications of those who have neither candour to suppose good 
 meanings, nor palate to distinguish true ones. After which, 
 he will forfeit his life, if any one opinion can be fairly deduced 
 from that book, which is contrary to Religion or Morality. 
 
 Why should any clergyman of our church be angry to see 
 the follies of fanaticism and superstition exposed, though in the 
 most ridiculous manner ; since that is perhaps the most pro- 
 bable way to cure them, or at least to hinder them from farther 
 spreading ? Besides, though it was not intended for their 
 perusal, it rallies nothing but what they preach against. It 
 contains nothing to provoke them, by the least scurrility upon 
 their persons or their functions. It celebrates the church of 
 England, as the most perfect of all others, in discipline and 
 doctrine ; it advances no opinion they reject, nor condemns any 
 they receive. If the clergy's resentment lay upon their hands, 
 in my humble opinion they might have found more proper 
 objects to employ them on : nondum tibi defuit hostis ; I mean 
 those heavy, illiterate scribblers, prostitute in their reputations, 
 vicious in their lives, and ruined in their fortunes, who, to the 
 shame of good sense as well as piety, are greedily read, merely 
 upon the strength of bold, false, impious assertions, mixed with 
 unmannerly reflections upon the priesthood, and openly intended 
 against all Religion ; in short, full of such principles as are 
 kindly received, because they are levelled to reinove those terrors, 
 that Religion tells men will be the consequence of immoral 
 
 1 Swift resided at Moor-park, in 1696 ; and unquestionably the com- 
 panion of Sir William Temple must be considered as "living in the 
 world." [S.]
 
 14 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 lives. Nothing like which is to be met with in this discourse, 
 though some of them are pleased so freely to censure it. And 
 I wish there were no other instance of what I have too 
 frequently observed, that many of that reverend body are not 
 always very nice in distinguishing between their enemies and 
 their friends. 
 
 Had the author's intentions met with a more candid inter- 
 p7'etation from some, whom out of respect he forbears to name, 
 he might have been encouraged to an examination of books 
 written by some of those authors above described, whose errors, 
 ignorance, dulness, and villainy, he thinks he could have detected 
 and exposed in such a manner, that the persons, who are most 
 conceived to be affected by them, would soon lay them aside and 
 be ashamed : But he has now given over those thoughts ; since 
 the weightiest men, in the weightiest stations, are pleased to 
 think it a more dangerous point to laugh at those corruptions 
 in Religion, which they themselves must disapprove, than to 
 endeavour pulling up those very foundations, wherein all 
 Christians have agreed. 
 
 He thinks it no fair proceeding, that any person should offer 
 determinately to fix a name upon the author of this discourse, 
 who hath all along concealed himself from most of his nearest 
 friends : Yet several have gone a farther step, and protwunced 
 Letter of another book to have been the work of the same 
 Enthusiasm, hand with this, which the author directly affirms 
 to be a thorough mistake ; l he having as yet never so much as 
 read that discourse ■ a plain instance how little truth there often 
 is in general surmises, or in conjectures drawn from a similitude 
 of style, or way of thinking. 
 
 Had the author written a book to expose the abuses in Law, 
 or i?i Physic, he believes the learned professors in either faculty 
 would have been so far from resenting it, as to have given him 
 thanks for his pains, especially if he had made an hotwurable 
 reservation for the true practice of either science. But Religion, 
 they tell us, ought not to be ridiculed ; and they tell us 
 truth : yet surely the corruptions in it may ; for we are taught 
 by the tritest maxim in the world, that Religion being the best 
 of things, Us corruptions are likely to be the worst. 
 
 1 The celebrated Letter on Enthusiasm, published in 1708 (see note 
 on p. 3). It appeared anonymously, but was included in vol. i of 
 Shaftesbury's "Characteristics," 171 1. [W. S. J.]
 
 AN APOLOGY. 1 5 
 
 There is one thing which the judicious reader cannot but have 
 observed, that some of those passages in this discourse, which 
 appear most liable to objection, are what they call parodies, 
 where the author personates the style and manner of other 
 writers, whom he has a mind to expose. I shall produce one 
 instance, it is in the $ist page. 1 Dryden, L Estrange, and 
 some others I shall not name, are here levelled at, who, having 
 spent their lives in faction, and apostacies, and all manner of 
 vice, pretended to be sufferers for Loyalty and Religion. So 
 Dryden tells us, in one of his prefaces, of his merits and 
 sufferings, and thanks God that he possesses his soul in 
 patience ; 2 In other places he talks at the same rate ; and 
 L Estrange often uses the like style ; and I believe the reader 
 may find more persons to give that passage an application : 
 But this is enough to direct those ivho may have overlooked the 
 author's intention. 
 
 There are three or four other passages, which prejudiced or 
 ignorant readers have drawn by great force to hint at ill 
 meanings ; as if they glanced at some tenets in religion. In 
 answer to all which, the author solemnly protests, he is 
 entirely innocent ; and never had it once in his thoughts, that 
 anything he said, would in the least be capable of such inter- 
 pretations, which he will engage to deduce full as fairly from 
 the most innocent book in the world. And it will be obvious 
 to every reader, that this was not any part of his scheme or 
 design, the abuses he notes being such as all Church-of- England 
 men agree in ; nor was it proper for his subject to meddle with 
 other points, than such as have been perpetually controverted 
 since the Reformation. 
 
 To instance only in that passage about the three wooden 
 machines, mentioned in the Introduction : In the original 
 manuscript there was a description of a fourth, which those 
 who had the papers in their power, blotted out, as having 
 something in it of satire, that I suppose they thought was too 
 
 1 P. 57 of this edition. [T. S.] 
 
 _ 2 In the Tale of a Tub, Dryden is repeatedly mentioned with great 
 disrespect, not only as a translator and original author, but a mean- 
 spirited sycophant of the great. The passage here alluded to occurs in 
 the Essay on Satire, which Dryden prefixed to his version of Juvenal. 
 The recollection of his contemned Odes still rankled in Swift's bosom, 
 though Dryden died four years before the publication of the Tale of a 
 Tub. [S.]
 
 l6 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 particular ; and therefore they were forced to change it to the 
 number Three, from ivhence some have endeavoured to squeeze 
 out a dangerous meaning, that was never thought on. And, 
 indeed, the conceit was half spoiled by changing the numbers ; 
 that of Four being much more cabalistic, and, therefore, better 
 exposing the pretended viiiue of Numbers, a super stitioti there 
 intended to be ridiculed. 
 
 Another thing to be observed is, that there generally runs an 
 irony through the thread of the whole book, which the men of 
 taste will observe and distinguish ; and which will render 
 some objections that have been made, very weak and insignificant. 
 
 This Apology being chiefly intended for the satisfaction of 
 future readers, it may be thought unnecessary to take any 
 notice of such treatises as have been written against this ensuing 
 discourse, which are already sunk into waste paper and 
 oblivion, after the usual fate of common answerers to books 
 which are allowed to have any merit : They are indeed like 
 annuals, that grow about a young tree, and seem to vie with it 
 for a summer, but fall and die with the leaves in autiwm, and 
 are never heard of any more. When Dr. Eachard 1 writ his 
 book about the Contempt of the Clergy, numbers of these 
 answerers immediately started up, whose memory, if he had 
 not kept alive by his replies, it would now be utterly unknown 
 that he were ever answered at all. There is indeed an excep- 
 tion, when any great genius thinks it worth his while to expose 
 a foolish piece ; so we still read MarvelVs Answer to Parker" 1 
 with pleasure, though the book it answers be sunk long ago : 
 so the Earl of Orrery's remarks will be read with delight, 
 when the Dissertation he exposes will neither be sought nor 
 found: 3 but these are no enterprizes for common hands, nor 
 
 1 John Eachard, D.D. (1636-1697), was Master of Catherine Hall, 
 Cambridge. The book referred to by Swift was published in 1670. 
 His attack on Hobbes in two dialogues is characterized by a delightful 
 humour. A fairly complete edition of his works was issued in 3 vols, 
 sm. 8vo. in 1774. [T. S.] 
 
 2 Parker, afterwards Bishop of Oxford, wrote many treatises against 
 the dissenters, with insolence and contempt, says Burnet, that enraged 
 them beyond measure ; for which he was chastised by Andrew Marvell, 
 in a book called "The Rehearsal Transprosed." [H.] 
 
 3 Boyle's "Dr. Bentley's Dissertations on the Epistles of Phalaris 
 and the Fables of Aesop, examin'd" (1698). [T. S.]
 
 AN APOLOGY. I 7 
 
 to be hoped for above once or twice in an age. Men would be 
 more cautious of losing their time in such an undertaking, if 
 they did but consider, that, to answer a book effectually, requires 
 more pains and skill, more wit, learning, and judgme?it, than 
 were e7tiployed in the writing of it. And the author assures 
 those gentlemen, who have given themselves that trouble with 
 him, that his discourse is the product of the study, the observa- 
 tion, and the invention of several years ; that he often blotted 
 out much more than he left, and if his papers had not been a 
 long time out of his possession, they must have still imdergone 
 more severe corrections : and do they think such a building is 
 to be battered with dirt-pellets, however envenomed the mouths 
 may be that discharge them ? He hath seen the productions but 
 of two answerers, one of which at first appeared as from an 
 unknown hand, but since avowed by a person? who, upon some 
 occasions, hath discovered no ill vein of Jmmour. 'Tis a pity 
 any occasion should put him under a necessity of being so hasty 
 in his productions, which, otherwise, might often be entertain- 
 ing. But there were other reasons obvious enough for his 
 miscarriage in this ; he writ against the conviction of his 
 talent, and entered upon one of the wrongest attempts in nature, 
 to turn into ridicule, by a week's labour, a work which had 
 cost so natch time, and met with so much success in ridiculing 
 others : the manner how he has handled his subject I have 
 now forgot, having just looked it over, when it first came out, 
 as others did, merely for the sake of the title. 2 
 
 1 Dr. William King (1663-1712), author of an answer to Lord 
 Molesworth's Account of Denmark. His burlesque on the Royal 
 Society, the " Transactioneer," and his "Journey to London," both 
 ironical pieces of merit, are better known works. He took a part in the 
 Bentley-Phalaris controversy, and wrote for the " Examiner " in 17 10. 
 In 1703 he went over to Ireland and filled several important official 
 positions, including that of Judge of the Admiralty. At Sacheverell's 
 trial he was one of that doctor's defenders. [T. S.] 
 
 2 A specimen of King's humour may entertain the reader: — "A 
 certain gentleman, that is the nearest to you of any person, was men- 
 tioned, upon supposition that the book had wit and learning in it ; 
 but when I had displayed it in its proper colours, I must do the 
 company that justice, that there was not one but acquitted you. That 
 matter being dispatched, every one was at their liberty of guessing. 
 One said, he believed it was a journeyman tailor, in Billeter-lane, that 
 was an idle sort of a fellow, and loved writing more than stitching, 
 that was the author ; his reason was, ' because he is so desirous to 
 
 I. C
 
 1 8 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 The other answer is from a person of a graver character, 
 and is made up of half invective, and half annotation ; x in 
 the latter of which, he hath generally succeeded well enough. 
 And the project at that time was not amiss to draw in readers 
 to his pamphlet, several having appeared desirous that there 
 might be some explication of the more difficult passages. 
 Neither can he be altogether blamed for offering at the invective 
 part, because it is agreed on all hands, that the author had 
 given him sufficient provocation. The great objection is against 
 his manner of treating it, very unsuitable to one of his function. 
 It was determined by a fair majority, that this answerer had, 
 in a way not to be pardo?ied, drawn his pen against a certain 
 
 mention his goose and his garret ; ' but it was answered, ' that he 
 was a member of the society ; ' and so he was excused. ' But why 
 then,' says another, ' since he makes such a parable upon coats, may 
 it not be Mr. Amy, the coat-seller, who is a poet and a wit?'_ To 
 which it was replied, that that gentleman's loss had been bewailed in an 
 elegy some years ago. * Why may it not be Mr. Gumly, the rag- 
 woman's husband, in Turnbull-street ? ' Says another, ' He is kept by 
 her, and having little to do, and having been an officer in Monmouth's 
 army, since the defeat at Sedgemore, has always been a violent Tory.' 
 But it was urged that his style was harsh, rough, and unpolished ; and 
 that he did not understand one word of Latin. 'Why, then,' cries 
 another, ' Oliver's porter had an amanuensis at Bedlam, that used to 
 transcribe what he dictated : and may not these be some scattered notes 
 of his master's?' To which all replied, that though Oliver's porter 
 was crazed, yet his misfortune never let him forget that he was a 
 Christian. One said, it was a surgeon's man, that had married a mid- 
 wife's nurse ; but though by the style it might seem probable that two 
 such persons had a hand in it ; yet, since he could not name the persons, 
 his fancy was rejected. ' I conjecture,' says another, ' that it may be a 
 
 lawyer, that ' When, on a sudden, he was interrupted by Mr. 
 
 Markland, the scrivener, ' No, rather, by the oaths, it should be an 
 Irish evidence.' At last there stood up a sprant young man, that is 
 secretary to a scavenger, and cried, ' What if, after all, it should be a 
 parson ! for who may make more free with their trade ? What if I know 
 him, describe him, name him, and how he and his friends talk of it, 
 admire it, are proud of it.'— 'Hold,' cry all the company; 'that 
 function must not be mentioned without respect. We have enough of 
 the dirty subject ; we had better drink our coffee, and talk our 
 politicks.' "—Remarks on the Tale of a Tub, apud Dr. King's Works, 
 1776, i. 217. 
 
 It must be remembered to Swift's honour, that this rude and malig- 
 nant criticism did not prevent his befriending King, when his intimacy 
 with Harley gave him an opportunity of conferring benefits. [S.] 
 
 1 Wotton's Defence of his Reflections upon Ancient and Modern 
 Learning, published in 1705. [T. S.]
 
 AN APOLOGY. 1 9 
 
 great man then alive, and universally reverenced for every good 
 quality that could possibly enter into the composition of the 
 most accomplished person ; it was observed how he was pleased, 
 and affected to have that noble xvriter called his adversary ; 
 and it was a point of satire well directed ; for I have been told 
 Sir W\illiani\ T[emple\ was sufficiently mortified at the term. 
 All the men of wit and politeness were immediately up in arms 
 through indignation, which prevailed over their contetnpt, by 
 the consequences they apprehended from such an example; and 
 it grew Porsenna' s case ; idem trecenti juravimus. In short, 
 things were ripe for a general insurrection, till my Lord 
 Orrery had a little laid the spirit, and settled the ferment. 
 But, his lordship being principally engaged with anothet 
 antagonist, 1 it was thought necessary, in order to quiet the 
 minds of men, that this opposer should receive a reprimand, 
 which partly occasioned that discourse of the Battle of the 
 Books ; and the author was farther at the pains to insert fine 
 or two remarks on him, in the body of the book. 
 
 This answerer has been pleased to find fault with about a 
 dozen passages, which the author will not be at the trouble of 
 defending, further than by assuring the reader, that, for the 
 greater part, the reflecter is entirely mistaken, and forces inter- 
 pretations which never once entered into the writer's head, nor 
 will he is sure into that of any reader of taste and candour ; 
 he allows two or three at most, there produced, to have been 
 delivered unwarily ; for which he desires to plead the excuse 
 offered already, of his youth, and frankness of speech, and his 
 papers being out of his power at the time they were published. 
 
 But this answerer insists, and says, what he chiefly dislikes, 
 is the design : what that was, I have already told, and J 
 believe there is not a person in England who can understand 
 that book, that ever imagined it to have been anything else, but 
 to expose the abuses and corruptions in Learning and Religion. 
 
 But it would be good to know what design this reflecter was 
 serving, when he concludes his pamphlet with a Caution to the 
 Reader to beware of thinking the author's wit was entirely his 
 own : surely this must have had some allay of personal ani- 
 mosity at least, mixed with the design of serving the public, by 
 so useful a discovery ; and it indeed touches the author in a 
 
 1 Bentley. [T. S.]
 
 20 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 tender point ; who insists upon it, thai through the whole book 
 he has not borrowed one single hint from any writer in the 
 world ; and he thought, of all criticisms, that would never 
 have been one. He conceived, it was fievtr disputed to be an 
 original, whatever faults it might have. Hovoever, this 
 answerer produces three instances to prove this author's wit is 
 not his own in tfiany places. The first is, that the names of 
 Peter, Martin, and Jack, are borrowed fro?n a letter of the 
 late Duke of Buckingham. Whatever wit is contained in 
 those three names, the author is content to give it up, and 
 desires his readers will subtract as much as they placed upon 
 thai account; at the same time protesting solemnly, that he 
 never once heard of that letter except in this passage of the 
 answerer : so that the names were not borrowed, as he affirms, 
 though they should happen to be the same ; which, however, is 
 odd enough, a fid what he hardly believes : that of Jack being 
 not quite so obvious as the other two. The second instance to 
 shew the author's wit is not his own, is Peter's banter (as he 
 calls it in his Alsatia phrase) upon Transubstantiation, which 
 is taken from the same duke's conference with an Irish priest, 
 where a cork is turned into a horse. This the author confesses 
 to have seen about ten years after his book was writ, and a 
 year or two after it 7oas published. Nay, the answerer over- 
 throws this himself ; for he allows the Tale was written in 
 1697 / and I think that pamphlet was not printed in many 
 years after. It was necessary that corruption should have 
 some allegory as well as the rest ; and the author invented the 
 properest he could, without inquiring what other people had 
 writte?i ; and the commonest reader will find, there is not the 
 least resemblance between the two stories. — The third instance 
 is in these words ; " I have been assured, that the battle in St. 
 James's Library is, mutatis mutandis, taken out of a French 
 book, entitled, Combat des Livres, 1 if I mis-remember not" 
 In which passage there are two clauses observable ; " / have 
 been assured ; " and, " if I mis-remember not." I desire first 
 to know whether, if that conjecture proves an utter falsehood, 
 those two clauses will be a sufficient excuse for this worthy 
 critic ? The matter is a trifle ; but, would he venture to pro- 
 
 1 "Histoire poetique de la guerre . . . entre les anciens et Ies 
 modernes " by Francois de Callieres, the diplomatist and Academician 
 (see Rigault, " Histoire de la Querelle des anciens et des modernes," 
 1856, p. 341, note 2). [W. S. J.]
 
 AN APOLOGY. 21 
 
 non nee at this rate upon one of greater moment ? I know 
 nothing more contemptible in a writer, than the character of a 
 plagiary, which he here fixes at a venture ; and this not for a 
 passage, but a whole discourse, taken out from another book, 
 only mutatis mutandis. The author is as much in the dark 
 about this as the answerer ; and will imitate him by an 
 affirmation at random ; that if there be a word of truth in 
 this reflection, he is a paltry, imitating pedant ; and the 
 answerer is a person of wit, manners, and truth. He takes 
 his boldness, from never having seen any such treatise in his 
 life, nor heard of it before ; and he is sure it is impossible for 
 two writers, of different times and countries, to agree in their 
 thoughts after such a manner, that two continued discourses 
 shall be the same, only mutatis mutandis. Neither will he 
 insist upon the mistake of the title, but let the answerer and 
 his friend produce any book they please, he defies them to shew 
 one single particular, where the judicious reader will affirm he 
 has been obliged for the smallest hint ; giving only allowance 
 for the accidental encountering of a single thought, which he 
 knows may sometimes happen ; though he has never yet found 
 it in that discourse, nor has heard it objected by anybody else. 
 
 So that, if ever any design was imfortunately executed, it 
 must be that of this ansiverer ; who, when he would have it 
 observed, that the author's wit is not his oiun, is able to pro- 
 duce but three instances, two of them mere trifles, and all three 
 manifestly false. If this be the way these gentlemen deal with 
 the world in those criticisms, where we have not leisure to 
 defeat them, their readers had need be cautious how they rely 
 upon their credit ; and whether this proceeding can be recon- 
 ciled to humanity or truth, let those who think it worth their 
 while determine. 
 
 It is agreed, this answerer would have succeeded much better, 
 if he had stuck wholly to his business, as a comtnentator upon 
 the Tale of a Tub, wherein it cannot be denied that he hath 
 been of some service to the public, and hath given very fair con- 
 jectures towards clearing up some difficult passages ; 1 but it is 
 the frequent error of those men, {otherwise very commendable 
 for their labours?) to make excursions beyond their talent and 
 their office, by pretending to point out the beauties and the 
 
 1 Which have been retained in all editions subsequent to the fifth. 
 [T. S.]
 
 22 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 faults ; which is no part of their trade, which they always fail 
 in, which the world never expected from them, nor gave them 
 any thanks for endeavouring at. The part of Minellius, or 
 Farnaby, 1 would have fallen in with his genius, and might 
 have been serviceable to many readers, who ca?inot enter into 
 the abstruser parts of that discourse ; but optat ephippia 
 bos piger : the dull, unwieldy, ill-shaped ox, would needs put 
 on the furniture of a horse, not considering he was born to 
 labour, to plough the ground for the sake of superior beings, 
 and that he has neither the shape, mettle, nor speed, of the 
 nobler animal he would affect to personate. 
 
 It is another pattern of this answerer's fair dealing, to give 
 us hints that the author is dead, and yet to lay the suspicion 
 upon somebody, I know not who, in the country ; to which can 
 only be returned, that he is absolutely mistaken in all his con- 
 jectures ; and surely conjectures are, at best, too light a 
 pretence to allow a man to assign a name in public. He 
 condemns a book, and consequently the author, of whom he is 
 utterly ignorant ; yet at the same time fixes, in print, what he 
 thinks a disadvantageous character upon those who never 
 deserved it. A man who receives a buffet in the dark, may be 
 allowed to be vexed; but it is an odd kind of revenge, to go to 
 cuffs in broad day with the first he meets with, and lay the last 
 night's injury at his door. And thus much for this discreet, 
 candid, pious, and ingenious answerer. 
 
 How the author came to be without his papers, is a story 
 not proper to be told, and of very little use, being a private fact 
 of which the reader would believe as little, or as much, as he 
 thought good. He had, however, a blotted copy by him, which 
 he intended to have writ over with many alterations, and this 
 the publishers were well aware of, having put it into the book- 
 seller's preface, that they apprehended a surreptitious copy, 
 which was to be altered, &c. This, though not regarded by 
 readers, was a real truth, only the surreptitious copy was 
 rather that which was printed ; and they made all haste they 
 could, which, indeed, was needless ; the author not being at all 
 prepared ; but he has been told the bookseller was in much 
 pain, having given a good sum of money for the copy. 
 
 1 Low commentators, who wrote notes upon classic authors for the 
 use of schoolboys. [H.]
 
 AN APOLOGY. 23 
 
 In the author's original copy there were not so many chasms 
 as appear in the book ; a?id why some of them were left, he 
 knows not ; had the publication been trusted to him, he would 
 have made several corrections of passages, against which nothing 
 hath been ever objected. He would likewise have altered a few 
 of those, that seem with any reason to be excepted against ; but, 
 to deal freely, the greatest number he should have left untouched, 
 as never suspecting it possible any wrong interpretations could 
 be made of them. 
 
 The author observes, at the end of the book, there is a dis- 
 course called A Fragment, which he more wondered to see in 
 print than all therest. Having been a most imperfect sketch, with 
 the addition of a few loose hints, which he once lent a gentleman, 
 who had designed a discourse on sometvhat the same subject ; 
 he never thought of it afterwards ; and it was a sufficient 
 surprise to see it pieced up together, wholly out of the 7iiethod 
 and scheme he had intended ; for it was the ground-work of a 
 much larger discourse; and he was sorry to observe the 
 materials so foolishly employed. 
 
 There is one farther objection made by those who have 
 answered this book, as well as by some others, that Peter is 
 frequently made to repeat oaths and curses. Every reader 
 observes, it was necessary to k?iow that Peter did swear and 
 curse. The oaths are not printed out, but only supposed ; and 
 the idea of an oath is not immoral, like the idea ofaprofane or 
 immodest speech. A man may laugh at the Popish folly of 
 cursing people to hell, and imagine them swearing, without any 
 crime ; but lewd words, or dangerous opinions, though printed 
 by halves, fill the reader's mind with ill ideas ; and of these the 
 author ca?inot be accused. For the judicious reader will find, 
 that the severest strokes of satire in his book are levelled against 
 the modern custom of employing wit upon those topics ; of 
 which there is a remarkable instance in the 153rd 1 page, as 
 well as in several ot/iers, though perhaps once or twice expressed 
 in too free a manner, excusable only for the reasons already 
 alleged. Some overtures have been made, by a third hand, to 
 the bookseller, for the author's altering those passages which he 
 thought might require it ; but it seems the bookseller will not 
 hear of any such thing, being apprehensive it might spoil the 
 sale of the book. 
 
 1 P. 104 of this edition. [T. S.]
 
 24 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 The author cannot conclude this apology without making this 
 one reflection ; that, as wit is the noblest and most useful gift 
 of human nature, so humour is the most agreeable ; and where 
 these two enter far into the composition of any work, they will 
 render it always acceptable to the world. Now, the great part 
 of those who have no share or taste of either, but by their pride, 
 pedantry, and ill manners, lay themselves bare to the lashes of 
 both, think the blow is weak, because they are insensible ; and, 
 where wit has any mixture of raillery, 'tis but calling it banter, 
 and the work is done. This polite word of theirs was first 
 borrowed from the bullies in White- Friars, then fell among 
 the footmen, and at last retired to the pedants ; by whom it is 
 applied as properly to the production of wit, as if I should 
 apply it to Sir Isaac Newton's mathematics. But, if this 
 bantering, as they call it, be so despisable a thing, whence comes 
 it to pass they have such a perpetual itch towards it themselves ? 
 To instance only in the answerer already mentioned: it is 
 grievous to see him, in some of his writings, at every turn going 
 out of his way to be waggish, to tell us of a cow that pricked 
 up her tail 1 ; and in his answer to this discourse, he says, it is 
 all a farce and a ladle 2 ; with other passages equally shifting. 
 One may say of these impedimenta literarum, that wit owes 
 them a shame ; and they cannot take wiser counsel than to keep 
 out of harm's way, or, at least, not to come till they are sure 
 they are called. 
 
 To conclude : with those allowances above required, this book 
 should be read ; after which, the author conceives, few things 
 will remain which may not be excused in a young writer. He 
 wrote only to the men of wit and taste ; and he thinks he is 
 not mistaken in his accounts, when he says they have^ been all 
 of his side, enough to give him the vanity of telling his name; 
 wherein the world, with all its wise conjectures, is yet very 
 much in the dark; which circumstance is no disagreeable 
 amusement either to the public or himself. 
 
 The author is informed, that the bookseller has prevailed on 
 several gentlemen to write some explanatory notes; for the 
 goodness of which he is not to answer, having never seen any 
 of them, nor intends it, till they appear in print ; when it is 
 not unlikely he may have the pleasure to find twenty meanings 
 which never entered into his imagination. 
 
 June 3, 1709. 
 
 1 Wotton's "Reflections" (1694), p. 101. [W. S. J.] 
 
 2 Wotton's "Defense" (1705), p. 57- [W. S. J.]
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Since the writing of this, which was about a year ago, a 
 prostitute bookseller ' has published a foolish paper, under the 
 name of Notes on the Tale of a Tub, with some account of the 
 author: and, with an insolence which, I suppose, is punishable 
 by law, hath presumed to assign certain names. It will be 
 enough for the author to assure the world, that the ivriter of 
 that paper is utterly vurong in all his conjectures upo?i that 
 affair. The author farther asserts, that the whole work is 
 entirely op one hand, which every reader of judgment will easily 
 discover. The gentleman who gave the copy to the bookseller, 
 being a friend of the author, and using no other liberties besides 
 that of expunging certain passages, where now the chasms 
 appear under the name <?/" desiderata. But, if any person will 
 prove his claim to three lines in the whole book, let him step 
 forth, and tell his name and titles ; upon which, the bookseller 
 shall have orders to prefix them to the next edition, and the 
 claimant shall from henceforward be acknowledged the un- 
 disputed author. 
 
 1 The bookseller referred to was Edmund Curll, who was lampooned 
 by Pope in the " Dunciad." His publications were largely made up of 
 forgeries and libels, for which they are now much sought after. In 1710 
 he issued an edition of Swift's " Meditation upon a Broomstick," which 
 contained also the " Baucis and Philemon," but the work was issued, of 
 course, entirely on his own responsibility. He had his ears cut off for 
 publishing " The Nun in her Smock." He died in 1748. [T. S.]
 
 TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 JOHN LORD SOMERS. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 THO' the author has written a large Dedication, yet 
 that being addressed to a prince, whom I am never 
 likely to have the honour of being known to ; a person 
 besides, as far as I can observe, not at all regarded, or 
 thought on by any of our present writers ; and being wholly 
 free from that slavery which booksellers usually lie under, to 
 the caprices of authors ; I think it a wise piece of presump- 
 tion to inscribe these papers to your Lordship, and to 
 implore your Lordship's protection of them. God and your 
 Lordship know their faults and their merits ; for, as to my 
 own particular, I am altogether a stranger to the matter ; 
 and though everybody else should be equally ignorant, I do 
 not fear the sale of the book, at all the worse, upon that 
 score. Your Lordship's name on the front in capital letters 
 will at any time get off one edition : neither would I desire 
 any other help to grow an alderman, than a patent for the 
 sole privilege of dedicating to your Lordship. 
 
 I should now, in right of a dedicator, give your Lordship 
 a list of your own virtues, and, at the same time, be very 
 unwilling to offend your modesty; but chiefly, I should 
 celebrate your liberality towards men of great parts and 
 small fortunes, and give you broad hints that I mean myself. 
 And I was just going on, in the usual method, to peruse a 
 hundred or two of dedications, and transcribe an abstract to 
 be applied to your Lordship ; but I was diverted by a certain 
 accident. For, upon the covers of these papers, I casually 
 observed written in large letters the two following words,
 
 DEDICATION TO LORD SOMERS. 2J 
 
 DETUR DIGNISSIMO ; which, for aught I knew, might 
 contain some important meaning. But it unluckily fell out, 
 that none of the authors I employ understood Latin ; 
 (though I have them often in pay to translate out of that 
 language ;) I was therefore compelled to have recourse to 
 the curate of our parish, who englished it thus, Let it be given 
 to the worthiest : and his comment was, that the author 
 meant his work should be dedicated to the sublimest genius 
 of the age for wit, learning, judgment, eloquence, and 
 wisdom. I called at a poet's chamber (who works for my 
 shop) in an alley hard by, shewed him the translation, and 
 desired his opinion, who it was that the author could mean : 
 he told me, after some consideration, that vanity was a thing 
 he abhorred ; but, by the description, he thought himself to 
 be the person aimed at ; and, at the same time, he very 
 kindly offered his own assistance^ra/w towards penning a dedi- 
 cation to himself. I desired him, however, to give a second 
 guess. Why, then, said he, it must be I, or my Lord Somers. 
 From thence I went to several other wits of my acquaintance, 
 with no small hazard and weariness to my person, from a 
 prodigious number of dark, winding stairs ; but found them 
 all in the same story, both of your Lordship and themselves. 
 Now, your Lordship is to understand, that this proceeding 
 was not of my own invention ; for I have somewhere heard 
 it is a maxim, that those to whom everybody allows the 
 second place, have an undoubted title to the first. 
 
 This infallibly convinced me, that your Lordship was the 
 person intended by the author. But, being very un- 
 acquainted in the style and form of dedications, I employed 
 those wits aforesaid to furnish me with hints and materials, 
 towards a panegyric upon your Lordship's virtues. 
 
 In two days they brought me ten sheets of paper, filled 
 up on every side. They swore to me, that they had ran- 
 sacked whatever could be found in the characters of Socrates, 
 Aristides, Efiaminondas, Cato, Tully, Atticus, and other hard 
 names, which I cannot now recollect. However, I have 
 reason to believe, they imposed upon my ignorance; because, 
 when I came to read over their collections, there was not a 
 syllable there, but what I and everybody else knew as well 
 as themselves : Therefore I grievously suspect a cheat ; and 
 that these authors of mine stole and transcribed every word,
 
 28 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 from the universal report of mankind. So that I look upon 
 myself as fifty shillings out of pocket, to no manner of 
 purpose. 
 
 If, by altering the title, I could make the same materials 
 serve for another Dedication, (as my betters have done,) it 
 would help to make up my loss ; but I have made several 
 persons dip here and there in those papers, and before they 
 read three lines, they have all assured me plainly, that they 
 cannot possibly be applied to any person besides your 
 Lordship. 
 
 I expected, indeed, to have heard of your Lordship's 
 bravery at the head of an army ; of your undaunted courage 
 in mounting a breach, or scaling a wall ; or, to have had 
 your pedigree traced in a lineal descent from the house of 
 Austria ; or, of your wonderful talent at dress and dancing ; 
 or, your profound knowledge in algebra, metaphysics, and 
 the oriental tongues. But to ply the world with an old 
 beaten story of your wit, and eloquence, and learning, and 
 wisdom, and justice, and politeness, and candour, and 
 evenness of temper in all scenes of life ; of that great dis- 
 cernment in discovering, and readiness in favouring deserv- 
 ing men ; with forty other common topics ; I confess, I have 
 neither conscience nor countenance to do it. Because 
 there is no virtue, either of a public or private life, which 
 some circumstances of your own have not often produced 
 upon the stage of the world ; and those few, which, for want 
 of occasions to exert them, might otherwise have passed 
 unseen, or unobserved, by your friends, your enemies have at 
 length brought to light. 
 
 Tis true, I should be very loth, the bright example of 
 your Lordship's virtues should be lost to after-ages, both for 
 their sake and your own ; but chiefly because they will be so 
 very necessary to adorn the history of a late reign ; l and 
 that is another reason why I would forbear to make a recital 
 of them here ; because I have been told by wise men, that, 
 as Dedications have run for some years past, a good 
 historian will not be apt to have recourse thither in search of 
 characters. 
 
 1 King William's, whose memory he defended in the House of Lords 
 against some invidious reflections of the Earl of Nottingham. [H.]
 
 DEDICATION TO LORD SOMERS. 29 
 
 There is one point, wherein I think we dedicators would 
 do well to change our measures ; I mean, instead of running 
 on so far upon the praise of our patrons' liberality, to spend 
 a word or two in admiring their patience. I can put no 
 greater compliment on your Lordship's, than by giving you 
 so ample an occasion to exercise it at present. — Though 
 perhaps I shall not be apt to reckon much merit to your 
 Lordship upon that score, who having been formerly used 
 to tedious harangues, and sometimes to as little purpose, 
 will be the readier to pardon this; especially, when it is 
 offered by one, who is with all respect and veneration, 
 My Lord, 1 
 
 Your Lordship's most obedient, 
 
 And most faithful servant, 
 
 The Bookseller." 
 
 1 John, Lord Somers, was born March 4, 1650. He early distin- 
 guished himself on the question of the abdication of the throne, shortly 
 after his election to the Convention Parliament, in 1688. He held suc- 
 cessively the offices of Solicitor and Attorney-General, and in 1693 was 
 appointed Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. Advancement quickly fol- 
 lowed on advancement, and in a few years he was raised to the peerage 
 and made Lord Chancellor. The disgraceful quarrels which divided 
 the two Houses in 1701 reached their climax in the Commons im- 
 peaching four Whig ministers, upon whom the blame of the Partition 
 Treaties was laid. Among these was Somers. It was to bring about 
 an understanding, and, possibly, to help Somers, that Swift wrote his 
 first political pamphlet, the "Contests and Dissensions between the 
 Nobles and the Commons in Athens and Rome." Previous to his im- 
 peachment, in 1700, Somers had been deprived of the seals, but after 
 his acquittal he was again taken into favour. To him is largely due 
 the union of England and Scotland. Although he was made president 
 of the council in 1708, yet two years later he retired into private life, 
 and devoted himself to literary pursuits. He died in 17 16, remaining 
 to the last a warm patron of literature and of men of letters. [T. S.] 
 
 2 The bookseller in whose person Swift writes this dedication was, of 
 course, John Nutt. [T. S.]
 
 The BOOKSELLER to the READER. 
 
 /T is now six years since these papers came first to my hand, 
 which seems to have been about a twelvemonth after they 
 were writ ; for the author tells us in his preface to the first 
 treatise, that he has calculated it for the year 1697, and in 
 several passages of that Discourse, as well as the second, it 
 appears they were written about that time. 
 
 As to the author, I can give no manner of satisfaction; 
 however, I am credibly informed, that this publication is with- 
 out his knowledge ; for he concludes the copy is lost, having 
 lent it to a person, since dead, and being never in possession of 
 it after ; so that, whether the work received his last hand, or 
 whether he intended to fill up the defective places, is like to 
 remain a secret. 
 
 If I should go about to tell the reader, by what accident I 
 became master of these papers, it would, in this unbelieving 
 age, pass for little more than the cant or jargon of the trade. 
 I therefore gladly spare both him and myself so unnecessary a 
 trouble. There yet remains a difficult question, why I pub- 
 lished them no sooner. I forbore upon two accounts ; first, 
 because I thought I had better work upon my hands ; and 
 secondly, because I was not without some hope of hearing from 
 the author, a?id receiving his directions. But I have been 
 lately alarmed with intelligence of a surreptitious copy, which 
 a certain great wit had new polished and refined, or, as our 
 present writers express themselves, fitted to the humour of the 
 age ; as they have already done, with great felicity, to Don 
 Quixote, Boccalini, la Bruyere, and other authors. However, 
 I thought it fairer dealing to offer the whole work in its 
 naturals. If any gentleman will please to furnish me with a 
 key, in order to explain the more difficult parts, I shall very 
 gratefully acknowledge the favour, and print it by itself. 
 
 3 1
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY, 
 
 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 PRINCE POSTERITY. 1 
 
 Sir, 
 
 I HERE present Your Highness with the fruits of a very 
 few leisure hours, stolen from the short intervals of a world 
 of business, and of an employment quite alien from such 
 amusements as this ; the poor production of that refuse of 
 time, which has lain heavy upon my hands, during a long 
 prorogation of parliament, a great dearth of foreign news, and 
 a tedious fit of rainy weather ; for which, and other reasons, 
 it cannot choose extremely to deserve such a patronage as 
 that of Your Highness, whose numberless virtues, in so few 
 years, make the world look upon you as the future example 
 to all princes ; for although Your Highness is hardly got clear 
 of infancy, yet has the universal learned world already resolved 
 upon appealing to your future dictates, with the lowest and 
 most resigned submission; fate having decreed you sole 
 arbiter of the productions of human wit, in this polite and 
 most accomplished age. Methinks, the number of appellants 
 were enough to shock and startle any judge, of a genius less 
 unlimited than yours : but, in order to prevent such glorious 
 trials, the person (it seems) to whose care the education of 
 
 1 The Citation out of Irenaeus in the title-page, which seems to be all 
 gibberish, is a form of initiation used antiently by the Marcosian Heretics. 
 — W. Wotton. 
 
 It is the usual style of decried writers to appeal to Posterity, who is 
 here represented as a prince in his nonage, and Time as his governor ; and 
 the author begins in a way very frequent with him, by personating other 
 writers, who sometimes offer such reasons and excuses for publishing 
 their works, as they ought chiefly to conceal and be ashamed of. 
 I. D
 
 34 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Your Highness is committed, 1 has resolved (as I am told) to 
 keep you in almost a universal ignorance of our studies, 
 which it is your inherent birth-right to inspect. 
 
 It is amazing to me, that this person should have assurance, 
 in the face of the sun, to go about persuading Your Highness, 
 that our age is almost wholly illiterate, and has hardly produced 
 one writer upon any subject. I know very well, that when 
 Your Highness shall come to riper years, and have gone 
 through the learning of antiquity, you will be too curious, to 
 neglect inquiring into the authors of the very age before you : 
 and to think that this insolent, in the account he is preparing 
 for your view, designs to reduce them to a number so 
 insignificant as I am ashamed to mention ; it moves my zeal 
 and my spleen for the honour and interest of our vast flourish- 
 ing body, as well as of myself, for whom, I know by long ex- 
 perience, he has professed, and still continues, a peculiar 
 malice. 
 
 'Tis not unlikely, that, when Your Highness will one day 
 peruse what I am now writing, you may be ready to expostu- 
 late with your governor, upon the credit of what I here affirm, 
 and command him to shew you some of our productions. 
 To which he will answer, (for I am well informed of his 
 designs,) by asking Your Highness, where they are? and 
 what is become of them? and pretend it a demonstration 
 that there never were any, because they are not then to be 
 found. Not to be found ! Who has mislaid them ? Are 
 they sunk in the abyss of things ? 'Tis certain, that in their 
 own nature, they were light enough to swim upon the surface 
 for all eternity. Therefore the fault is in him, who tied 
 weights so heavy to their heels, as to depress them to the 
 centre. Is their very essence destroyed ? Who has annihilated 
 them ? Were they drowned by purges, or martyred by pipes ? 
 
 Who administered them to the posteriors of ? But, 
 
 that it may no longer be a doubt with Your Highness, who 
 is to be the author of this universal ruin, I beseech you to 
 observe that large and terrible scythe which your governor 
 affects to bear continually about him. Be pleased to remark 
 the length and strength, the sharpness and hardness, of his 
 nails and teeth : consider his baneful, abominable breath, 
 
 1 Time, allegorically described as the tutor of Posterity. [S.]
 
 DEDICATION TO PRINCE POSTERITY. 35 
 
 enemy to life and matter, infectious and corrupting : and then 
 reflect, whether it be possible, for any mortal ink and paper 
 of this generation, to make a suitable resistance. O ! that 
 Your Highness would one day resolve to disarm this usurp- 
 ing maitre du palais ' of his furious engines, and bring your 
 empire hors de page? 
 
 It were endless to recount the several methods of tyranny 
 and destruction, which your governor is pleased to practise 
 upon this occasion. His inveterate malice is such to the 
 writings of our age, that of several thousands produced yearly 
 from this renowned city, before the next revolution of the 
 sun, there is not one to be heard of : Unhappy infants ! many 
 of them barbarously destroyed, before they have so much as 
 learnt their mother tongue to beg for pity. Some he stifles 
 in their cradles ; others he frights into convulsions, whereof 
 they suddenly die; some he flays alive; others he tears 
 limb from limb. Great numbers are offered to Moloch; and the 
 rest, tainted by his breath, die of a languishing consumption. 
 
 But the concern I have most at heart, is for our corpora- 
 tion of poets ; from whom I am preparing a petition to Your 
 Highness, to be subscribed with the names of one hundred 
 and thirty-six of the first rate; but whose immortal productions 
 are never likely to reach your eyes, though each of them is 
 now an humble and earnest appellant for the laurel, and has 
 large comely volumes ready to shew, for a support to his 
 pretensions. The never-dying works of these illustrious per- 
 sons, your governor, sir, has devoted to unavoidable death ; 
 and Your Highness is to be made believe, that our age has 
 never arrived at the honour to produce one single poet. 
 
 We confess Immortalityto be a great and powerful goddess; 
 but in vain we offer up to her our devotions and our sacrifices, 
 if Your Highness's governor, who has usurped the priesthood, 
 must, by an unparalleled ambition and avarice, wholly inter- 
 cept and devour them. 
 
 To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned, and devoid 
 
 1 Comptroller. The kingdom of France had a race of kings, which 
 they call les roys faincans, (from their doing nothing,) who lived lazily 
 in their apartments, while the kingdom was administered by the mayor 
 de palais, till Charles Martell, the last mayor, put his master to death, 
 and took the kingdom into his own hand. [H.] 
 
 2 Out of guardianship.
 
 36 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 of writers in any kind, seems to be an assertion so bold and 
 so false, that I have been some time thinking, the contrary 
 may almost be proved by uncontrollable demonstration. Tis 
 true, indeed, that although their numbers be vast, and their 
 productions numerous in proportion, yet are they hurried so 
 hastily off the scene, that they escape our memory, and elude 
 our sight. When I first thought of this address, I had pre- 
 pared a copious list of titles to present Your Highness, as an 
 undisputed argument for what I affirm. The originals were 
 posted fresh upon all gates and corners of streets ; but, re- 
 turning in a very few hours to take a review, they were all 
 torn down, and fresh ones in their places. I inquired aftci 
 them among readers and booksellers; but I inquired in vain; 
 the memorial of them was lost among men ; their place was no 
 more to befoimd; and I was laughed to scorn for a clown and 
 a pedant, without all taste and refinement, little versed in the 
 course of present affairs, and that knew nothing of what had 
 passed in the best companies of court and town. So that ] 
 can only avow in general to Your Highness, that we do 
 abound in learning and wit ; but to fix upon particulars, is a 
 task too slippery for my slender abilities. If I should venture 
 in a windy day to affirm to Your Highness, that there is a 
 large cloud near the horizon, in the form of a bear ; another 
 in the zenith, with the head of an ass ; a third to the west- 
 ward, with claws like a dragon ; and Your Highness should 
 in a few minutes think fit to examine the truth, it is certain 
 they would all be changed in figure and position : new ones 
 would arise, and all we could agree upon would be, that 
 clouds there were, but that I was grossly mistaken in the 
 zoography and topography of them. 
 
 But your governor perhaps may still insist, and put the 
 question, — What is then become of those immense bales of 
 paper, which must needs have been employed in such num- 
 bers of books ? Can these also be wholly annihilate, and so 
 of a sudden, as I pretend ? What shall I say in return of so 
 invidious an objection ? It ill befits the distance between 
 Your Highness and me, to send you for ocular conviction to 
 a jakes, or an oven ; to the windows of a bawdy-house, or to 
 a sordid lantern. Books, like men their authors, have no 
 more than one way of coming into the world, but there are 
 ten thousand to go out of it, and return no more.
 
 DEDICATION TO PRINCE POSTERITY. 37 
 
 I profess to Your Highness, in the integrity of my heart, 
 that what I am going to say is literally true this minute I am 
 writing : what revolutions may happen before it shall be 
 ready for your perusal, I can by no means warrant : however, 
 I beg you to accept it as a specimen of our learning, our 
 politeness, and our wit. I do therefore affirm, upon the word 
 of a sincere man, that there is now actually in being a certain 
 poet, called John Dryden, whose translation of Virgil was 
 lately printed ' in a large folio, well bound, and, if diligent 
 search were made, for aught I know, is yet to be seen. 
 There is another, called Nahum Tate, 2 who is ready to make 
 oath, that he has caused many reams of verse to be pub- 
 lished, whereof both himself and his bookseller, (if lawfully 
 required,) can still produce authentic copies, and therefore 
 wonders why the world is pleased to make such a secret of 
 it. There is a third, known by the name of Tom Durfey, 3 a 
 poet of a vast comprehension, an universal genius, and most 
 profound learning. There are also one Mr. Rymer, 4 and one 
 Mr. Dennis, 5 most profound critics. There is a person styled 
 Dr. B — tl-y, who has written near a thousand pages of im- 
 mense erudition, giving a full and true account of a certain 
 squabble, of wonderful importance, between himself and a 
 bookseller : He is a writer of infinite wit and humour ; no 
 man rallies with a better grace, and in more sprightly turns 
 
 1 Dryden published his translation of Virgfl in 1697, about five months 
 before Swift would have us believe he wrote this Dedication. [T. S.] 
 
 2 Nahum Tate (1652-1715) assisted Dryden in the composition of 
 some of his works, especially the "Absalom and Achitophel." He is 
 best known for his metrical version of the Psalms. [T. S.] 
 
 ° Tom Durfey or D'Urfey, was the author of " Wit and Mirth, or 
 Pills to Purge Melancholy," a collection of ballads which kept the town 
 alive, and which is even now much appreciated by not a few. He died 
 in February, 1722-23. [T. S.] 
 
 4 Thomas Rymer (1638-1713) was historiographer in 1692, and in 
 that capacity compiled the great folios of the " Fcedera," of which he 
 lived to edit fifteen. Swift, in including him with Wotton and Bentley, 
 refers to the pamphlets Rymer wrote against the Christ Church wits in 
 controversy about Ancient and Modern Learning. [T. S.] 
 
 6 _ John Dennis (1657-1733), poet and dramatist, wrote some plays 
 which had more than the average success. In particular, his "Liberty 
 Asserted, "on account of its severe strictures on the French people, made 
 a great hit. Dennis, however, is now known more for his intemperate 
 criticisms, which caused him to be the object of the satire of the wits of 
 his day. [T. S.l
 
 38 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Farther, I avow to Your Highness, that with these eyes 
 I have beheld the person of William W-tt-n, B.D., who has 
 written a good sizeable volume against a friend of your 
 governor, 1 (from whom, alas ! he must therefore look for 
 little favour,) in a most gentlemanly style, adorned with the 
 utmost politeness and civility; replete with discoveries equally 
 valuable for their novelty and use ; and embellished with 
 traits of wit, so poignant and so apposite, that he is a worthy 
 yokemate to his forementioned friend. 
 
 Why should I go upon farther particulars, which might 
 fill a volume with the just eulogies of my contemporary 
 brethren ? I shall bequeath this piece of justice to a larger 
 work, wherein I intend to write a character of the present set 
 of wits in our nation : their persons I shall describe parti- 
 cularly and at length, their genius and understandings in 
 miniature. 
 
 In the meantime, I do here make bold to present Your 
 Highness with a faithful abstract, drawn from the universal 
 body of all arts and sciences, intended wholly for your 
 service and instruction. Nor do I doubt in the least, but 
 Your Highness will peruse it as carefully, and make as con- 
 siderable improvements, as other young princes have already 
 done, by the many volumes of late years written for a help 
 to their studies. 2 
 
 That Your Highness may advance in wisdom and virtue, 
 as well as years, and at last outshine all your royal ancestors, 
 shall be the daily prayer of, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Your Highness' 's, 
 
 Most devoted, &*c. 
 
 Decemb. 1697. 
 
 1 Sir William Temple, whose praise of Phalaris's Epistles brought on 
 him Bentley's criticisms which appeared in the second edition of Wotton's 
 " Reflections on Ancient and Modern Learning." [T. S.] 
 
 2 There were innumerable books printed for the use of the Dauphin 
 of France. [H.]
 
 THE PREFACE. 
 
 THE wits of the present age being so very numerous and 
 penetrating, it seems the grandees of Church and State 
 begin to fall under horrible apprehensions, lest these gentle- 
 men, during the intervals of a long peace, should find leisure 
 to pick holes in the weak sides of Religion and Government. 
 To prevent which, there has been much thought employed of 
 late, upon certain projects for taking off the force and edge of 
 those formidable enquirers, from canvassing and reasoning 
 upon such delicate points. They have at length fixed upon 
 one, which will require some time as well as cost to perfect. 
 Meanwhile, the danger hourly increasing, by new levies of 
 wits, all appointed (as there is reason to fear) with pen, ink, 
 and paper, which may, at an hour's warning, be drawn out 
 into pamphlets, and other offensive weapons, ready for 
 immediate execution, it was judged of absolute necessity, 
 that some present expedient be thought on, till the main 
 design can be brought to maturity. To this end, at a 
 Grand Committee some days ago, this important discovery 
 was made by a certain curious and refined observer — that 
 seamen have a custom, when they meet a whale, to fling him 
 out an empty tub ' by way of amusement, to divert him from 
 laying violent hands upon the ship. This parable was 
 immediately mythologised ; the whale was interpreted to be 
 Hobbes's Leviathan, which tosses and plays with all schemes 
 of Religion and Government, whereof a great many are 
 hollow, and dry, and empty, and noisy, and wooden, and 
 given to rotation : this is the Leviathan, whence the terrible 
 wits of our age are said to borrow their weapons. The ship 
 in danger is easily understood to be its old antitype, the 
 Commonwealth. But how to analyze the tub, was a matter 
 of difficulty ; when, after long enquiry and debate, the literal 
 meaning was preserved ; and it was decreed, that, in order 
 to prevent these Leviathans from tossing and sporting with 
 
 1 Dr. A. W. Ward, in his " History of English Dramatic Literature" 
 (1899), v °l- ii) P- 379> comments on Ben Jonson's " A Tale of a Tub" 
 (acted in 1633), and says the title was " proverbial long before the time 
 of Ben Jonson," quoting "The Proverbs of John Heywood" (1546). 
 It also occurs in Bale's "Three Laws," act ii (1538). [W. S. J.]
 
 40 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 the Commonwealth (which of itself is too apt to fluctuate) 
 they should be diverted from that game by a Tale of a Tub} 
 And, my genius being conceived to lie not unhappily that 
 way, I had the honour done me to be engaged in the per- 
 formance. 
 
 This is the sole design in publishing the following treatise, 
 which I hope will serve for an interim of some months to 
 employ those unquiet spirits, till the perfecting of that great 
 work ; into the secret of which, it is reasonable the courteous 
 reader should have some little light. 
 
 It is intended, that a large Academy be erected, capable 
 of containing nine thousand seven hundred forty and three 
 persons ; which, by modest computation, is reckoned to be 
 pretty near the current number of wits in this island. These 
 are to be disposed into the several schools of this academy, 
 and there pursue those studies to which their genius most 
 inclines them. The undertaker himself will publish his pro- 
 posals with all convenient speed ; to which I shall refer the 
 curious reader for a more particular account, mentioning at 
 present only a few of the principal schools. There is, first, a 
 large Psederastic School, with French and Italian masters. 
 There is also the Spelling School, a very spacious building : 
 the School of Looking-glasses : the School of Swearing : the 
 School of Critics : the School of Salivation : the School of 
 Hobby-horses : the School of Poetry : the School of Tops : 
 the School of Spleen : the School of Gaming : with many 
 others, too tedious to recount. No person to be admitted 
 member into any of these schools, without an attestation 
 under two sufficient persons' hands, certifying him to be a wit. 
 
 But, to return : I am sufficiently instructed in the principal 
 duty of a preface, if my genius were capable of arriving at it. 
 Thrice have I forced my imagination to make the tour of my 
 invention, and thrice it has returned empty ; the latter having 
 been wholly drained by the following treatise. Not so, my 
 more successful brethren the moderns ; who will by no 
 means let slip a preface or dedication, without some notable 
 
 1 Swift, although he had a great respect for Hobbes's genius, and 
 indeed shows in his own writings a strong intellectual kinship with that 
 vigorous thinker, could not overlook Hobbes's attack on religion and 
 his view of absolute government. The " Leviathan " was published in 
 1651. [T. S.]
 
 THE PREFACE. 41 
 
 distinguishing stroke to surprise the reader at the entry, and 
 kindle a wonderful expectation of what is to ensue. Such 
 was that of a most ingenious poet, who, soliciting his brain 
 for something new, compared himself to the hangman, and 
 his patron to the patient : this was insigne, recens, indictum 
 ore alio. 1 When I went through that necessary and noble 
 course of study, 2 1 had the happiness to observe many such 
 egregious touches, which I shall not injure the authors by 
 transplanting : because I have remarked, that nothing is so 
 very tender as a modern piece of wit, and which is apt to 
 suffer so much in the carriage. Some things are extremely 
 witty to-day, or fasting, or in this place, or at eight o'clock, 
 or over a bottle, or spoke by Mr. What'd'y'caH'm, or in a 
 summer's morning : any of the which, by the smallest trans- 
 posal or misapplication, is utterly annihilate. Thus, wit has 
 its walks and purlieus, out of which it may not stray the 
 breadth of a hair, upon peril of being lost. The moderns 
 have artfully fixed this mercury, and reduced it to the cir- 
 cumstances of time, place, and person. Such a jest there is, 
 that will not pass out of Covent-Garden ; and such a one, 
 that is nowhere intelligible but at Hyde-Park corner. Now, 
 though it sometimes tenderly affects me to consider, that all 
 the towardly passages I shall deliver in the following treatise, 
 will grow quite out of date and relish with the first shifting 
 of the present scene, yet I must needs subscribe to the 
 justice of this proceeding : because, I cannot imagine why 
 we should be at the expense to furnish wit for succeeding 
 ages, when the former have made no sort of provision for 
 ours : wherein I speak the sentiment of the very newest, 
 and consequently the most orthodox refiners, as well as my 
 own. However, being extremely solicitous, that every ac- 
 complished person, who has got into the taste of wit cal- 
 culated for this present month of August, 1697, should 
 descend to the very bottom of all the sublime, throughout 
 this treatise ; I hold fit to lay down this general maxim : 
 whatever reader desires to have a thorough comprehension 
 of an author's thoughts, cannot take a better method, than 
 by putting himself into the circumstances and postures of 
 
 1 Horace [Odes, iii, 25, 8]. Something extraordinary, new and never 
 hit upon before. 
 
 2 Reading Prefaces, &c.
 
 42 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 life, that the writer was in upon every important passage, as 
 it flowed from his pen : For this will introduce a parity, and 
 strict correspondence of ideas, between the reader and the 
 author. Now, to assist the diligent reader in so delicate an 
 affair, as far as brevity will permit, I have recollected, that 
 the shrewdest pieces of this treatise were conceived in bed 
 in a garret ; at other times (for a reason best known to my- 
 self) I thought fit to sharpen my invention with hunger ; and 
 in general, the whole work was begun, continued, and ended, 
 under a long course of physic, and a great want of money. 
 Now, I do affirm, it will be absolutely impossible for the 
 candid peruser to go along with me in a great many bright 
 passages, unless, upon the several difficulties emergent, he 
 will please to capacitate and prepare himself by these 
 directions. And this I lay down as my principal pos- 
 tidatum. 
 
 Because I have professed to be a most devoted servant 
 of all modern forms, I apprehend some curious wit may 
 object against me, for proceeding thus far in a preface, 
 without declaiming, according to the custom, against the 
 multitude of writers, whereof the whole multitude of writers 
 most reasonably complains. I am just come from perusing 
 some hundreds of prefaces, wherein the authors do, at the 
 very beginning, address the gentle reader concerning this 
 enormous grievance. Of these I have preserved a few 
 examples, and shall set them down as near as my memory 
 has been able to retain them. 
 
 One begins thus : 
 For a man to set up for a writer, when the press swarms 
 with, &c. 
 
 Another : 
 The tax upon paper does not lessen the number of scribblers, 
 who daily pester, &c. 
 Another : 
 When every little would-be wit takes pen in hand, His in vain 
 to etitcr the lists, &c. 
 Another : 
 To observe what trash the press swarms with, &c. 
 
 Another : 
 Sir, It is merely in obedience to yout commands, that I
 
 THE PREFACE. 43 
 
 venture into the public ; for who upon a less consideration 
 would be of a party with such a rabble of scribblers, &c. 
 
 Now, I have two words in my own defence against this 
 objection. First, I am far from granting the number of 
 writers a nuisance to our nation, having strenuously main- 
 tained the contrary, in several parts of the following Dis- 
 course. Secondly, I do not well understand the justice of 
 this proceeding ; because I observe many of these polite 
 prefaces to be not only from the same hand, but from those 
 who are most voluminous in their several productions. Upon 
 which, I shall tell the reader a short tale. 
 
 A mountebank, in Leicester-fields, had drawn a huge 
 assembly about him. Among the rest, a fat unwieldy fellow, 
 half stifled in the press, would be every fit crying out, Lord ! 
 what a filthy crowd is here ! Pray, good people, give way a 
 little. Bless me / what a devil has raked this rabble together 1 
 Z — ds ! what squeezing is this I Honest friend, remove 
 your elbow. At last a weaver, that stood next him, could hold 
 no longer. A plague confound you, (said he,) for an over- 
 grown sloven ; and who (in the devil's name) I wonder, helps 
 to make up the crowd half so much as yourself 1 Don't you 
 consider (with a pox) that you take up more room with that 
 carcase, than any Jive here ? Is not the place as free for us as 
 for you 1 Bring your own guts to a reasonable compass, (and 
 be d — n'd,) and then I'll engage we shall have room enough for 
 us all. 
 
 There are certain common privileges of a writer, the 
 benefit whereof, I hope, there will be no reason to doubt ; 
 particularly, that where I am not understood, it shall be con- 
 cluded, that something very useful and profound is couched 
 underneath : and again, that whatever word or sentence is 
 printed in a different character, shall be judged to contain 
 something extraordinary either of wit or sublime. 
 
 As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of praising my- 
 self, upon some occasions or none, I am sure it will need no 
 excuse, if a multitude of great examples be allowed sufficient 
 authority : For it is here to be noted, that praise was origin- 
 ally a pension paid by the world ; but the moderns, finding 
 the trouble and charge too great in collecting it, have lately 
 bought out the fee-simple; since which time, the right of
 
 44 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 presentation is wholly in ourselves. For this reason it is, that 
 when an author makes his own elogy, 1 he uses a certain form 
 to declare and insist upon his title, which is commonly in 
 these or the like words, " I speak without vanity ; " which I 
 think plainly shews it to be a matter of right and justice. 
 Now I do here once for all declare, that in every encounter 
 of this nature through the following treatise, the form afore- 
 said is implied ; which I mention, to save the trouble of re- 
 peating it on so many occasions. 
 
 Tis a great ease to my conscience, that I have written so 
 elaborate and useful a discourse, without one grain of satire 
 intermixed; which is the sole point wherein I have taken 
 leave to dissent from the famous originals of our age and 
 country. I have observed some satirists to use the public 
 much at the rate that pedants do a naughty boy, ready 
 horsed for discipline : First, expostulate the case, then plead 
 the necessity of the rod from great provocations, and con- 
 clude every period with a lash. Now, if I know anything of 
 mankind, these gentlemen might very well spare their reproof 
 and correction : for there is not, through all nature, another 
 so callous and insensible a member, as the world's pos- 
 teriors, whether you apply to it the toe or the birch. Be- 
 sides, most of our late satirists seem to lie under a sort of 
 mistake ; that because nettles have the prerogative to sting, 
 therefore all other weeds must do so too. I make not this 
 comparison out of the least design to detract from these 
 worthy writers ; for it is well known among mythologists, 
 that weeds have the pre-eminence over all other vegetables ; 
 and therefore the first monarch of this island, 2 whose taste 
 and judgment were so acute and refined, did very wisely root 
 out the roses from the collar of the Order, and plant the 
 thistles in their stead, as the nobler flower of the two. For 
 which reason it is conjectured by profounder antiquaries, 
 that the satirical itch, so prevalent in this part of our island, 
 was first brought among us from beyond the Tweed. Here 
 may it long flourish and abound : may it survive and negiect 
 the scorn of the world, with as much ease and contempt, as 
 the world is insensible to the lashes of it. May their own 
 dulness, or that of their party, be no discouragement for the 
 
 1 Used in the sense of "eulogy," as it often was used in Swift's 
 day. [T. S.] 2 James I. [T. S.]
 
 THE PREFACE. 45 
 
 authors to proceed ; but let them remember, it is with wits 
 as with razors, which are never so apt to cut those they 
 are employed on, as when they have lost their edge. Be- 
 sides, those, whose teeth are too rotten to bite, are best, of 
 all others, qualified to revenge that defect with their breath. 
 I am not like other men, to envy or undervalue the talents 
 I cannot reach ; for which reason I must needs bear a true 
 honour to this large eminent sect of our British writers. 
 And I hope this little panegyric will not be offensive to their 
 ears, since it has the advantage of being only designed for 
 themselves. Indeed, nature herself has taken order, that 
 fame and honour should be purchased at a better penny- 
 worth by satire, than by any other productions of the brain ; 
 the world being soonest provoked to praise by lashes, as men 
 are to love. There is a problem in an ancient author, why 
 Dedications, and other bundles of flattery, run all upon stale 
 musty topics, without the smallest tincture of anything new ; 
 not only to the torment and nauseating of the Christian 
 reader, but (if not suddenly prevented) to the universal 
 spreading of that pestilent disease, the lethargy, in this 
 island : whereas there is very little satire, which has not 
 something in it untouched before. The defects of the 
 former are usually imputed to the want of invention among 
 those who are dealers in that kind ; but, I think, with a 
 great deal of injustice ; the solution being easy and natural ; 
 for the materials of panegyric, being very few in number, 
 have been long since exhausted. For, as health is but one 
 thing, and has been always the same, whereas diseases are 
 by thousands, beside new and daily additions ; so, all the 
 virtues that have been ever in mankind, are to be counted 
 upon a few fingers ; but his follies and vices are innumer- 
 able, and time adds hourly to the heap. Now the utmost a 
 poor poet can do, is to get by heart a list of the cardinal 
 virtues, and deal them with his utmost liberality to his hero, 
 or his patron : he may ring the changes as far as it will go, 
 and vary his phrase till he has talked round : but the reader 
 quickly finds it is all pork, 1 with a little variety of sauce. 
 For there is no inventing terms of art beyond our ideas ; 
 and, when our ideas are exhausted, terms of art must be so 
 too. 
 
 1 Plutarch.
 
 4^ A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 But though the matter for panegyric were as fruitful as the 
 topics of satire, yet would it not be hard to find out a suffi- 
 cient reason why the latter will be always better received 
 than the first. For, this being bestowed only upon one, or 
 a few persons at a time, is sure to raise envy, and conse- 
 quently ill words from the rest, who have no share in the 
 blessing. But satire, being levelled at all, is never resented 
 for an offence by any, since every individual person makes 
 bold to understand it of others, and very wisely removes his 
 particular part of the burden upon the shoulders of the 
 world, which are broad enough, and able to bear it. To 
 this purpose, I have sometimes reflected upon the difference 
 between Athens and England, with respect to the point 
 before us. In the Attic commonwealth, 1 it was the privilege 
 and birth-right of every citizen and poet to rail aloud, and in 
 public, or to expose upon the stage, by name, any person 
 they pleased, though of the greatest figure, whether a Creon, 2 
 an Hyperbolus, an Alcibiades, or a Demosthenes : but, on 
 the other side, the least reflecting word let fall against the 
 people in general, was immediately caught up, and revenged 
 upon the authors, however considerable for their quality or 
 their merits. Whereas in England it is just the reverse of 
 all this. Here, you may securely display your utmost 
 rhetoric against mankind, in the face of the world ; tell 
 them, "That all are gone astray; that there is none that 
 doth good, no not one ; that we live in the very dregs of 
 time ; that knavery and atheism are epidemic as the pox ; 
 that honesty is fled with Astraea ; " with any other common- 
 places, equally new and eloquent, which are furnished by 
 the splendida bills. 3 And when you have done, the whole 
 audience, far from being offended, shall return you thanks, 
 as a deliverer of precious and useful truths. Nay, farther ; 
 it is but to venture your lungs, and you may preach in 
 Covent-Garden against foppery and fornication, and some- 
 thing else : against pride, and dissimulation, and bribery, at 
 White-Hall : you may expose rapine and injustice in the 
 Inns of Court Chapel : and in a city pulpit, be as fierce as 
 you please against avarice, hypocrisy, and extortion. 'Tis 
 
 1 Vide Xenophon [Athenian Republic, cap. 2]. 
 
 8 Properly Cleon, but so printed in all editions. [T. S.] 
 
 3 Horace. Spleen.
 
 THE PREFACE. - 47 
 
 but a ball bandied to and fro, and every man carries a 
 racket about him, to strike it from himself, among the rest 
 of the company. But, on the other side, whoever should 
 mistake the nature of things so far, as to drop but a single 
 hint in public, how such a one starved half the fleet, and 
 half poisoned the rest : how such a one, from a true prin- 
 ciple of love and honour, pays no debts but for wenches and 
 play : how such a one has got a clap, and runs out of his 
 estate : how Paris, bribed by Juno and Venus, 1 loth to 
 offend either party, slept out the whole cause on the bench : 
 or, how such an orator makes long speeches in the senate, 
 with much thought, little sense, and to no purpose; who- 
 ever, I say, should venture to be thus particular, must ex- 
 pect to be imprisoned for scandalum magnatum ; to have 
 challenges sent him ; to be sued for defamation ; and to be 
 brought before the bar of the house. 
 
 But I forget that I am expatiating on a subject wherein I 
 have no concern, having neither a talent nor an inclination 
 for satire. On the other side, I am so entirely satisfied with 
 the whole present procedure of human things, that I have been 
 some years preparing materials towards A Panegyric upon the 
 World ; to which I intended to add a second part, entitled, 
 A modest Defence of the Proceedings of the Rabble in all Ages. 
 Both these I had thoughts to publish, by way of appendix to 
 the following treatise ; but finding my common-place book 
 fill much slower than I had reason to expect, I have chosen 
 to defer them to another occasion. Besides, I have been un- 
 happily prevented in that design by a certain domestic mis- 
 fortune ; in the particulars whereof, though it would be very 
 seasonable, and much in the modern way, to inform the 
 gentle reader, and would also be of great assistance towards 
 extending this preface into the size now in vogue, which by 
 rule ought to be large in proportion as the subsequent volume 
 is small ; yet I shall now dismiss our impatient reader from 
 any farther attendance at the porch, and, having duly prepared 
 his mind by a preliminary discourse, shall gladly introduce him 
 to the sublime mysteries that ensue. 
 
 1 Juno and Venus are Money and a mistress, very powerful bribes to 
 a judge, if scandal says true. I remember such reflections were cast 
 about that time, but I cannot fix the person intended here.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB, &c. 
 
 SECT. I. 
 
 THE INTRODUCTION. 
 
 WHOEVER has an ambition to be heard in a crowd, 
 must press, and squeeze, and thrust, and climb, with 
 indefatigable pains, till he has exalted himself to a certain 
 degree of altitude above them. Now, in all assemblies, 
 though you wedge them ever so close, we may observe this 
 peculiar property, that over their heads there is room enough, 
 but how to reach it is the difficult point ; it being as hard to 
 get quit of number, as of hell ; 
 
 I 
 
 evadere ad auras, 
 
 Hoc opus, hie labor est. 1 — VlRGlL. 
 
 To this end, the philosopher's way, in all ages, has been by 
 erecting certain edifices in the air : but, whatever practice and 
 reputation these kind of structures have formerly possessed, 
 or may still continue in, not excepting even that of Socrates, 
 when he was suspended in a basket to help contemplation, I 
 think, with due submission, they seem to labour under two 
 inconveniences. First, That the foundations being laid too 
 high, they have been often out of sight, and ever out of hear- 
 ing. Secondly, That the materials being very transitory, have 
 suffered much from inclemencies of air, especially in these 
 north-west regions. 
 
 Therefore, towards the just performance of this great work, 
 there remain but three methods that I can think of; whereof 
 the wisdom of our ancestors being highly sensible, has, to 
 
 * But to return, and view the cheerful skies ; 
 
 In this the task and mighty labour lies. — Dryden.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 49 
 
 encourage all aspiring adventurers, thought fit to erect three 
 wooden machines for the use of those orators, who desire to 
 talk much without interruption. These are, the pulpit, the 
 ladder, and the stage itinerant. For, as to the bar, though 
 it be compounded of the same matter, and designed for the 
 same use, it cannot, however, be well allowed the honour of 
 a fourth, by reason of its level or inferior situation exposing 
 it to perpetual interruption from collaterals. Neither can the 
 bench itself, though raised to a proper eminency, put in a 
 better claim, whatever its advocates insist on. For, if they 
 please to look into the original design of its erection, and the 
 circumstances or adjuncts subservient to that design, they will 
 soon acknowledge the present practice, exactly correspondent 
 to the primitive institution, and both to answer the etymology 
 of the name, which in the Phoenician tongue is a word of great 
 signification, importing, if literally interpreted, the place of 
 sleep ; but in common acceptation, a seat well bolstered and 
 cushioned, for the repose of old and gouty limbs : senes tit in 
 otia tuta recedant. Fortune being indebted to them this part 
 of retaliation, that, as formerly, they have long talked, while 
 others slept ; so now they may sleep as long, while others talk. 
 
 But if no other argument could occur, to exclude the 
 Bench and the Bar from the list of oratorial machines, it 
 were sufficient that the admission of them would overthrow a 
 number, which I was resolved to establish, whatever argument 
 it might cost me ; in imitation of that prudent method ob- 
 served by many other philosophers, and great clerks, whose 
 chief art in division has been to grow fond of some proper 
 mystical number, which their imaginations have rendered 
 sacred, to a degree, that they force common reason to find 
 room for it, in every part of nature ; reducing, including, and 
 adjusting, every genus and species within that compass, by 
 coupling some against their wills, and banishing others at any 
 rate. Now,amongalltherest,theprofoundnumber THREE is 
 that which has most employed my sublimest speculations, nor 
 ever without wonderful delight. There is now in the press 
 (and will be published next term) a panegyrical essay of mine 
 upon this number ; wherein I have, by most convincing proofs, 
 not only reduced the senses and the elements under its banner, 
 but brought over several deserters from its two great rivals, 
 SEVEN and NINE. 
 
 I. B
 
 50 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Now, the first of these oratorial machines, in place, as well 
 as dignity, is the pulpit. Of pulpits there are in this island 
 several sorts ; but I esteem only that made of timber from 
 the sylva Caledonia, which agrees very well with our climate. 
 If it be upon its decay, 'tis the better both for conveyance of 
 sound, and for other reasons to be mentioned by and by. 
 The degree of perfection in shape and size, I take to consist 
 in being extremely narrow, with little ornament ; and, best of 
 all, without a cover, (for, by ancient rule, it ought to be the 
 only uncovered vessel in every assembly, where it is rightfully 
 used,) by which means, from its near resemblance to a pillory, 
 it will ever have a mighty influence on human ears. 
 
 Of ladders I need say nothing : it is observed by foreigners 
 themselves, to the honour of our country, that we excel all 
 nations in our practice and understanding of this machine. 
 The ascending orators do not only oblige their audience in 
 the agreeable delivery, but the whole world in the early pub- 
 lication of their speeches ; which I look upon as the choicest 
 treasury of our British eloquence, and whereof, I am informed, 
 that worthy citizen and bookseller, Mr. John Dunton, has made 
 a faithful and painful collection, which he shortly designs to 
 publish, in twelve volumes in folio, illustrated with copper- 
 plates. A work highly useful and curious, and altogether 
 worthy of such a hand. 1 
 
 The last engine of orators is the stage itinerant, 2 erected 
 with much sagacity, sub Jove pluvio, in triviis et quadriviis. 3 
 It is the great seminary of the two former, and its orators are 
 sometimes preferred to the one, and sometimes to the other, 
 in proportion to their deservings ; there being a strict and 
 perpetual intercourse between all three. 
 
 From this accurate deduction it is manifest, that for 
 obtaining attention in public, there is of necessity required a 
 
 1 Mr. John Dunton (1659-1733) was a London bookseller and pub- 
 lisher, who failed through his too ambitious projects. He brought out 
 the " Athenian Mercury," a weekly magazine of questions and answers 
 upon all possible subjects. The " Mercury" was afterwards reprinted 
 as the "Athenian Oracle." His most remarkable achievement was 
 the writing of that very curious book, " Dunton 's Life and Errors." 
 [T. S.] 
 
 a I.e. the mountebank's stage, whose orators the author determines 
 either to the gallows, or a conventicle. 
 
 3 In the open air, and in streets where the greatest resort is.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 5 1 
 
 superior position of place. But, although this point be 
 generally granted, yet the cause is little agreed in ; and it 
 seems to me, that very few philosophers have fallen into a 
 true, natural solution of this phenomenon. The deepest 
 account, and the most fairly digested of any I have yet met 
 with, is this ; that air being a heavy body, and therefore, 
 (according to the system of Epicurus, 1 ) continually descend- 
 ing, must needs be more so, when loaden and pressed down 
 by words ; which are also bodies of much weight and gravity, 
 as it is manifest from those deep impressions they make and 
 leave upon us ; and therefore must be delivered from a due 
 altitude, or else they will neither carry a good aim, nor fall 
 down with a sufficient force. 
 
 Corpoream quoque enim vocem constare fatendum est, 
 Et sonitum, quoniam possunt impellere sensus.- 
 
 Lucr. Lib. 4. 
 
 And I am the readier to favour this conjecture, from a 
 common observation, that in the several assemblies of these 
 orators, nature itself has instructed the hearers to stand with 
 their mouths open, and erected parallel to the horizon, so as 
 they may be intersected by a perpendicular line from the 
 zenith, to the centre of the earth. In which position, if the 
 audience be well compact, every one carries home a share, 
 and little or nothing is lost. 
 
 I confess there is something yet more refined, in the con- 
 trivance and structure of our modern theatres. For, first, the 
 pit is sunk below the stage, with due regard to the institution 
 above deduced ; that, whatever weighty matter shall be de- 
 livered thence (whether it be lead or gold) may fall plumb 
 into the jaws of certain critics (as I think they are called) 
 which stand ready opened to devour them. Then, the boxes 
 are built round, and raised to a level with the scene, in defer- 
 ence to the ladies ; because, that large portion of wit, laid out 
 in raising pruriences and protuberances, is observed to run 
 much upon a line, and ever in a circle. The whining passions, 
 and little starved conceits, are gently wafted up, by their own 
 extreme levity, to the middle region, and there fix and are 
 frozen by the frigid understandings of the inhabitants. Bom- 
 
 1 Lucretius, Lib. 2. 
 
 a 'Tis certain then, that voice that thus can wound, 
 
 Is all material ; body every sound.
 
 %2 A TALE OF A TUB 
 
 bastry and buffoonery, by nature lofty and light, soar highest 
 of all, and would be lost in the roof, if the prudent architect 
 had not, with much foresight, contrived for them a fourth 
 place, called the twelve-penny gallery, and there planted 
 a suitable colony, who greedily intercept them in their 
 passage. 
 
 Now this physico-logical scheme of oratorial receptacles 
 or machines, contains a great mystery ; being a type, a sign, 
 an emblem, a shadow, a symbol, bearing analogy to the 
 spacious commonwealth of writers, and to those methods, by 
 which they must exalt themselves to a certain eminency above 
 the inferior world. By the pulpit are adumbrated the writings 
 of our modern saints in Great Britain, as they have spiritualized 
 and refined them, from the dross and grossness of sense and 
 human reason. The matter, as we have said, is of rotten 
 wood ; and that upon two considerations ; because it is the 
 quality of rotten wood, to give light in the dark : and secondly, 
 because its cavities are full of worms ; which is a type with a 
 pair of handles, 1 having a respect to the two principal qualifi- 
 cations of the orator, and the two different fates attending 
 upon his works. 
 
 The ladder, is an adequate symbol of faction, and of 
 poetry, to both of which so noble a number of authors are 
 indebted for their fame. Of faction, because 2 * * * Hiatus 
 in MS. * . •* * * * * * * * 
 ***** * Of poetry, because its 
 
 orators do perorare with a song ; and because, climbing up 
 by slow degrees, fate is sure to turn them off, before they can 
 reach within many steps of the top : and because it is a pre- 
 ferment attained by transferring of propriety, and a con- 
 founding of vieuin and tiium. 
 
 Under the stage itinerant, are couched those productions 
 designed for the pleasure and delight of mortal man ; such 
 as, Six-penny-worth of Wit, Westminster Drolleries, De- 
 
 1 The two principal qualifications of a fanatic preacher are, his inward 
 light, and his head full of maggots ; and the two different fates of his 
 writings are, to be burnt or worm-eaten. 
 
 2 Here is pretended a defect in the manuscript ; and this is very 
 frequent with our author, either when he thinks he cannot say anything 
 worth reading, or when he has no mind to enter on the subject, or when 
 it is a matter of little moment ; or perhaps to amuse his reader, whereof 
 he is frequently very fond } or, lastly, with some satirical intention.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 53 
 
 lightful Tales, Compleat Jesters, and the like ; by which the 
 writers of and for Grub-street, have in these latter ages so 
 nobly triumphed over Time ; have clipped his wings, pared 
 his nails, filed his teeth, turned back his hour-glass, blunted 
 his scythe, and drawn the hob-nails out of his shoes. It i. 
 under this class I have presumed to list my present treatise 
 being just come from having the honour conferred upon me 
 to be adopted a member of that illustrious fraternity. 
 
 Now, I am not unaware, how the productions of the Grub 
 street brotherhood, have of late years fallen under main 
 prejudices, nor how it has been the perpetual employment a 
 two junior start-up societies to ridicule them and then 
 authors, as unworthy their established post in the common- 
 wealth of wit and learning. Their own consciences wil* 
 easily inform them whom I mean ; nor has the world been 
 so negligent a looker-on, as not to observe the continual 
 efforts made by the societies of Gresham, 1 and of Will's, 2 to 
 edify a name and reputation upon the ruin of OURS. And 
 this is yet a more feeling grief to us, upon the regards of 
 tenderness as well as of justice, when we reflect on their 
 proceedings not only as unjust, but as ungrateful, undutiful, 
 and unnatural. For how can it be forgot by the world or 
 themselves, (to say nothing of our own records, which are 
 full and clear in the point,) that they both are seminaries not 
 only of our planting, but our watering too ? I am informed, 
 our two rivals have lately made an offer to enter into the 
 lists with united forces, and challenge us to a comparison of 
 books, both as to weight and number. In return to which, 
 (with licence from our president,) I humbly offer two 
 answers : first, we say, the proposal is like that which Ar- 
 chimedes made upon a smaller affair, 3 including an im- 
 possibility in the practice ; for, where can they find scales of 
 capacity enough for the first, or an arithmetician of capacity 
 enough for the second? Secondly, we are ready to accept 
 
 1 Gresham College was the place where the Royal Society then met. 
 Swift never misses an opportunity for satirizing either the scientists or the 
 wits of his day. [T. S.] 
 
 2 Will's coffee-house, in Covent- Garden, was formerly the place where 
 the poets usually met, which, though it be yet fresh in memory, in some 
 years may be forgotten, and want this explanation, 
 
 3 Viz. About moving the earth.
 
 54 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 the challenge; but with this condition, that a third in- 
 different person be assigned, to whose impartial judgment it 
 should be left to decide, which society each book, treatise, or 
 pamphlet, do most properly belong to. This point, God 
 knows, is very far from being fixed at present ; for we are 
 ready to produce a catalogue of some thousands, which in 
 all common justice ought to be entitled to our fraternity, but 
 by the revolted and new-fangled writers, most perfidiously 
 ascribed to the others. Upon all which, we think it very 
 unbecoming our prudence, that the determination should be 
 remitted to the authors themselves ; when our adversaries, 
 by briguing 1 and caballing, have caused so universal a de- 
 fection from us, that the greatest part of our society has 
 already deserted to them, and our nearest friends begin to 
 stand aloof, as if they were half ashamed to own us. 
 
 This is the utmost I am authorized to say upon so un- 
 grateful and melancholy a subject ; because we are extreme 
 unwilling to inflame a controversy, whose continuance may 
 be so fatal to the interests of us all, desiring much rather 
 that things be amicably composed ; and we shall so far 
 advance on our side, as to be ready to receive the two 
 prodigals with open arms, whenever they shall think fit to 
 return from their husks and their harlots ; which, I think, 
 from the present course of their studies, 2 they most properly 
 may be said to be engaged in ; and, like an indulgent 
 parent, continue to them our affection and our blessing. 
 
 But the greatest maim given to that general reception, 
 which the writings of our society have formerly received, 
 (next to the transitory state of all sublunary things,) has been 
 a superficial vein among many. readers of the present age, 
 who will by no means be persuaded to inspect beyond the 
 surface and the rind of things ; whereas, wisdom is a fox, 
 who, after long hunting, will at last cost you the pains to dig 
 out. It is a cheese, which, by how much the richer, has the 
 thicker, the homelier, and the coarser coat ; and whereof, to 
 a judicious palate, the maggots are the best. It is a sack- 
 posset, wherein the deeper you go, you will find it the 
 sweeter. Wisdom is a hen, whose cackling we must value 
 
 1 I.e. intriguing. [T. S.] 
 
 3 Virtuoso experiments, and modern comedies.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 55 
 
 and consider, because it is attended with an egg ; but then 
 lastly, it is a nut, which, unless you choose with judgment, 
 may cost you a tooth, and pay you with nothing but a worm. 
 In consequence of these momentous truths, the Grubsean 
 Sages have always chosen to convey their precepts and their 
 arts, shut up within the vehicles of types and fables ; which 
 having been perhaps more careful and curious in adorning, 
 than was altogether necessary, it has fared with these vehicles, 
 after the usual fate of coaches over finely painted and gilt, 
 that the transitory gazers have so dazzled their eyes, and 
 filled their imaginations with the outward lustre, as neither 
 to regard nor consider the person, or the parts, of the owner 
 within. A misfortune we undergo with somewhat less re- 
 luctancy, because it has been common to us with Pythagoras, 
 ^Esop, Socrates, and other of our predecessors. 
 
 However, that neither the world, nor ourselves, may any 
 longer suffer by such misunderstandings, I have been pre- 
 vailed on, after much importunity from my friends, to travel 
 in a complete and laborious dissertation, upon the prime 
 productions of our society ; which, beside their beautiful ex- 
 ternals, for the gratification of superficial readers, have 
 darkly and deeply couched under them, the most finished 
 and refined systems of all sciences and arts ; as I do not 
 doubt to lay open, by untwisting or unwinding, and either 
 to draw up by exantlation, 1 or display by incision. 
 
 This great work was entered upon some years ago, by one 
 of our most eminent members : he began with the History of 
 Reynard the Fox, 2 but neither lived to publish his essay, nor 
 to proceed farther in so useful an attempt ; which is very 
 much to be lamented, because the discovery he made, and 
 communicated with his friends, is now universally received ; 
 nor do I think any of the learned will dispute that famous 
 treatise to be a complete body of civil knowledge, and the 
 revelation, or rather the apocalypse, of all State Arcana. 
 But the progress I have made is much greater, having 
 already finished my annotations upon several dozens ; from 
 
 1 I.e., by exhaustion. [T. S.] 
 
 2 The Author seems here to be mistaken, for I have seen a Latin 
 edition of Reynard the Fox, above an hundred years old, which I take 
 to be the original ; for the rest it has been thought by many people to 
 contain some satyrical design in it.
 
 5^ A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 some of which I shall impart a few hints to the candid 
 reader, as far as will be necessary to the conclusion at which 
 I aim. 
 
 The first piece I have handled is that of Tom Thumb, 
 whose author was a Pythagorean philosopher. This dark 
 treatise contains the whole scheme of the Metempsychosis, 
 deducing the progress of the soul through all her stages. 
 
 The next is Dr. Faustus, penned by Artephius, an author 
 bona note, and an adeptus ; he published it in the nine- 
 hundred-eighty-fourth year of his age ; 1 this writer proceeds 
 wholly by reincrudation, or in the via humida ; and the 
 marriage between Faustus and Helen does most conspicuously 
 dilucidate the fermenting of the male and female dragon. 
 
 Whittington and his Cat is the work of that mysterious 
 rabbi, Jehuda Hannasi, containing a defence of the Gemara 
 of the Jerusalem Mishna, 2 and its just preference to that of 
 Babylon, contrary to the vulgar opinion. 
 
 The Hind and Panther. This is the masterpiece of a 
 famous writer now living, 3 intended for a complete abstract 
 of sixteen thousand school-men, from Scotus to Bellarmin. 
 
 Tommy Potts. 4 Another piece, supposed by the same 
 hand, by way of supplement to the former. 
 
 The Wise Men of Gotham, cum appendice. This is a 
 treatise of immense erudition, being the great original and 
 fountain of those arguments, bandied about, both in France 
 and England, for a just defence of the moderns' learning and 
 wit, against the presumption, the pride, and ignorance of the 
 ancients. This unknown author has so exhausted the sub- 
 ject, that a penetrating reader will easily discover whatever 
 has been written since upon that dispute, to be little more 
 than repetition. An abstract of this treatise has been lately 
 published by a worthy member of our society. 5 
 
 These notices may serve to give the learned reader an idea, 
 
 1 He lived a thousand. 
 
 a The Gemara is the decision, explanation, or interpretation of the 
 Jewish rabbis ; and the Mishna is properly the code or body of the 
 Jewish civil or common law. [H.] 
 
 3 Viz. In the year 1697. 
 
 * A popular ballad, then the favourite of the vulgar, now an object of 
 ambition to the collectors of black-letter. [S.] 
 
 6 This I suppose to be understood of Mr. Wotton's Discourse of 
 Ancient and Modern Learning.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 57 
 
 as well as a taste, of what the whole work is likely to produce; 
 wherein I have now altogether circumscribed my thoughts and 
 my studies ; and, if I can bring it to a perfection before I die, 
 shall reckon I have well employed the poor remains of an 
 unfortunate life. 1 This, indeed, is more than I can justly 
 expect, from a quill worn to the pith in the service of the 
 state, in pros and cons upon Popish plots, and meal-tubs, 2 and 
 exclusion bills, and passive obedience, and addresses of lives 
 and fortunes, and prerogative, and property, 3 and liberty of 
 conscience, and letters to a friend : from an understanding 
 and a conscience thread-bare and ragged with perpetual turn- 
 ing ; from a head broken in a hundred places by the malignants 
 of the opposite factions ; and from a body spent with poxes 
 ill cured, by trusting to bawds and surgeons, who, (as it after- 
 wards appeared,) were professed enemies to me and the 
 government, and revenged their party's quarrel upon my nose 
 and shins. Fourscore and eleven pamphlets have I written 
 under three reigns, and for the service of six and thirty 
 factions. 4 But, finding the state has no farther occasion for 
 me and my ink, I retire willingly to draw it out into specula- 
 tions more becoming a philosopher ; having, to my unspeak- 
 able comfort, passed a long life with a conscience void of 
 offence. 5 
 
 But to return. I am assured from the reader's candour, 
 that the brief specimen I have given, will easily clear all the 
 rest of our society's productions from an aspersion grown, as 
 it is manifest, out of envy and ignorance; that they are of 
 little farther use or value to mankind, beyond the common 
 entertainments of their wit and their style ; for these I am sure 
 have never yet been disputed by our keenest adversaries : in 
 
 1 Here the author seems to personate L'Estrange, Dryden, and some 
 others, who, after having passed their lives in vices, faction, and false- 
 hood, have the impudence to talk of merit, and innocence, and sufferings. 
 
 2 In King Charles the Second's time, there was an account of a Pres- 
 byterian plot, found in a tub, which then made much noise. 
 
 8 Third edition—/^;?. [T. S.] 
 
 * Forster ("Life," p. 183, note) quotes from Kidd's "Tracts," the 
 curious discovery made by Professor Porson. A passage in " Gulliver " 
 speaks of the King's smiths, who "conveyed four score and eleven 
 chains . . . which were locked to my left leg with six and thirty pad- 
 locks." (See vol. viii, p. 26 of this edition.) [T. S.] 
 
 5 The first four editions add to this sentence — towards God and 
 towards men. [T. S.j
 
 58 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 both which, as well as the more profound and mystical part, 
 I have, throughout this treatise, closely followed the most ap- 
 plauded originals. And to render all complete, I have, with 
 much thought and application of mind, so ordered, that the 
 chief title prefixed to it, (I mean that under which I design it 
 shall pass in the common conversations of court and town,) 
 is modelled exactly after the manner peculiar to our society. 
 I confess to have been somewhat liberal in the business of 
 titles/ having observed the humour of multiplying them, to 
 bear great vogue among certain writers, whom I exceedingly 
 reverence. And indeed it seems not unreasonable, that 
 books, the children of the brain, should have the honour to 
 be christened with variety of names, as well as other infants of 
 quality. Our famous Dryden has ventured to proceed a point 
 farther, endeavouring to introduce also a multiplicity of god- 
 fathers ; 2 which is an improvement of much more advantage 
 upon a very obvious account. 'Tis a pity this admirable 
 invention has not been better cultivated, so as to grow by this 
 time into general imitation, when such an authority serves it 
 for a precedent. Nor have my endeavours been wanting to 
 second so useful an example; but it seems there is an un- 
 happy expense usually annexed to the calling of a god-father, 
 which was clearly out of my head, as it is very reasonable to 
 believe. Where the pinch lay, I cannot certainly affirm ; but 
 having employed a world of thoughts and pains to split my 
 treatise into forty sections, and having entreated forty lords 
 of my acquaintance, that they would do me the honour to 
 stand, they all made it a matter of conscience, and sent me 
 their excuses. 
 
 SECT. II. 
 
 Once upon a time, there was a man who had three sons by 
 one wife, 3 and all at a birth, neither could the midwife tell 
 certainly, which was the eldest. Their father died while they 
 
 1 The title-page in the original was so torn, that it was not possible 
 to recover several titles, which the author here speaks of. 
 
 2 See Virgil translated, &c. 
 
 He dedicated the different parts of Virgil to different patrons. [H.] 
 
 3 By these three sons, Peter, Martin, and Jack ; Popery, the Church 
 of England, and our Protestant dissenters, are designed.— W. Wotton.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 59 
 
 were young ; and upon his deathbed, calling the lads to him, 
 spoke thus : 
 
 " Sons ; because I have purchased no estate, nor was born 
 to any, I have long considered of some good legacies to 
 bequeath you ; and at last, with much care, as well as expense, 
 have provided each of you (here they are) a new coat. 1 Now, 
 you are to understand, that these coats have two virtues con- 
 tained in them ; one is, that with good wearing, they will last 
 you fresh and sound as long as you live : the other is, that 
 they will grow in the same proportion with your bodies, 
 lengthening and widening of themselves, so as to be always 
 fit. Here ; let me see them on you before I die. So ; very 
 well ; pray, children, wear them clean, and brush them often. 
 You will find in my will 2 (here it is) full instructions in every 
 particular concerning the wearing and management of your 
 coats ; wherein you must be very exact, to avoid the penalties 
 I have appointed for every transgression or neglect, upon 
 which your future fortunes will entirely depend. I have also 
 commanded in my will, that you should live together in one 
 house like brethren and friends, for then you will be sure to 
 thrive, and not otherwise." 
 
 Here the story says, this good father died, and the three 
 sons went all together to seek their fortunes. 
 
 I shall not trouble you with recounting what adventures 
 they met for the first seven years ; 3 any farther than by taking 
 notice, that they carefully observed their father's will, and 
 kept their coats in very good order : that they travelled 
 through several countries, encountered a reasonable quantity 
 of giants, and slew certain dragons. 
 
 Being now arrived at the proper age for producing them- 
 selves, they came up to town, and fell in love with the ladies, 
 but especially three, who about that time were in chief repu- 
 tation; the Duchess d'Argent, Madame de Grands Titres, 
 
 1 By his coats which he gave his sons, the Garments of the Israelites. 
 — W. Wotton. 
 
 An error (with submission) of the learned commentator ; for by the 
 coats are meant the Doctrine and Faith of Christianity, by the Wisdom 
 of the divine Founder fitted to all times, places, and circumstances. — 
 Lambin. 
 
 2 The New Testament. 
 
 8 The first seven centuries. — Curll's "Key."
 
 60 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 and the Countess d'Orgueil. 1 On their first appearance, our 
 three adventurers met with a very bad reception ; and soon 
 with great sagacity guessing out the reason, they quickly 
 began to improve in the good qualities of the town : they 
 writ, and rallied, and rhymed, and sung, and said, and said 
 nothing : they drank, and fought, and whored, and slept, and 
 swore, and took snuff: they went to new plays on the first 
 night, haunted the chocolate houses, beat the watch, lay on 
 bulks, and got claps : they bilked hackney-coachmen, ran in 
 debt with shopkeepers, and lay with their wives : they killed 
 bailiffs, kicked fiddlers down stairs, eat at Locket's, 2 loitered 
 at Will's : 3 they talked of the drawing-room, and never came 
 there : dined with lords they never saw : whispered a duchess, 
 and spoke never a word : exposed the scrawls of their laundress 
 for billetdoux of quality : came ever just from court, and were 
 never seen in it : attended the Levee sub dio : got a list of 
 peers by heart in one company, and with great familiarity 
 retailed them in another. Above all, they constantly attended 
 those Committees of Senators, who are silent in the House, 
 and loud in the coffee-house ; where they nightly adjourn to 
 chew the cud of politics, and are encompassed with a ring 
 of disciples, who lie in wait to catch up their droppings. The 
 three brothers had acquired forty other qualifications of the 
 like stamp, too tedious to recount, and by consequence, were 
 justly reckoned the most accomplished persons in the town : 
 but all would not suffice, and the ladies aforesaid continued 
 still inflexible. To clear up which difficulty I must, with the 
 reader's good leave and patience, have recourse to some 
 points of weight, which the authors of that age have not 
 sufficiently illustrated. 
 
 For, about this time it happened a sect arose, 4 whose 
 tenets obtained and spread very far, especially in the grande 
 monde, and among everybody of good fashion. They wor- 
 shipped a sort of idol, 5 who, as their doctrine delivered, did 
 
 1 Their mistresses are the Duchess d'Argent, Mademoiselle de Grands 
 Titres, and the Countess d'Orgueil, i.e. covetousness, ambition, and 
 pride ; which were the three great vices that the ancient fathers inveighed 
 against, as the first corruptions of Christianity. — W. Wotton. 
 
 2 A noted tavern. [S.] 3 See p. 53, note. [T. S.] 
 
 4 This is an occasional satire upon dress and fashion, in order to in- 
 troduce what follows. 
 
 6 By this idol is meant a tailor.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 6l 
 
 daily create men by a kind of manufactory operation. This 
 idol they placed in the highest parts of the house, on an 
 altar erected about three foot : he was shewn in the posture 
 of a Persian emperor, sitting on a superficies, with his legs 
 interwoven under him. This god had a goose for his ensign : 
 whence it is that some learned men pretend to deduce his 
 original from Jupiter Capitolinus. At his left hand, beneath 
 the altar, Hell seemed to open, and catch at the animals the 
 idol was creating; to prevent which, certain of his priests 
 hourly flung in pieces of the uninformed mass, or substance, 
 and sometimes whole limbs already enlivened, which that 
 horrid gulf insatiably swallowed, terrible to behold. The 
 goose was also held a subaltern divinity or deus minorum 
 gentium, before whose shrine was sacrificed that creature, 
 whose hourly food is human gore, and who is in so great 
 renown abroad, for being the delight and favourite of the 
 ^Egyptian Cercopithecus. 1 Millions of these animals were 
 cruelly slaughtered every day, to appease the hunger of that 
 consuming deity. The chief idol was also worshipped as 
 the inventor of the yard and needle ; whether as the god of 
 seamen, or on account of certain other mystical attributes, 
 has not been sufficiently cleared. 
 
 The worshippers of this deity had also a system of their 
 belief, which seemed to turn upon the following fundamentals. 
 They held the universe to be a large suit of clothes, which in- 
 vests everything : that the earth is invested by the air ; the 
 air is invested by the stars ; and the stars are invested by the 
 primum mobile. Look on this globe of earth, you will find 
 it to be a very complete and fashionable dress. What is that 
 which some call land, but a fine coat faced with green ? or 
 the sea. but a waistcoat of water-tabby? Proceed to the 
 particular works of the creation, you will find how curious 
 journeyman Nature has been, to trim up the vegetable beaux; 
 observe how sparkish a periwig adorns the head of a beech, 
 and what a fine doublet of white satin is worn by the birch. 
 To conclude from all, what is man himself but a micro-coat, 2 
 or rather a complete suit of clothes with all its trimmings ? 
 
 1 The /Egyptians worshipped a monkey, which animal is very fond of 
 eating lice, styled here creatures that feed on human gore. 
 
 2 Alluding to the word microcosm, or a little world, as man has been 
 called by philosophers.
 
 62 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 as to his body, there can be no dispute : but examine even 
 the acquirements of his mind, you will find them all con- 
 tribute in their order towards furnishing out an exact dress : 
 to instance no more ; is not religion a cloak ; honesty a pair 
 of shoes worn out in the dirt ; self-love a surtout ; vanity a 
 shirt ; and conscience a pair of breeches ; which, though a 
 cover for lewdness as well as nastiness, is easily slipt down for 
 the service of both ? 
 
 These postulata being admitted, it will follow in due course 
 of reasoning, that those beings, which the world calls im- 
 properly suits of clothes, are in reality the most refined 
 species of animals; or, to proceed higher, that they are 
 rational creatures, or men. For, is it not manifest, that they 
 live, and move, and talk, and perform all other offices of 
 human life ? Are not beauty, and wit, and mien, and breed- 
 ing, their inseparable proprieties ? In short, we see nothing 
 but them, hear nothing but them. Is it not they who walk 
 the streets, fill up parliament — , coffee — , play — , bawdy- 
 houses? 'Tis true, indeed, that these animals, which are 
 vulgarly called suits of clothes, or dresses, do, according 
 to certain compositions, receive different appellations. If 
 one of them be trimmed up with a gold chain, and a red 
 gown, and a white rod, and a great horse, it is called a Lord- 
 Mayor : if certain ermines and furs be placed in a certain 
 position, we style them a Judge ; and so an apt conjunction 
 of lawn and black satin we entitle a Bishop. 
 
 Others of these professors, though agreeing in the main 
 system, were yet more refined upon certain branches of it ; 
 and held, that man was an animal compounded of two dresses, 
 the natural and celestial suit, which were the body and the 
 soul : that the soul was the outward, and the body the 
 inward clothing; that the latter was ex traduce; but the 
 former of daily creation and circumfusion ; this last they 
 proved by scripture, because in them we live, and move, and 
 have our being ; as likewise by philosophy, because they are 
 all in all, and all in every part. Besides, said they, separate 
 these two, and you will find the body to be only a senseless 
 unsavoury carcase. By all which it is manifest, that the out- 
 ward dress must needs be the soul. 
 
 To this system of religion, were tagged several subaltern 
 doctrines, which were entertained with great vogue ; as par-
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 63 
 
 ticularly, the faculties of the mind were deduced by the 
 learned among them in this manner ; embroidery, was sheer 
 wit ; gold fringe, was agreeable conversation ; gold lace, was 
 repartee ; a huge long periwig, was humour ; and a coat full 
 of powder, was very good raillery: all which required abund- 
 ance of finesse and delicatesse to manage with advantage, as 
 well as a strict observance after times and fashions. 
 
 I have, with much pains and reading, collected out of 
 ancient authors, this short summary of a body of philosophy 
 and divinity, which seems to have been composed by a vein 
 and race of thinking, very different from any other systems 
 either ancient or modern. And it was not merely to enter- 
 tain or satisfy the reader's curiosity, but rather to give him 
 light into several circumstances of the following story ; that 
 knowing the state of dispositions and opinions in an age so 
 remote, he may better comprehend those great events, which 
 were the issue of them. I advise therefore the courteous 
 reader to peruse with a world of application, again and again, 
 whatever I have written upon this matter. And leaving these 
 broken ends, I carefully gather up the chief thread of my 
 story and proceed. 
 
 These opinions, therefore, were so universal, as well as the 
 practices of them, among the refined part of court and town, 
 that our three brother-adventurers, as their circumstances 
 then stood, were strangely at a loss. For, on the one side, 
 the three ladies they addressed themselves to, (whom we 
 have named already,) were at the very top of the fashion, 
 and abhorred all that were below it but the breadth of a 
 hair. On the other side, their father's will was very precise, 
 and it was the main precept in it, with the greatest penalties 
 annexed, not to add to, or diminish from their coats one 
 thread, without a positive command in the will. Now, the 
 coats their father had left them were, 'tis true, of very good 
 cloth, and, besides, so neatly sewn, you would swear they 
 were all of a piece ; but, at the same time, very plain, and 
 with little or no ornament : and it happened, that before they 
 were a month in town, great shoulder-knots ' came up : 
 
 1 The first part of the Tale is the history of Peter ; thereby Popery is 
 exposed: everybody knows the Papists have made great additions to 
 Christianity; that, indeed, is the great exception which the Church of
 
 64 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 straight all the world was shoulder-knots; no approaching 
 the ladies' ruelles without the quota of shoulder-knots. That 
 fellow, cries one, has no soul ; where is his shoulder-knot ? 
 Our three brethren soon discovered their want by sad expe- 
 rience, meeting in their walks with forty mortifications and 
 indignities. If they went to the play-house, the door-keeper 
 shewed them into the twelve-penny gallery. If they called a 
 boat, says a waterman, I am first sculler. If they stepped to 
 the Rose to take a bottle, the drawer would cry, Friend, we 
 sell no ale. If they went to visit a lady, a footman met them 
 at the door, with, Pray send up your message. In this un- 
 happy case, they went immediately to consult their father's 
 will, read it over and over, but not a word of the shoulder- 
 knot. What should they do? What temper should they 
 find ? Obedience was absolutely necessary, and yet shoulder- 
 knots appeared extremely requisite. After much thought, 
 one of the brothers, who happened to be more book-learned 
 than the other two, said, he had found # an expedient. 'Tis 
 true, said he, there is nothing here in this will, totidem verbis, 1 
 making mention of shoulder-knots : but I dare conjecture, we 
 may find them inclusive, or totidem syllabis. This distinction 
 was immediately approved by all ; and so they fell again to 
 examine the will. But their evil star had so directed the 
 matter, that the first syllable was not to be found in the 
 whole writing. Upon which disappointment, he, who found 
 
 England makes against them ; accordingly Peter begins his pranks with 
 adding a shoulder-knot to his coat. — W. Wotton. 
 
 His description of the cloth of which the coat was made, has a farther 
 meaning than the words may seem to import : * ' The coats their father 
 had left them were of very good cloth, and, besides, so neatly sewn, you 
 would swear it had been all of a piece ; but, at the same time, very plain, 
 with little or no ornament." This is the distinguishing character of the 
 Christian religion : Christiana rcligio absoluta et simplex, was Ammianus 
 Marcellinus's description of it, who was himself a heathen. — W. 
 Wotton. 
 
 By this is understood the first introducing of pageantry, and unneces- 
 sary ornaments in the Church, such as were neither for convenience nor 
 edification, as a Shoulder-knot, in which there is neither symmetry nor 
 use. 
 
 1 When the Papists cannot find anything which they want in Scrip- 
 ture, they go to Oral Tradition : thus Peter is introduced satisfied with 
 the tedious way of looking for all the letters of any word, which he has 
 occasion for in the Will, when neither the constituent syllables, nor much 
 less the whole word, were there in terminis. — W. Wotton,
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 65 
 
 the former evasion, took heart, and said, "Brothers, there are 
 yet hopes ; for though we cannot find them totidem verbis, 
 nor totidem syllabis, I dare engage we shall make them out, 
 tertio modo, or totidem Uteris:' This discovery was also 
 highly commended, upon which they fell once more to the 
 scrutiny, and picked outS,H,0,U,L,D,E,R; when the same 
 planet, enemy to their repose, had wonderfully contrived, that 
 a K was not to be found. Here was a weighty difficulty ! 
 But the distinguishing brother, (for whom we shall hereafter 
 find a name,) now his hand was in, proved by a very good 
 argument, that K was a modern, illegitimate letter, unknown 
 to the learned ages, nor anywhere to be found in ancient 
 manuscripts. "Tis true," said he, "Calendar hath in Q. V.C. 1 
 been sometimes writ with a K, but erroneously; for, in the 
 best copies, it ever spelt with a C. And, by consequence, it 
 was a gross mistake in our language to spell ' knot ' with 
 a K;" but that from henceforward, he would take care 
 it should be writ with a C. Upon this all farther difficulty 
 vanished ; shoulder-knots were made clearly out to be jure 
 iaterno: and our three gentlemen swaggered with as large 
 and as flaunting ones as the best. 
 
 But, as human happiness is of a very short duration, so in 
 those days were human fashions, upon which it entirely 
 depends. Shoulder-knots had their time, and we must now 
 imagine them in their decline ; for a certain lord came just 
 from Paris, with fifty yards of gold lace upon his coat, 
 exactly trimmed after the court fashion of that month. In 
 two days all mankind appeared closed up in bars of gold 
 lace : 2 whoever durst peep abroad without his complement of 
 gold lace, was as scandalous as a — , and as ill received 
 among the women. What should our three knights do in 
 this momentous affair? They had sufficiently strained a 
 point already in the affair of shoulder-knots. Upon recourse 
 to the will, nothing appeared there but altuni silentium. 
 That of the shoulder-knots was a loose, flying, circumstantial 
 point; but this of gold lace seemed too considerable an 
 alteration without better warrant. It did aliquo modo essentia 
 
 1 Quibusdam veteribus codicibus ; i.e. some ancient manuscripts. 
 
 2 I cannot tell whether the author means any new innovation by this 
 word, or whether it be only to introduce the new methods of forcing and 
 perverting scripture. 
 
 I. F
 
 66 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 adkcerere, and therefore required a positive precept. But 
 about this time it fell out, that the learned brother aforesaid 
 had read " Aristotelis Dialectica" and especially that wonder- 
 ful piece de Interpretation, which has the faculty of teaching 
 its readers to find out a meaning in everything but itself, like 
 commentators on the Revelations, who proceed prophets with- 
 out understanding a syllable of the text. " Brothers," said 
 he, "you are to be informed, 1 that of wills duo sunt genera, 
 nuncupatory 2 and scriptory; that in the scriptory will here 
 before us, there is no precept or mention about gold lace, 
 conceditur: but, si idem affirmetur de nuncupatorio, negatur. 
 For, brothers, if you remember, we heard a fellow say, when 
 we were boys, that he heard my father's man say, that he 
 heard my father say, that he would advise his sons to get 
 gold lace on their coats, as soon as ever they could procure 
 money to buy it." "By G — ! that is very true," cries the 
 other; "I remember it perfectly well," said the third. And 
 so without more ado got the largest gold lace in the parish, 
 and walked about as fine as lords. 
 
 A while after there came up all in fashion a pretty sort of 
 flame-coloured satin 3 for linings ; and the mercer brought a 
 pattern of it immediately to our three gentlemen: "An 
 please your worships," said he, 4 " my Lord C and Sir 
 
 1 The next subject of our author's wit is the glosses and interpretations 
 of scripture ; very many absurd ones of which are allowed in the most 
 authentic books of the Church of Rome. — W. Wotton. 
 
 2 By this is meant tradition, allowed to have equal authority with the 
 scripture, or rather greater. 
 
 3 This is purgatory, whereof he speaks more particularly hereafter; 
 but here, only to shew how scripture was perverted to prove it, which 
 was done by giving equal authority with the canon to Apocrypha, called 
 here a codicil annexed. 
 
 It is likely the author, in every one of these changes in the brothers' 
 dresses, refers to some particular error in the Church of Rome, though 
 it is not easy, I think, to apply them all : but by this of flame-coloured 
 satin, is manifestly intended purgatory ; by gold lace may perhaps be 
 understood, the lofty ornaments and plate in the churches; the shoulder- 
 knots and silver fringe are not so obvious, at least to me; but the Indian 
 figures of men, women, and children, plainly relate to the pictures in 
 the Romish churches, of God like an old man, of the Virgin Mary, and 
 our Saviour as a child. 
 
 4 This shews the time the author writ, it being about fourteen years 
 since those two persons were reckoned the fine gentlemen of the town. 
 
 Ibid. Lord Cutts and Sir John Walters; see "Journal to Stella," 
 pp. 267 and 252. [W. S. J.]
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 6j 
 
 J. W. had linings out of this very piece last night; it takes 
 wonderfully, and I shall not have a remnant left enough to 
 make my wife a pin-cushion, by to-morrow morning at ten 
 o'clock." Upon this, they fell again to rummage the will, 
 because the present case also required a positive precept, the 
 lining being held by orthodox writers to be of the essence of 
 the coat. After long search, they could fix upon nothing to 
 the matter in hand, except a short advice of their father's in 
 the will, to take care of fire, and put out their candles be- 
 fore they went to sleep. 1 This, though a good deal for the 
 purpose, and helping very far towards self-conviction, yet not 
 seeming wholly of force to establish a command; and 
 being resolved to avoid farther scruple, as well as future 
 occasion for scandal, says he that was the scholar, " I re- 
 member to have read in wills of a codicil annexed, which is 
 indeed a part of the will, and what it contains hath equal 
 authority with the rest. Now, I have been considering of 
 this same will here before us, and I cannot reckon it to be 
 complete for want of such a codicil : I will therefore fasten 
 one in its proper place very dexterously : I have had it by 
 me some time; it was written by a dog-keeper of my grand- 
 father's, 2 and talks a great deal, (as good luck would have it,) 
 of this very flame-coloured satin." The project was immedi- 
 ately approved by the other two; an old parchment scroll 
 was tagged on according to art, in the form of a codicil 
 annexed, and the satin bought and worn. 
 
 Next winter a player, hired for the purpose by the corpora- 
 tion of fringe-makers, acted his part in a new comedy, all 
 covered with silver fringe, 3 and, according to the laudable 
 custom, gave rise to that fashion. Upon which the brothers, 
 consulting their father's will, to their great astonishment 
 found these words; "Item, I charge and command my said 
 three sons to wear no sort of silver fringe upon or about 
 their said coats," etc., with a penalty, in case of disobedience, 
 too long here to insert. However, after some pause, the 
 
 1 That is, to take care of hell; and, in order to do that, to subdue 
 and extinguish their lusts. 
 
 2 I believe this refers to that part of the Apocrypha, where mention 
 is made of Tobit and his dog. 
 
 This is certainly the farther introducing the pomps of habit and orna- 
 ment.
 
 68 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 brother so often mentioned for his erudition, who was well 
 skilled in criticisms, had found in a certain author, which he 
 said should be nameless, that the same word, which, in the 
 will, is called fringe, does also signify a broom-stick, and 
 doubtless ought to have the same interpretation in this para- 
 graph. This another of the brothers disliked, because of 
 that epithet silver, which could not, he humbly conceived, in 
 propriety of speech, be reasonably applied to a broom-stick; 
 but it was replied upon him, that his epithet was understood 
 in a mythological and allegorical sense. However, he 
 objected again, why their father should forbid them to wear 
 a broom-stick on their coats, a caution that seemed un- 
 natural and impertinent; upon which he was taken up short, 
 as one who spoke irreverently of a mystery, which doubtless 
 was very useful and significant, but ought not to be over- 
 curiously pried into, or nicely reasoned upon. And, in 
 short, their father's authority being now considerably sunk, 
 this expedient was allowed to serve as a lawful dispensation 
 for wearing their full proportion of silver fringe. 
 
 A while after was revived an old fashion, long antiquated, 
 of embroidery with Indian figures of men, women, and 
 children. 1 Here they remembered but too well how their 
 father had always abhorred this fashion ; 2 that he made 
 several paragraphs on purpose, importing his utter detestation 
 of it, and bestowing his everlasting curse to his sons, when- 
 ever they should wear it. For all this, in a few days they 
 appeared higher in the fashion than anybody else in the town. 
 But they solved the matter by saying, that these figures were 
 not at all the same with those that were formerly worn, and 
 were meant in the will. Besides, they did not wear them in 
 the sense as forbidden by their father; but as they were a 
 commendable custom, and of great use to the public. 3 That 
 these rigorous clauses in the will did therefore require some 
 
 1 The images of saints, the blessed Virgin, and our Saviour an infant. 
 Ibid. Images in the Church of Rome give him but too fair a handle. 
 
 The brothers remembered, &c. The allegory here is direct. — W. 
 Wotton. 
 
 2 Here they had no occasion to examine the will : they remembered, 
 etc. — First four editions. [T. S.] 
 
 3 The excuse made for the worship of images by the Church of Rome, 
 that they were used, not as idols, but as helps to devotional recollection 
 of those whom they represented. [S.]
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 69 
 
 allowance, and a favourable interpretation, and ought to be 
 understood cum grano salis. 
 
 But fashions perpetually altering in that age, the scholastic 
 brother grew weary of searching farther evasions, and solving 
 everlasting contradictions. Resolved, therefore, at all hazards, 
 to comply with the modes of the world, they concerted 
 matters together, and agreed unanimously to lock up their 
 father's will in a strong box, 1 brought out of Greece or Italy, 
 (I have forgot which,) and trouble themselves no farther to 
 examine it, but only refer to its authority whenever they 
 thought fit. In consequence whereof, a while after it grew a 
 general mode to wear an infinite number of points, most of 
 them tagged with silver : upon which, the scholar pronounced 
 ex cathedra? that points were absolutely jure paterno, as they 
 might very well remember. 'Tis true, indeed, the fashion 
 prescribed somewhat more than were directly named in the 
 will ; however, that they, as heirs-general of their father, had 
 power to make and add certain clauses for public emolument, 
 though not deducible, totidem verbis, from the letter of the 
 will, or else multa absurda sequerentur. This was under- 
 stood for canonical, and therefore, on the following Sunday, 
 they came to church all covered with points. 
 
 The learned brother, so often mentioned, was reckoned 
 the best scholar in all that, or the next street to it ; inso- 
 much as, having run something behind-hand in the world, 
 he obtained the favour of a certain lord, 3 to receive him into 
 his house, and to teach his children. A while after the lord 
 died, and he, by long practice of his father's will, found the 
 
 1 The Papists formerly forbade the people the use of scripture in the 
 vulgar tongue : Peter therefore locks up his father's will in a strong box, 
 brought out of Greece or Italy : these countries are named, because the 
 New Testament is written in Greek ; and the vulgar Latin, which is the 
 authentic edition of the Bible in the Church of Rome, is in the language 
 of old Italy. — W. Wotton. 
 
 2 The popes, in their decretals and bulls, have given their sanction to 
 very many gainful doctrines, which are now received in the Church of 
 Rome, that are not mentioned in scripture, and are unknown to the 
 primitive church. Peter, accordingly, pronounces ex cathedra, that 
 points tagged with silver were absolutely jure paterno ; and so they wore 
 them in great numbers. — W. Wotton. 
 
 3 This was Constantine the Great, from whom the popes pretend a 
 donation of St. Peter's patrimony, which they have been never able to 
 produce.
 
 70 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 way of contriving a deed of conveyance of that house to 
 himself and his heirs ; upon which he took possession, turned 
 the young squires out, and received his brothers in their 
 stead. 1 
 
 SECT. III. 
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 
 
 Though I have been hitherto as cautious as I could, upon 
 all occasions, most nicely to follow the rules and methods of 
 writing laid down by the example of our illustrious moderns ; 
 yet has the unhappy shortness of my memory led me into 
 an error, from which I must extricate myself, before I can 
 decently pursue my principal subject. I confess with shame, 
 it was an unpardonable omission to proceed so far as I have 
 already done, before I had performed the due discourses, 
 expostulatory, supplicatory, or deprecatory, with my good 
 lords the critics. Towards some atonement for this grievous 
 neglect, I do here make humbly bold, to present them with 
 a short account of themselves, and their art, by looking into 
 the original and pedigree of the word, as it is generally un- 
 derstood among us ; and very briefly considering the ancient 
 and present state thereof. 
 
 By the word critic, at this day so frequent in all conversa- 
 tions, there have sometimes been distinguished three very 
 different species of mortal men, according as I have read in 
 ancient books and pamphlets. For first, by this term was 
 understood such persons as invented or drew up rules for 
 themselves and the world, by observing which, a careful 
 reader might be able to pronounce upon the productions of 
 the learned, from his taste to a true relish of the sublime and 
 
 1 The bishops of Rome enjoyed their privileges in Rome at first, by 
 the favour of emperors, whom at last they shut out of their own capital 
 city, and then forged a donation from Constantine the Great, the better 
 to justify what they did. In imitation of this, Peter, having run some- 
 thing behind-hand in the world, obtained leave of a certain lord, &c— 
 W. WOTTON.
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. ?I 
 
 the admirable, and divide every beauty of matter, or of style, 
 from the corruption that apes it. In their common perusal 
 of books, singling out the errors and defects, the nauseous, 
 che fulsome, the dull, and the impertinent, with the caution 
 of a man that walks through Edinburgh streets in a morning, 
 who is indeed as careful as he can to watch diligently, and 
 spy out the filth in his way ; not that he is curious to observe 
 the colour and complexion of the ordure, or take its dimen- 
 sions, much less to be paddling in, or tasting it ; but only 
 with a design to come out as cleanly as he may. These may 
 seem, though very erroneously, to have understood the ap- 
 pellation of critic in a literal sense ; that one principal part 
 of his office was to praise and acquit ; and that a critic, who 
 sets up to read only for an occasion of censure and reproof, is 
 a creature as barbarous as a judge, who should take up a 
 resolution to hang all men that came before him upon a 
 trial. 
 
 Again, by the word critic have been meant, the restorers 
 of ancient learning from the worms, and graves, and dust of 
 manuscripts. 
 
 Now the races of those two have been for some ages ut- 
 terly extinct ; and besides, to discourse any farther of them, 
 would not be at all to my purpose. 
 
 The third and noblest sort, is that of the TRUE CRITIC, 
 whose original is the most ancient of all. Every true critic 
 is a hero born, descending in a direct line, from a celestial 
 stem by Momus and Hybris, who begat Zoilus, who begat 
 Tigellius, who begat Etcsetera the elder ; who begat Bentley, 
 and Rymer, and Wotton, and Perrault, and Dennis; who 
 begat Etcsetera the younger. 
 
 And these are the critics, from whom the commonwealth 
 of learning has in all ages received such immense benefits, 
 that the gratitude of their admirers placed their origin in 
 Heaven, among those of Hercules, Theseus, Perseus, and 
 other great deservers of mankind. But heroic virtue itself, 
 hath not been exempt from the obloquy of evil tongues. 
 For it hath been objected, that those ancient heroes, famous 
 for their combating so many giants, and dragons, and 
 robbers, were in their own persons a greater nuisance to 
 mankind, than any of those monsters they subdued ; and 
 therefore to render their obligations more complete, when all
 
 72 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 other vermin were destroyed, should, in conscience, have 
 concluded with the same justice upon themselves. Hercules ] 
 most generously did, and hath upon that score procured to 
 himself more temples and votaries, than the best of his 
 fellows. For these reasons, I suppose it is, why some have 
 conceived, it would be very expedient for the public good of 
 learning, that every true critic, as soon as he had finished his 
 task assigned, should immediately deliver himself up to rats- 
 bane, or hemp, or leap from some convenient altitude ; and 
 that no man's pretensions to so illustrious a character should 
 by any means be received, before that operation were per- 
 formed. 
 
 Now, from this heavenly descent of criticism, and the close 
 analogy it bears to heroic virtue, it is easy to assign the proper 
 employment of a true ancient genuine critic ; which is, to 
 travel through this vast world of writings ; to pursue and hunt 
 those monstrous faults bred within them ; to drag out the 
 lurking errors, like Cacus from his den ; to multiply them like 
 Hydra's heads ; and rake them together like Augeas's dung ; 
 or else drive away a sort of dangerous fowl, who have a per- 
 verse inclination to plunder the best branches of the tree 
 of knowledge, like those stymphalian birds that eat up the 
 fruit. 
 
 These reasonings will furnish us with an adequate defini- 
 tion of a true critic : that he is discoverer and collector of 
 writers' faults ; which may be farther put beyond dispute by 
 the following demonstration : — That whoever will examine the 
 writings in all kinds, wherewith this ancient sect has honoured 
 the world, shall immediately find, from the whole thread and 
 tenor of them, that the ideas of the authors have been alto- 
 gether conversant and taken up, with the faults, and blemishes, 
 and oversights, and mistakes of other writers ; and, let the 
 subject treated on be whatever it will, their imaginations are 
 so entirely possessed and replete with the defects of other 
 pens, that the very quintessence of what is bad, does of neces- 
 sity distil into their own ; by which means the whole appears 
 to be nothing else but an abstract of the criticisms themselves 
 have made. 
 
 Having thus briefly considered the original and office of a 
 
 1 As Hercules. — First Edition. [T. S.]
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. ?3 
 
 critic, as the word is understood in its most noble and 
 universal acceptation, I proceed to refute the objections of 
 those who argue from the silence and pretermission of 
 •iuthors ; by which they pretend to prove, that the very art 
 of criticism, as now exercised, and by me explained, is wholly 
 modern ; and consequently, that the critics of Great Britain 
 and France have no title to an original so ancient and illus- 
 trious as I have deduced. Now, if I can clearly make out, 
 on the contrary, that the most ancient writers have particu- 
 larly described both the person and the office of a true 
 critic, agreeable to the definition laid down by me, their 
 grand objection, from the silence of authors, will fall to the 
 ground. 
 
 I confess to have, for a long time, borne a part in this 
 general error : from which I should never have acquitted my- 
 self, but through the assistance of our noble moderns ! whose 
 most edifying volumes I turn undefatigably over night and 
 day, for the improvement of my mind, and the good of my 
 country. These have, with unwearied pains, made many 
 useful searches into the weak sides of the ancients, and given 
 us a comprehensive list of them. 1 Besides, they have proved 
 beyond contradiction, that the very finest things delivered of 
 old, have been long since invented, and brought to light by 
 much later pens ; and that the noblest discoveries those 
 ancients ever made, of art or nature, have all been produced 
 by the transcending genius of the present age. Which clearly 
 shews, how little merit those ancients can justly pretend to ; 
 and takes off that blind admiration paid them by men in a 
 corner, who have the unhappiness of conversing too little 
 with present things. Reflecting maturely upon all this, and 
 taking in the whole compass of human nature, I easily con- 
 cluded, that these ancients, highly sensible of their many im- 
 perfections, must needs have endeavoured, from some passages 
 in their works, to obviate, soften, or divert the censorious 
 reader, by satire, or panegyric upon the critics, in imitation of 
 their masters, the moderns. Now, in the common-places of 
 both these, 2 I was plentifully instructed, by a long course of 
 useful study in prefaces and prologues ; and therefore imme- 
 diately resolved to try what I could discover of either, by a 
 
 1 See Wotton of Ancient and Modern Learning. 
 8 Satire and Panegyric upon Critics.
 
 74 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 diligent perusal of the most ancient writers, and especially 
 those who treated of the earliest times. Here I found, to 
 my great surprise, that although they all entered, upon occa- 
 sion, into particular descriptions of the true critic, according 
 as they were governed by their fears or their hopes; yet, 
 whatever they touched of that kind, was with abundance of 
 caution, adventuring no farther than mythology and hiero- 
 glyphic. This, I suppose, gave ground to superficial readers, 
 for urging the silence of authors, against the antiquity of the 
 true critic, though the types are so apposite, and the applica- 
 tions so necessary and natural, that it is not easy to conceive 
 how any reader of a modern eye and taste could overlook 
 them. I shall venture from a great number to produce a 
 few, which, I am very confident, will put this question be- 
 yond dispute. 
 
 It well deserves considering, that these ancient writers, in 
 treating enigmatically upon the subject, have generally fixed 
 upon the very same hieroglyph, varying only the story, accord- 
 ing to their affections, or their wit. For first ; Pausanias is 
 of opinion, that the perfection of writing correct was entirely 
 owing to the institution of critics ; and, that he can possibly 
 mean no other than the true critic, is, I think, manifest 
 enough from the following description. He says, they were 
 a race of men, who delighted to nibble at the superfluities, 
 and excrescencies of books ; which the learned at length 
 observing, took warning, of their own accord, to lop the 
 luxuriant, the rotten, the dead, the sapless, and the over- 
 grown branches from their works. But now, all this he 
 cunningly shades under the following allegory ; that the 
 Nauplians in Argia learned the art of pruning their vines, by 
 observing, that when an ASS had browsed upon one of 
 them, it thrived the better, and bore fairer fruit. But 
 Herodotus, 1 holding the very same hieroglyph, speaks much 
 plainer, and almost in terminis. He hath been so bold as 
 to tax the true critics of ignorance and malice; telling us 
 openly, for I think nothing can be plainer, that in the 
 western part of Libya, there were ASSES with HORNS ; 
 upon which relation Ctesias 2 yet refines, mentioning the very 
 same animal about India, adding, that whereas all other 
 
 1 Lib. 4. 2 Vide excerpta ex eo apud Fhotium.
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 75 
 
 ASSES wanted a gall, these horned ones were so redundant 
 in that part, that their flesh was not to be eaten, because of 
 its extreme bitterness. 
 
 Now, the reason why those ancient writers treated this 
 subject only by types and figures, was, because they durst 
 not make open attacks against a party so potent and terrible, 
 as the critics of those ages were ; whose very voice was so 
 dreadful, that a legion of authors would tremble, and drop 
 their pens at the sound ; for so Herodotus l tells us expressly 
 in another place, how a vast army of Scythians was put to 
 flight in a panic terror, by the braying of an ASS. From 
 hence it is conjectured by certain profound philologers, that 
 the great awe and reverence paid to a true critic, by the 
 writers of Britain, have been derived to us from those our 
 Scythian ancestors. In short, this dread was so universal, 
 that in process of time, those authors, who had a mind to 
 publish their sentiments more freely, in describing the true 
 critics of their several ages, were forced to leave off the use 
 of the former hieroglyph, as too nearly approaching the 
 prototype, and invented other terms instead thereof, that 
 were more cautious and mystical. So, Diodorus, speaking 
 to the same purpose, ventures no farther, than to say, that in 
 the mountains of Helicon, there grows a certain weed, which 
 bears a flower of so damned a scent, as to poison those who 
 offer to smell it. Lucretius gives exactly the same relation : 
 
 Est etiam in magnis Heliconis montibus arbos, 
 Floris odore hominem tetro consueta necare. 2 
 
 Lib. 6. 
 
 But Ctesias, whom we lately quoted, hath been a great 
 deal bolder ; he had been used with much severity by the 
 true critics of his own age, and therefore could not forbear to 
 leave behind him, at least one deep mark of his vengeance 
 against the whole tribe. His meaning is so near the surface, 
 that I wonder how it possibly came to be overlooked by 
 those who deny the antiquity of true critics. For, pretend- 
 ing to make a description of many strange animals about 
 India, he hath set down these remarkable words : " Among 
 
 1 Lib. 4. 
 
 2 Near Helicon, and round the learned hill, 
 Grow trees, whose blossoms with their odour kill.
 
 Jb A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 the rest," says he, " there is a serpent that wants teeth, and 
 consequently cannot bite ; but if its vomit, (to which it is 
 much addicted,) happens to fall upon anything, a certain 
 rottenness or corruption ensues. These serpents are gene- 
 rally found among the mountains, where jewels grow, and 
 they frequently emit a poisonous juice : whereof whoever 
 drinks, that person's brains fly out of his nostrils." 
 
 There was also among the ancients a sort of critics, not 
 distinguished in species from the former, but in growth or 
 degree, who seem to have been only the tyros or junior 
 scholars ; yet, because of their differing employments, they 
 are frequently mentioned as a sect by themselves. The 
 usual exercise of these younger students, was, to attend 
 constantly at theatres, and learn to spy out the worst parts of 
 the play, whereof they were obliged carefully to take note, 
 and render a rational account to their tutors. Fleshed at 
 these smaller sports, like young wolves, they grew up in time 
 to be nimble and strong enough for hunting down large 
 game. For it hath been observed, both among ancients and 
 moderns, that a true critic hath one quality in common with 
 a whore and an alderman, never to change his title or his 
 nature ; that a gray critic has been certainly a green one, 
 the perfections and acquirements of his age being only the 
 improved talents of his youth; like hemp, which some 
 naturalists inform us is bad for suffocations, though taken 
 but in the seed. I esteem the invention, or at least the re- 
 finement of prologues, to have been owing to these younger 
 proficients, of whom Terence makes frequent and honour- 
 able mention, under the name of malevoli. 
 
 Now, 'tis certain, the institution of the true critics was of 
 absolute necessity to the commonwealth of learning. For all 
 human actions seem to be divided, like Themistocles and 
 his company ; one man can fiddle, and another can make a 
 small town a great city ; and he that cannot do either one or 
 the other, deserves to be kicked out of the creation. The 
 avoiding of which penalty, has doubtless given the first birth 
 to the nation of critics; and withal, an occasion for their 
 secret detractors to report, that a true critic is a sort of 
 mechanic, set up with a stock and tools for his trade, at as 
 little expense as a tailor ; and that there is much analogy be- 
 tween the utensils and abilities of both : that the tailor's hell is
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. TJ 
 
 the type of a critic's common-place book, and his wit and 
 learning held forth by the goose ; that it requires at least as 
 many of these to the making up of one scholar, as of the 
 others to the composition of a man ; that the valour of both 
 is equal, and their weapons near of a size. Much may be 
 said in answer to those invidious reflections ; and I can 
 positively affirm the first to be a falsehood : for, on the 
 contrary, nothing is more certain, than that it requires greater 
 layings out, to be free of the critic's company, than of any 
 other you can name. For, as to be a true beggar, it will 
 cost the richest candidate every groat he is worth ; so, before 
 one can commence a true critic, it will cost a man all the 
 good qualities of his mind ; which, perhaps for a less 
 purchase, would be thought but an indifferent bargain. 
 
 Having thus amply proved the antiquity of criticism, and 
 described the primitive state of it, I shall now examine the 
 present condition of this empire, and shew how well it 
 agrees with its ancient self. A certain author, 1 whose works 
 have many ages since been entirely lost, does, in his fifth 
 book, and eighth chapter, say of critics, that their writings 
 are the mirrors of learning. This I understand in a literal 
 sense, and suppose our author must mean, that whoever 
 designs to be a perfect writer, must inspect into the books of 
 critics, and correct his invention there, as in a mirror. Now, 
 whoever considers, that the mirrors of the ancients were 
 made of brass, and sine mercurio, may presently apply the 
 two principal qualifications of a true modern critic, and con- 
 sequently must needs conclude, that these have always been, 
 and must be for ever the same. For brass is an emblem of 
 duration, and, when it is skilfully burnished, will cast re- 
 flections from its own superficies, without any assistance of 
 mercury from behind. All the other talents of a critic will 
 not require a particular mention, being included, or easily 
 deducible to these. However, I shall conclude with three 
 maxims, which may serve both as characteristics to dis- 
 tinguish a true modern critic from a pretender, and will be 
 also of admirable use to those worthy spirits, who engage in 
 so useful and honourable an art. 
 
 The first is, that criticism, contrary to all other faculties of 
 
 1 A quotation after the manner of a great author. Vide Bentley's 
 Dissertation, &c.
 
 78 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 the intellect, is ever held the truest and best, when it is the 
 very first result of the critic's mind ; as fowlers reckon the 
 first aim for the surest, and seldom fail of missing the mark, 
 if they stay for a second. 
 
 Secondly, the true critics are known, by their talents of 
 swarming about the noblest writers, to which they are 
 carried merely by instinct, as a rat to the best cheese, or a 
 wasp to the fairest fruit. So when the king is on horse- 
 back, he is sure to be the dirtiest person of the company ; 
 and they that make their court best, are such as bespatter 
 him most. 
 
 Lastly, a true critic, in the perusal of a book, is like a dog 
 at a feast, whose thoughts and stomach are wholly set upon 
 what the guests fling away, and consequently is apt to snarl 
 most when there are the fewest bones. 
 
 Thus much, I think, is sufficient to serve by way of ad- 
 dress to my patrons, the true modern critics ; and may very 
 well atone for my past silence, as well as that which I am 
 like to observe for the future. I hope I have deserved so 
 well of their whole body, as to meet with generous and 
 tender usage from their hands. Supported by which ex- 
 pectation, I go on boldly to pursue those adventures, already 
 so happily begun. 
 
 SECT. IV. 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 I have now, with much pains and study, conducted the 
 reader to a period, where he must expect to hear of great 
 revolutions. For no sooner had our learned brother, so often 
 mentioned, got a warm house of his own over his head, than 
 he began to look big, and take mightily upon him ; insomuch, 
 that unless the gentle reader, out of his great candour, will 
 please a little to exalt his idea, I am afraid he will henceforth 
 hardly know the hero of the play, when he happens to meet 
 him ; his part, his dress, and his mien being so much altered. 
 He told his brothers, he would have them to know that he
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 79 
 
 was their elder, and consequently his father's sole heir ; nay, 
 a while after, he would not allow them to call him brother, 
 but Mr. PETER; and then he must be styled Father 
 PETER ; and sometimes, My Lord PETER. To support 
 this grandeur, which he soon began to consider could not be 
 maintained without a better fonde than what he was born to, 
 after much thought, he cast about at last to turn projector 
 and virtuoso, wherein he so well succeeded, that many famous 
 discoveries, projects, and machines, which bear great vogue 
 and practice at present in the world, are owing entirely to 
 Lord PETER'S invention. I will deduce the best account 
 I have been able to collect of the chief among them, without 
 considering much the order they came out in ; because, I 
 think, authors are not well agreed as to that point. 
 
 I hope, when this treatise of mine shall be translated into 
 foreign languages (as I may without vanity affirm, that the 
 labour of collecting, the faithfulness in recounting, and the 
 great usefulness of the matter to the public, will amply 
 deserve that justice) that the worthy members of the several 
 academies abroad, especially those of France and Italy, will 
 favourably accept these humble offers, for the advancement 
 of universal knowledge. I do also advertise the most reverend 
 fathers, the Eastern Missionaries, that I have, purely for their 
 sakes, made use of such words and phrases, as will best admit 
 an easy turn into any of the oriental languages, especially the 
 Chinese. And so I proceed with great content of mind, upon 
 reflecting, how much emolument this whole globe of the earth 
 is likely to reap by my labours. 
 
 The first undertaking of Lord Peter, was, to purchase a 
 large continent, 1 lately said to have been discovered in Terra 
 Australis Incognita. This tract of land he bought at a very 
 great penny-worth, from the discoverers themselves, (though 
 some pretend to doubt whether they had ever been there,) 
 and then retailed it into several cantons to certain dealers, 
 who carried over colonies, but were all shipwrecked in the 
 voyage. Upon which Lord Peter sold the said continent to 
 other customers again, and again, and again, and again, with 
 the same success. 
 
 The second project I shall mention, was his sovereign 
 
 1 That is, Purgatory,
 
 80 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 remedy for the worms, 1 especially those in the spleen. The 
 patient was to eat nothing after supper for three nights : 2 as 
 soon as he went to bed, he was carefully to lie on one side, 
 and when he grew weary, to turn upon the other. He must 
 also duly confine his two eyes to the same object : and by no 
 means break wind at both ends together, without manifest 
 occasion. These prescriptions diligently observed, the worms 
 would void insensibly by perspiration, ascending through the 
 brain. 
 
 A third invention was the erecting of a whispering-office, 3 for 
 the public good, and ease of all such as are hypochondriacal, 
 or troubled with the colic ; as midwives, 4 small politicians, 
 friends fallen out, repeating poets, lovers happy or in despair, 
 bawds, privy-counsellors, pages, parasites, and buffoons : in 
 short, of all such as are in danger of bursting with too much 
 wind. An ass's head was placed so conveniently, that the 
 party affected, might easily with his mouth accost either of 
 the animal's ears ; to which he was to apply close for a 
 certain space, and by a fugitive faculty, peculiar to the ears of 
 that animal, receive immediate benefit, either by eructation, 
 or expiration, or evomitation. 
 
 Another very beneficial project of Lord Peter's was, an 
 office of insurance for tobacco-pipes, 5 martyrs of the modern 
 
 zeal, volumes of poetry, shadows, and rivers : that 
 
 these, nor any of these, shall receive damage by fire. From 
 whence our friendly societies may plainly find themselves to 
 be only transcribers from this original ; though the one and 
 the other have been of great benefit to the undertakers, as 
 well as of equal to the public. 
 
 Lord Peter was also held the original author of puppets 
 
 1 Penance and absolution are played upon under the notion of a 
 sovereign remedy for the worms, especially in the spleen, which, by 
 observing Peter's prescription, would void, sensibly by perspiration, 
 ascending through the brain, &c. — W. Wotton. 
 
 2 Here the author ridicules the penances of the Church of Rome, 
 which may be made as easy to the sinner as he pleases, provided he will 
 pay for them accordingly. 
 
 3 By his whispering-office, for the relief of eaves-droppers, physicians, 
 bawds, and privy-counsellors, he ridicules auricular confession ; and 
 the priest who takes it, is described by the ass's head. — W. Wotton. 
 
 4 As likewise of all eves-droppers, physicians, midwives, &c. — First 
 four editions. [T. S. ] 
 
 5 This I take to be the office of indulgences, the gross abuses whereof 
 first gave occasion for the Reformation.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 8 1 
 
 and raree-shows ; ' the great usefulness whereof being so 
 generally known, I shall not enlarge farther upon this par- 
 ticular. 
 
 But another discovery, for which he was much renowned, 
 was his famous universal pickle. 2 For, having remarked how 
 your common pickle, 3 in use among housewives, was of no 
 farther benefit than to preserve dead flesh, and certain kinds 
 of vegetables, Peter, with great cost as well as art, had 
 contrived a pickle proper for houses, gardens, towns, men, 
 women, children, and cattle ; wherein he could preserve them 
 as sound as insects in amber. Now, this pickle to the taste, 
 the smell, and the sight, appeared exactly the same with what 
 is in common service for beef, and butter, and herrings (and 
 has been often that way applied with great success); but, for 
 its many sovereign virtues, was a quite different thing. For 
 Peter would put in a certain quantity of his powder pimper- 
 limpimp, 1 after which it never failed of success. The opera- 
 tion was performed by spargefaction, 5 in a proper time of the 
 moon. The patient, who was to be pickled, if it were a 
 house, would infallibly be preserved from all spiders, rats, 
 and weasels. If the party affected were a dog, he should be 
 exempt from mange, and madness, and hunger. It also 
 infallibly took away all scabs, and lice, and scalled heads 
 from children, never hindering the patient from any duty, 
 either at bed or board. 
 
 But of all Peter's rarities, he most valued a certain set of 
 bulls/ whose race was by great fortune preserved in a lineal 
 
 1 I believe are the monkeries and ridiculous processions, &c. , among 
 the papists. 
 
 2 Holy water, he calls an universal pickle, to preserve houses, gardens, 
 towns, men, women, children, and cattle, wherein he could preserve 
 them as sound as insects in amber. — W. Wotton. 
 
 3 This is easily understood to be holy water, composed of the same 
 ingredients with many other pickles. 
 
 4 And because holy water differs only in consecration from common 
 water, therefore he tells us that his pickle by the powder of pimper- 
 limpimp receives new virtues, though it differs not in sight nor smell 
 from the common pickles, which preserve beef, and butter, and herrings. 
 — W. Wotton. 
 
 6 Sprinkling. [H.] 
 
 6 The papal bulls are ridiculed by name, so that here we are at no 
 loss for the author's meaning. — W. Wotton. 
 Ibid. Here the author has kept the name, and means the pope's 
 I. G
 
 82 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 descent from those that guarded the golden fleece. Though 
 some, who pretended to observe them curiously, doubted the 
 breed had not been kept entirely chaste ; because they had 
 degenerated from their ancestors in some qualities, and had 
 acquired others very extraordinary, by a foreign mixture. 
 The bulls of Colchis are recorded to have brazen feet ; but 
 whether it happened by ill pasture and running, by an allay 
 from intervention of other parents, from stolen intrigues; 
 whether a weakness in their progenitors had impaired the 
 seminal virtue, or by a decline necessary through a long 
 course of time, the originals of nature being depraved in these 
 latter sinful ages of the world ; whatever was the cause, it is 
 certain, that Lord Peter's bulls were extremely vitiated by the 
 rust of time in the metal of their feet, which was now sunk 
 into common lead. However, the terrible roaring, peculiar 
 to their lineage, was preserved ; as likewise that faculty of 
 breathing out fire from their nostrils ; which, notwithstanding, 
 many of their detractors took to be a feat of art; to be no- 
 thing so terrible as it appeared ; proceeding only from their 
 usual course of diet, which was of squibs and crackers. 1 
 However, they had two peculiar marks, which extremely 
 distinguished them from the bulls of Jason, and which I have 
 not met together in the description of any other monster, 
 beside that in Horace ; — 
 
 Farias inducere plumas ; 
 
 and 
 Atrum definit in piscem. 
 
 For these had fishes' tails, yet upon occasion could outfly any 
 bird in the air. Peter put these bulls upon several employs. 
 Sometimes he would set them a-roaring to fright naughty 
 boys, 2 and make them quiet. Sometimes he would send 
 them out upon errands of great importance; where, it is 
 wonderful to recount, and perhaps the cautious reader may 
 think much to believe it, an appetitus sensibilis, deriving itself 
 through the whole family from their noble ancestors, guardians 
 
 bulls, or rather his fulminations, and excommunications of heretical 
 princes, all signed with lead, and the seal of the fisherman. 
 
 1 These are the fulminations of the pope, threatening hell and dam- 
 nation to those princes who offend him. 
 
 2 That is, kings who incur his displeasure.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 83 
 
 of the golden fleece, they continued so extremely fond of gold, 
 that if Peter sent them abroad, though it were only upon a 
 compliment, they would roar, and spit, and belch, and piss, 
 and fart, and snivel out fire, and keep a perpetual coil, till 
 you flung them a bit of gold ; but then, pulveris exigui 
 jactu, they would grow calm and quiet as lambs. In short, 
 whether by secret connivance, or encouragement from their 
 master, or out of their own liquorish affection to gold, or both, it 
 is certain they were no better than a sort of sturdy, swaggering 
 beggars ; and where they could not prevail to get an alms, 
 would make women miscarry, and children fall into fits, who 
 to this very day, usually call sprights and hobgoblins by the 
 name of bull-beggars. They grew at last so very troublesome 
 to the neighbourhood, that some gentlemen of the north-west 
 got a parcel of right English bull-dogs, and baited them so 
 terribly, that they felt it ever after. 
 
 I must needs mention one more of Lord Peter's pro- 
 jects, which was very extraordinary, and discovered him 
 to be master of a high reach, and profound invention. 
 Whenever it happened, that any rogue of Newgate was con- 
 demned to be hanged, Peter would offer him a pardon for a 
 certain sum of money ; which when the poor caitiff had made 
 all shifts to scrape up, and send, his lordship would return a 
 piece of paper in this form. 1 
 
 " TO all mayors, sheriffs, jailors, constables, bailiffs, hang- 
 men, &c. Whereas we are informed, that A. B. remains in 
 the hands of you, or some of you, under the sentence of 
 death. We will and command you, upon sight hereof, to let 
 the said prisoner depart to his own habitation, whether he 
 stands condemned for murder, sodomy, rape, sacrilege, incest, 
 treason, blasphemy, &c, for which this shall be your sufficient 
 warrant : and if you fail hereof, G — d — mn you and yours 
 to all eternity. And so we bid you heartily farewell. 
 
 Your most humble 
 man's man, 
 
 Emperor PETER." 
 
 The wretches, trusting to this, lost their lives and money 
 too. 
 
 1 This is a copy of a general pardon, signed servus servornm. 
 Ibid. Absolution in articulo mortis, and the tax camera apostolus, 
 are jested upon in Emperor Peter's letter. — W. Wotton.
 
 §4 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 I desire of those, whom the learned among posterity will 
 appoint for commentators upon this elaborate treatise, that 
 they will proceed with great caution upon certain dark points, 
 wherein all, who are not vere adepti, may be in danger to 
 form rash and hasty conclusions, especially in some mysterious 
 paragraphs, were certain arcana are joined for brevity sake, 
 which in the operation must be divided. And I am certain, 
 that future sons of art will return large thanks to my memory, 
 for so grateful, so useful an innuendo. 
 
 It will be no difficult part to persuade the reader, that so 
 many worthy discoveries met with great success in the world ; 
 though I may justly assure him, that I have related much the 
 smallest number ; my design having been only to single out 
 such as will be of most benefit for public imitation, or which 
 best served to give some idea of the reach and wit of the in- 
 ventor. And therefore it need not be wondered at, if, by 
 this time, Lord Peter was become exceeding rich. But, 
 alas ! he had kept his brain so long and so violently upon the 
 rack, that at last it shook itself, and began to turn round for 
 a little ease. In short, what with pride, projects, and knavery, 
 poor Peter was grown distracted, and conceived the strangest 
 imaginations in the world. In the height of his fits, (as it is 
 usual with those who run mad out of pride,) he would call 
 himself God Almighty, 1 and sometimes monarch of the 
 universe. I have seen him (says my author) take three old 
 high-crowned hats, 2 and clap them all on his head three story 
 high, with a huge bunch of keys at his girdle, 3 and an angling- 
 rod in his hand. In which guise, whoever went to take him 
 by the hand in the way of salutation, Peter with much grace, 
 like a well-educated spaniel, would present them with his 
 foot ; * and if they refused his civility, then he would raise it 
 as high as their chaps, and give them a damned kick on the 
 mouth, which hath ever since been called a salute. Who- 
 ever walked by without paying him their compliments, having 
 
 1 The Pope is not only allowed to be the vicar of Christ, but by 
 several divines is called God upon earth, and other blasphemous titles. 
 
 2 The triple crown. 3 The keys of the church. 
 
 Ibid. The Pope's universal monarchy, and his triple crown and fisher's 
 r i n g._W. Wotton. 
 
 4 Neither does his arrogant way of requiring men to kiss his slipper 
 escape reflection.— W. Wotton.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 85 
 
 a wonderful strong breath, he would blow their hats off into 
 the dirt. Meantime his affairs at home went upside down, 
 and his two brothers had a wretched time ; where his first 
 boutade 1 was, to kick both their wives one morning out of 
 doors, and his own too ; 2 and in their stead, gave orders to 
 pick up the first three strollers that could be met with in the 
 streets. A while after he nailed up the cellar-door ; and 
 would not allow his brothers a drop of drink to their victuals. 3 
 Dining one day at an alderman's in the city, Peter observed 
 him expatiating, after the manner of his brethren, in the 
 praises of his sirloin of beef. Beef, said the sage magistrate, 
 is the king of meat; beef comprehends in it the quintessence 
 of partridge, and quail, and venison, and pheasant, and 
 plum-pudding, and custard. When Peter came home, he 
 would needs take the fancy of cooking up this doctrine into 
 use, and apply the precept, in default of a sirloin, to his 
 brown loaf: "Bread," says he, "dear brothers, is the staff 
 of life; in which bread is contained, inclusive, the quintes- 
 sence of beef, mutton, veal, venison, partridge, plum-pudding, 
 and custard : and, to render all complete, there is inter- 
 mingled a due quantity of water, whose crudities are also 
 corrected by yeast or barm ; through which means it becomes 
 a wholesome fermented liquor, diffused through the mass of 
 the bread." Upon the strength of these conclusions, next day 
 at dinner, was the brown loaf served up in all the formality 
 of a city feast. " Come, brothers," said Peter, "fall to, and 
 spare not ; here is excellent good mutton ; 4 or hold, now 
 my hand is in, I will help you." At which word, in much 
 ceremony, with fork and knife, he carves out two good 
 slices of a loaf, and presents each on a plate to his brothers. 
 The elder of the two, not suddenly entering into Lord Peter's 
 
 1 This word properly signifies a sudden jerk, or lash of a horse, when 
 you do not expect it. 
 
 _ 2 The Celibacy of the Romish clergy is struck at in Peter's beating 
 his own and brothers' wives out of doors. — W. Wotton. 
 
 3 The Pope's refusing the cup to the laity, persuading them that the 
 blood is contained in the bread, and that the bread is the real and entire 
 body of Christ. 
 
 4 Transubstantiation. Peter turns his bread into mutton, and accord- 
 ing to the popish doctrine of concomitants, his wine too, which in his 
 way he calls palming his damned crusts upon the brothers for mutton.— 
 W. WoTTON.
 
 86 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 conceit, began with very civil language to examine the 
 mystery. "My lord," said he, " I doubt, with great sub- 
 mission, there may be some mistake." " What," says Peter, 
 "you are pleasant ; come then, let us hear this jest your head 
 is so big with." " None in the world, my lord ; but, unless 
 I am very much deceived, your lordship was pleased a while 
 ago to let fall a word about mutton, and I would be glad to 
 see it with all my heart." " How," said Peter, appearing in 
 great surprise, "I do not comprehend this at all." — Upon 
 which, the younger interposing to set the business aright ; 
 " My lord," said he, " my brother, I suppose, is hungry, 
 and longs for the mutton your lordship has promised us to 
 dinner." " Pray," said Peter, " take me along with you ; 
 either you are both mad, or disposed to be merrier than I ap- 
 prove of. If you there do not like your piece, I will carve 
 you another : though I should take that to be the choice bit 
 of the whole shoulder." " What then, my lord," replied the 
 first, " it seems this is a shoulder of mutton all this while ? " 
 " Pray, sir," says Peter, " eat your victuals, and leave off your 
 impertinence, if you please, for I am not disposed to relish it 
 at present." But the other could not forbear, being over- 
 provoked at the affected seriousness of Peter's countenance. 
 " By G — , my lord," said he, "I can only say, that to my 
 eyes, and fingers, and teeth, and nose, it seems to be nothing 
 but a crust of bread." Upon which the second put in his 
 word : "I never saw a piece of mutton in my life so nearly 
 resembling a slice from a twelve-penny loaf." " Look ye, 
 gentlemen," cries Peter in a rage, " to convince you what a 
 couple of blind, positive, ignorant, wilful puppies you are, I 
 will use but this plain argument ; by G — , it is true, good, 
 natural mutton as any in Leadenhall market ; and G — con- 
 found you both eternally, if you offer to believe otherwise." 
 Such a thundering proof as this left no farther room for ob- 
 jection. The two unbelievers began to gather and pocket 
 up their mistake as hastily as they could. "Why, truly," 
 said the first, "upon more mature consideration" — "Ay," 
 says the other, interrupting him, " now I have thought better 
 on the thing, your lordship seems to have a great deal of 
 reason." " Very well," said Peter ; " here, boy, fill me a 
 beer-glass of claret ; here's to you both, with all my heart." 
 The two brethren, much delighted to see him so readily ap-
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 87 
 
 peased, returned their most humble thanks, and said they 
 would be glad to pledge his lordship. " That you shall," 
 said Peter ; " I am not a person to refuse you anything that 
 is reasonable : wine, moderately taken, is a cordial ; here is 
 a glass a-piece for you ; 'tis true natural juice from the 
 grape, none of your damned vintner's brewings." Having 
 spoke thus, he presented to each of them another large 
 dry crust, bidding them drink it off, and not be bashful, 
 for it would do them no hurt. The two brothers, after having 
 performed the usual office in such delicate conjunctures, 
 of staring a sufficient period at Lord Peter and each other, 
 and finding how matters were likely to go, resolved not to 
 enter on a new dispute, but let him carry the point as he 
 pleased ; for he was now got into one of his mad fits, and to 
 argue or expostulate farther, would only serve to render him 
 a hundred times more untractable. 
 
 I have chosen to relate this worthy matter in all its circum- 
 stances, because it gave a principal occasion to that great 
 and famous rupture, 1 which happened about the same time 
 among these brethren, and was never afterwards made up. 
 But of that I shall treat at large in another section. 
 
 However, it is certain, that Lord Peter, even in his lucid 
 intervals, was very lewdly given in his common conversation, 
 extreme wilful and positive, and would at any time rather 
 argue to the death, than allow himself once to be in an error. 
 Besides, he had an abominable faculty of telling huge pal- 
 pable lies upon all occasions; and not only swearing to the 
 truth, but cursing the whole company to hell, if they pre- 
 tended to make the least scruple of believing him. One time 
 he swore he had a cow 2 at home, which gave as much milk at 
 a meal, as would fill three thousand churches ; and what was 
 yet more extraordinary, would never turn sour. Another 
 time he was telling of an old sign-post, 3 that belonged to his 
 father, with nails and timber enough in it to build sixteen 
 large men-of-war. Talking one day of Chinese waggons, 
 which were made so light as to sail over mountains : — 
 
 1 By thi-; Rupture is meant the Reformation. 
 
 2 The ridiculous multiplying of the Virgin Mary's milk among the 
 papists, under the allegory of a cow, which gave as much milk at a meal 
 as would fill three thousand churches. — W. Wotton. 
 
 3 By the sign-post is meant the cross of our Blessed Saviour.
 
 88 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 "Z ds," said Peter, "where's the wonder of that? By 
 
 G — , I saw a large house of lime and stone 1 travel over sea 
 and land, (granting that it stopped sometimes to bait,) above 
 two thousand German leagues." And that which was the 
 good of it, he would swear desperately all the while, that he 
 never told a lie in his life ; and at every word ; " By G — , 
 gentlemen, I tell you nothing but the truth : and the D — 1 
 broil them eternally, that will not believe me." 
 
 In short, Peter grew so scandalous, that all the neighbour- 
 hood began in plain words to say, he was no better than 
 a knave. And his two brothers, long weary of his ill usage, 
 resolved at last to leave him ; but first, they humbly desired 
 a copy of their father's will, which had now lain by neglected 
 time out of mind. Instead of granting this request, he 
 called them damned sons of whores, rogues, traitors, and 
 the rest of the vile names he could muster up. However, 
 while he was abroad one day upon his projects, the two 
 youngsters watched their opportunity, made a shift to come 
 at the will, 2 and took a copia vera, by which they presently 
 saw how grossly they had been abused ; their father having 
 left them equal heirs, and strictly commanded, that whatever 
 they got, should lie in common among them all. Pursuant 
 to which, their next enterprise was, to break open the cellar- 
 door, and get a little good drink, 3 to spirit and comfort their 
 hearts. In copying the will, they had met another precept 
 against whoring, divorce, and separate maintenance; upon 
 which their next work * was to discard their concubines, and 
 send for their wives. While all this was in agitation, there 
 enters a solicitor from Newgate, desiring Lord Peter would 
 please procure a pardon for a thief that was to be hanged 
 to-morrow. But the two brothers told him, he was a cox- 
 
 1 The chapel of Loretto. He falls here only upon the ridiculous in- 
 ventions of popery : the church of Rome intended by these things to 
 gull silly, superstitious people, and rook them of their money ; that the 
 world had been too long in slavery, our ancestors gloriously redeemed 
 us from that yoke. The church of Rome therefore ought to be exposed, 
 and he deserves well of mankind that does expose it. — W. Wotton. 
 
 Ibid. The chapel of Loretto, which travelled from the Holy Land to 
 Italy. 
 
 2 Translated the scriptures into the vulgar tongues. 
 
 3 Administered the cup to the laity at the communion. 
 * Allowed the marriages of priests.
 
 A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 89 
 
 comb to seek pardons from a fellow who deserved to be 
 hanged much better than his client ; and discovered all the 
 method of that imposture, in the same form I delivered it 
 a while ago, advising the solicitor to put his friend upon 
 obtaining a pardon from the king. 1 In the midst of all this 
 clutter and revolution, in comes Peter with a file of dragoons 
 at his heels, 2 and gathering from all hands what was in the 
 wind, he and his gang, after several millions of scurrilities 
 and curses, not very important here to repeat, by main force 
 very fairly kicked them both out of doors, 3 and would never 
 let them come under his roof from that day to this. 
 
 SECT. V. 
 
 h DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 
 
 We, whom the world is pleased to honour with the title 
 of modern authors, should never have been able to compass 
 our great design of an everlasting remembrance, and never- 
 dying fame, if our endeavours had not been so highly ser- 
 viceable to the general good of mankind. This, O universe ! 
 is the adventurous attempt of me thy secretary ; 
 
 Quemvis perferre laborem 
 
 Suadet, et inducit noctes vigilare serenas. 
 
 To this end, I have some time since, with a world of 
 pains and art, dissected the carcass of human nature, and 
 read many useful lectures upon the several parts, both con- 
 taining and contained ; till at last it smelt so strong, I could 
 preserve it no longer. Upon which, I have been at a great 
 expense to fit up all the bones with exact contexture, and in 
 
 1 Directed penitents not to trust to pardons and absolutions procured 
 for money, but sent them to implore the mercy of God, from whence 
 alone remission is to be obtained. 
 
 8 By Peter's dragoons is meant the civil power, which those princes 
 who were bigotted to the Romish superstition, employed against the 
 reformers. 
 
 3 The Pope shuts all who dissent from him out of the Church.
 
 go A TALE OF A TUB, 
 
 due symmetry; so that I am ready to shew a complete 
 anatomy thereof, to all curious gentlemen and others. But 
 not to digress farther in the midst of a digression, as I have 
 known some authors enclose digressions in one another, like 
 a nest of boxes ; I do affirm, that having carefully cut up 
 human nature, I have found a very strange, new, and im- 
 portant discovery, that the public good of mankind is per- 
 formed by two ways, instruction and diversion. And I have 
 farther proved, in my said several readings, (which perhaps 
 the world may one day see, if I can prevail on any friend to 
 steal a copy, or on certain gentlemen of my admirers to be 
 very importunate,) that as mankind is now disposed, he receives 
 much greater advantage by being diverted than instructed ; 
 his epidemical diseases being fastidiosity, amorphy, and 
 oscitation ; whereas, in the present universal empire of wit 
 and learning, there seems but little matter left for instruction. 
 However, in compliance with a lesson of great age and 
 authority, I have attempted carrying the point in all its 
 heights ; and, accordingly, throughout this divine treatise, 
 have skilfully kneaded up both together, with a layer of utile, 
 and a layer of duke. 
 
 When I consider how exceedingly our illustrious moderns 
 have eclipsed the weak glimmering lights of the ancients, 
 and turned them out of the road of all fashionable com- 
 merce, to a degree, that our choice town wits, 1 of most 
 refined accomplishments, are in grave dispute, whether there 
 have been ever any ancients or no : in which point, we are 
 likely to receive wonderful satisfaction from the most useful 
 labours and lucubrations of that worthy modern, Dr. Bentley. 
 I say, when I consider all this, I cannot but bewail, that no 
 famous modern hath ever yet attempted a universal system, 
 in a small portable volume, of all things that are to be 
 known, or believed, or imagined, or practised in life. I am, 
 however, forced to acknowledge, that such an enterprize was 
 thought on some time ago by a great philosopher of O. 
 Brazile. 2 The method he proposed was, by a certain curious 
 
 1 The learned person, here meant by our author, hath been endeavour- 
 ing to annihilate so many ancient writers, that, until he is pleased to 
 stop his hand, it will be dangerous to affirm, whether there have been 
 any ancients in the world. 
 
 * This is an imaginary island of kin to that which is called Painters'
 
 A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 91 
 
 receipt, a nostrum, which, after his untimely death, I found 
 among his papers, and do here, out of my great affection to 
 the modern learned, present them with it, not doubting 
 it may one day encourage some worthy undertaker. 
 
 You take fair correct copies, well bound in calf-skin, and 
 lettered at the back, of all modern bodies of arts and sciences 
 whatsoever, and in what language you please. These you 
 distil in balneo Maria?, infusing quintessence of poppy Q.S., 
 together with three pints of Lethe, to be had from the apothe- 
 caries. You cleanse away carefully the sordes and caput 
 mortuum, letting all that is volatile evaporate. You preserve 
 only the first running, which is again to be distilled seventeen 
 times, till what remains will amount to about two drams. 
 This you keep in a glass vial, hermetically sealed, for one-and- 
 twenty days. Then you begin your Catholic treatise, taking 
 every morning fasting, {first shaking the vial,) three drops of 
 this elixir, snuffing it strongly up your nose. It will dilate 
 itself about the brain, (where there is any,) in fourteen minutes, 
 and, you immediately perceive in your head an infinite number 
 of abstracts, summaries, compendiums, extracts, collections, me- 
 dullas, excerpta quasdams, fiorilegias, and the like, all disposed 
 into great order, and reducible upon paper. 
 
 I must needs own, it was by the assistance of this arcanum, 
 that I, though otherwise impar, have adventured upon so 
 daring an attempt, never achieved or undertaken before, but 
 by a certain author called Homer, in whom, though other 
 wise a person not without some abilities, and, for an ancient, 
 of a tolerable genius, I have discovered many gross errors, 
 which are not to be forgiven his very ashes, if, by chance, 
 any of them are left. For whereas we are assured he 
 designed his work for a complete body of all knowledge, 1 
 
 Wives Island, placed in some unknown part of the ocean, merely at 
 the fancy of the map-maker. 
 
 Ibid. There was a belief that the inhabitants of the Isle of Arran 
 could, at certain times, distinguish an enchanted island, called by them 
 O Brazil. Mr. Southey conjectures, that this belief was founded upon 
 some optical delusion, similar to that which produces, in the bay of 
 Naples, the aerial palaces of the Fata Morgana. — Southey's History 
 of Brazil, p. 22. [S.] 
 
 1 Homerus omnes res humanas poematis complexus est. — Xenoph. in 
 conviv.
 
 92 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 human, divine, political, and mechanic, it is manifest he hath 
 wholly neglected some, and been very imperfect in the rest. 
 For, first of all, as eminent a cabalist as his disciples would 
 represent him, his account of the opus magnum is extremely 
 poor and deficient ; he seems to have read but very super- 
 ficially either Sendivogus, Behmen, or Anthroposophia Theo- 
 magica. 1 He is also quite mistaken about the sphara pyro- 
 plastica, a neglect not to be atoned for ; and, (if the reader 
 will admit so severe a censure,) vix credere??i autorem hunc 
 unquam audivisse ignis vocem. His failings are not less pro- 
 minent in several parts of the mechanics. For, having read 
 his writings with the utmost application, usual among modern 
 wits, I could never yet discover the least direction about the 
 structure of that useful instrument, a save-all. For want of 
 which, if the moderns had not lent their assistance, we might 
 yet have wandered in the dark. But I have still behind a 
 fault far more notorious to tax the author with ; I mean, his 
 gross ignorance in the common laws of this realm, and in 
 the doctrine as well as discipline of the Church of England. 2 
 A defect, indeed, for which both he, and all the ancients, 
 stand most justly censured, by my worthy and ingenious 
 friend, Mr. Wotton, Bachelor of Divinity, in his incom- 
 parable treatise of Ancie?it and Modern Learning : a book 
 never to be sufficiently valued, whether we consider the 
 happy turns and Sowings of the author's wit, the great 
 usefulness of his sublime discoveries upon the subject of 
 flies and spittle, or the laborious eloquence of his style. 
 And I cannot forbear doing that author the justice of my 
 public acknowledgments, for the great helps and liftings I 
 had out of his incomparable piece, while I was penning this 
 treatise. 
 
 But, beside these omissions in Homer already mentioned, 
 the curious reader will also observe several defects in that 
 author's writings, for which he is not altogether so account- 
 
 1 A treatise written about fifty years ago, by a Welsh gentleman of 
 Cambridge. His name, as I remember, was Vaughan, as appears by the 
 answer to it writ by the learned Dr. Henry More. It is a piece of" the 
 most unintelligible fustian, that perhaps was ever published in any lan- 
 guage. [This was Thomas Vaughan, twin brother of Henry Vaughan 
 "theSilurist." W. S. J.] 
 
 2 Mr. Wotton, (to whom our author never gives any quarter,) in his 
 comparison of ancient and modern learning, numbers divinity, law, &c, 
 among those parts of knowledge wherein we excel the ancients.
 
 A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 93 
 
 able. For whereas every branch of knowledge has received 
 such wonderful acquirements since his age, especially within 
 these last three years, or thereabouts, it is almost impossible 
 he could be so very perfect in modern discoveries as his 
 advocates pretend. We freely acknowledge him to be the 
 inventor of the compass, of gunpowder, and the circulation 
 of the blood : but I challenge any of his admirers to shew 
 me, in all his writings, a complete account of the spleen. 
 Does he not also leave us wholly to seek in the art of political 
 wagering ? What can be more defective and unsatisfactory 
 than his long dissertation upon tea ? And as to his method 
 of salivation without mercury, so much celebrated of late, it 
 is, to my own knowledge and experience, a thing very little 
 to be relied on. 
 
 It was to supply such momentous defects, that I have 
 been prevailed on, after long solicitation, to take pen in 
 hand ; and I dare venture to promise, the judicious reader 
 shall find nothing neglected here, that can be of use upon 
 any emergency of life. I am confident to have included 
 and exhausted all that human imagination can rise or fall to. 
 Particularly, I recommend to the perusal of the learned, 
 certain discoveries, that are wholly untouched by others; 
 whereof I shall only mention, among a great many more, my 
 New Help for Smatterers, or the Art of being deep-learned and 
 shallow-read; A Curious Invention about Mouse-Traps ; A 
 Universal Rule of Reason, or every Man his own Carver ; 
 together with a most useful engine for catching of owls. All 
 which, the judicious reader will find largely treated on in the 
 several parts of this discourse. 
 
 I hold myself obliged to give as much light as is possible, 
 into the beauties and excellencies of what 1 am writing : be- 
 cause it is become the fashion and humour most applauded, 
 among the first authors of this polite and learned age, when 
 they would correct the ill-nature of critical, or inform the 
 ignorance of courteous readers. Besides, there have been 
 several famous pieces lately published, both in verse and 
 prose, wherein, if the writers had not been pleased, out of 
 their great humanity and affection to the public, to give us a 
 nice detail of the sublime and the admirable they contain, it 
 is a thousand to one, whether we should ever have discovered 
 one grain of either. For my own particular, I cannot deny,
 
 94 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 that whatever I have said upon this occasion, had been more 
 proper in a preface, and more agreeable to the mode which 
 usually directs it there. But I here think fit to lay hold on 
 that great and honourable privilege, of being the last writer. 
 I claim an absolute authority in right, as the freshest modern, 
 which gives me a despotic power over all authors before me. 
 In the strength of which title, I do utterly disapprove and 
 declare against that pernicious custom, of making the preface 
 a bill of fare to the book. For I have always looked upon 
 it as a high point of indiscretion in monster-mongers, and 
 other retailers of strange sights, to hang out a fair large 
 picture over the door, drawn after the life, with a most 
 eloquent description underneath. This hath saved me many 
 a threepence ; for my curiosity was fully satisfied, and I 
 never offered to go in, though often invited by the urging 
 and attending orator, with his last moving and standing 
 piece of rhetoric : " Sir, upon my word, we are just going to 
 begin." Such is exactly the fate, at this time, of Prefaces, 
 Epistles, Advertisements, Introductions, Prolegomenas, Ap- 
 paratuses, To the Readers'. This expedient was admirable at 
 first ; our great Dryden has long carried it as far as it would 
 go, and with incredible success. He has often said to me 
 in confidence, that the world would have never suspected 
 him to be so great a poet, if he had not assured them so fre- 
 quently in his prefaces, that it was impossible they could 
 either doubt or forget it. Perhaps it may be so. However, 
 I much fear, his instructions have edified out of their place, 
 and taught men to grow wiser in certain points, where he 
 never intended they should ; for it is lamentable to behold, 
 with what a lazy scorn many of the yawning readers of our 
 age, do now-a-days twirl over forty or fifty pages of preface 
 and dedication, (which is the usual modern stint,) as if it 
 were so much Latin. Though it must be also allowed on 
 the other hand, that a very considerable number is known 
 to proceed critics and wits, by reading nothing else. Into 
 which two factions, I think, all present readers may justly be 
 divided. Now, for myself, I profess to be of the former 
 sort ; and therefore, having the modern inclination, to ex- 
 patiate upon the beauty of my own productions, and display 
 the bright parts of my discourse, I thought best to do it in 
 the body of the work ; where, as it now lies, it makes
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 95 
 
 a very considerable addition to the bulk of the volume ; 
 a circumstance by no means to be neglected by a skilful 
 writer. 
 
 Having thus paid my due deference and acknowledgment 
 to an established custom of our newest authors, by a long 
 digression unsought for, and a universal censure unprovoked, 
 by forcing into the light, with much pains and dexterity, my 
 own excellencies, and other men's defaults, with great justice 
 to myself, and candour to them, I now happily resume my 
 subject, to the infinite satisfaction both of the reader and 
 the author. 
 
 SECT. VI. 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 We left Lord Peter in open rupture with his two brethren ; 
 both for ever discarded from his house, and resigned to the 
 wide world, with little or nothing to trust to. Which are 
 circumstances that render them proper subjects for the 
 charity of a writer's pen to work on, scenes of misery ever 
 affording the fairest harvest for great adventures. And in 
 this, the world may perceive the difference between the in- 
 tegrity of a generous author and that of a common friend. 
 The latter is observed to adhere close in prosperity, but on 
 the decline of fortune, to drop suddenly off. Whereas the 
 generous author, just on the contrary, finds his hero on the 
 dunghill, from thence by gradual steps raises him to a throne, 
 and then immediately withdraws, expecting not so much as 
 thanks for his pains ; in imitation of which example, I have 
 placed Lord Peter in a noble house, given him a title to 
 wear, and money to spend. There I shall leave him for 
 some time, returning where common charity directs me, to 
 the assistance of his two brothers, at their lowest ebb. How- 
 ever, I shall by no means forget my character of an historian 
 to follow the truth step by step, whatever happens, or where- 
 ever it may lead me. 
 
 The two exiles, so nearly united in fortune and interest,
 
 g6 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 took a lodging together, where, at their first leisure, they 
 began to reflect on the numberless misfortunes and vexations 
 of their life past, and could not tell on the sudden, to what 
 failure in their conduct they ought to impute them, when, 
 after some recollection, they called to mind the copy of 
 their father's will, which they had so happily recovered. 
 This was immediately produced, and a firm resolution taken 
 between them, to alter whatever was already amiss, and 
 reduce all their future measures to the strictest obedience 
 prescribed therein. The main body of the will (as the 
 reader cannot easily have forgot) consisted in certain admir- 
 able rules about the wearing of their coats, in the perusal 
 whereof, the two brothers, at every period, duly comparing 
 the doctrine with the practice, there was never seen a wider 
 difference between two things, horrible downright trans- 
 gressions of every point. Upon which they both resolved, 
 without further delay, to fall immediately upon reducing the 
 whole, exactly after their father's model. 
 
 But, here it is good to stop the hasty reader, ever impatient 
 to see the end of an adventure, before we writers can duly 
 prepare him for it. I am to record, that these two brothers 
 began to be distinguished at this time by certain names. 
 One of them desired to be called MARTIN, 1 and the other 
 took the appellation of JACK. 2 These two had lived in 
 much friendship and agreement, under the tyranny of their 
 brother Peter, as it is the talent of fellow-sufferers to do ; 
 men in misfortune, being like men in the dark, to whom all 
 colours are the same. But when they came forward into 
 the world, and began to display themselves to each other, and 
 to the light, their complexions appeared extremely different, 
 which the present posture of their affairs gave them sudden 
 opportunity to discover. 
 
 But, here the severe reader may justly tax me as a writer 
 of short memory, a deficiency to which a true modern can- 
 not but, of necessity, be a little subject. Because, memory 
 being an employment of the mind upon things past, is a 
 faculty for which the learned in our illustrious age have no 
 manner of occasion, who deal entirely with invention, and 
 strike all things out of themselves, or at least by collision 
 
 1 Martin Luther. 2 John Calvin.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 97 
 
 from each other; upon which account, we think it highly 
 reasonable to produce our great forgetfulness, as an argu- 
 ment unanswerable for our great wit. I ought in method 
 to have informed the reader, about fifty pages ago, of a fancy 
 Lord Peter took, and infused into his brothers, to wear on 
 their coats whatever trimmings came up in fashion ; never 
 pulling off any, as they went out of the mode, but keeping 
 on all together, which amounted in time to a medley the 
 most antic you can possibly conceive, and this to a degree, 
 that upon the time of their falling out, there was hardly a 
 thread of the original coat to be seen, but an infinite quantity 
 of lace and ribbons, and fringe, and embroidery, and points ; 
 (I mean only those tagged with silver, 1 for the rest fell off ). 
 Now this material circumstance having been forgot in due 
 place, as good fortune hath ordered, comes in very properly 
 here, when the two brothers were just going to reform their 
 vestures into the primitive state, prescribed by their father's 
 will. 
 
 They both unanimously entered upon this great work, 
 looking sometimes on their coats, and sometimes on the will. 
 Martin laid the first hand ; at one twitch brought off a large 
 handful of points ; and, with a second pulL stripped away 
 ten dozen yards of fringe. 2 But when he had gone thus far, 
 he demurred a while : he knew very well there yet re- 
 mained a great deal more to be done; however, the first 
 heat being over, his violence began to cool, and he resolved 
 to proceed more moderately in the rest of the work ; having 
 already narrowly escaped a swinging rent, in pulling off the 
 points, which, being tagged with silver (as we have observed 
 before) the judicious workman had, with much sagacity, 
 double sewn, to preserve them from falling. 3 Resolving 
 therefore to rid his coat of a great quantity of gold-lace, he 
 picked up the stitches with much caution, and diligently 
 gleaned out all the loose threads as he went, which proved 
 to be a work of time. Then he fell about the embroidered 
 
 1 Points tagged with silver are those doctrines that promote the 
 greatness and wealth of the church, which have been therefore woven 
 deepest in the body of popery. 
 
 2 Alluding to the commencement of the Reformation in England, by 
 seizing on the abbey lands. [S.] 
 
 3 The dissolution of the monasteries occasioned several insurrections, 
 and much convulsion, during the reign of Edward VI. [S.] 
 
 I. H
 
 98 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 Indian figures of men, women, and children, against which, 
 as you have heard in its due place, their father's testament 
 was extremely exact and severe : these, with much dexterity 
 and application, were, after a while, quite eradicated, or 
 utterly defaced. 1 For the rest, where he observed the em- 
 broidery to be worked so close, as not to be got away with- 
 out damaging the cloth, or where it served to hide or 
 strengthen any flaw in the body of the coat, contracted by 
 the perpetual tampering of workmen upon it ; he concluded, 
 the wisest course was to let it remain, resolving in no case 
 whatsoever, that the substance of the stuff should suffer in- 
 jury, which he thought the best method for serving the true 
 intent and meaning of his father's will. And this is the 
 nearest account I have been able to collect of Martin's 
 proceedings upon this great revolution. 
 
 But his brother Jack, whose adventures will be so extra- 
 ordinary, as to furnish a great part in the remainder of this 
 discourse, entered upon the matter with other thoughts, and 
 a quite different spirit. For the memory of Lord Peter's 
 injuries, produced a degree of hatred and spite, which had a 
 much greater share of inciting him, than any regards after 
 his father's commands, since these appeared, at best, only 
 secondary and subservient to the other. However, for this 
 medley of humour, he made a shift to find a very plausible 
 name, honouring it with the title of zeal ; which is perhaps 
 the most significant word that has been ever yet produced in 
 any language ; as, I think, I have fully proved in my 
 excellent analytical discourse upon that subject ; wherein I 
 have deduced a histori-theo-physi-logical account of zeal, 
 shewing how it first proceeded from a notion into a word, 
 and thence, in a hot summer, ripened into a tangible sub- 
 stance. This work, containing three large volumes in folio, 
 I design very shortly to publish by the modern way of sub- 
 scription, not doubting but the nobility and gentry of the 
 land will give me all possible encouragement, having had 
 already such a taste of what I am able to perform. 
 
 I record, therefore, that brother Jack, brimful of this 
 miraculous compound, reflecting with indignation upon 
 Peter's tyranny, and farther provoked by the despondency of 
 
 1 The abolition of the worship of saints was the second grand step in 
 English reformation. [S.J
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 99 
 
 Martin, prefaced his resolutions to this purpose. " What !" said 
 he, " a rogue that locked up his drink, turned away our wives, 
 cheated us of our fortunes ; palmed his damned crusts upon 
 us for mutton ; and, at last, kicked us out of doors ; must 
 we be in his fashions, with a pox ? A rascal, besides, that 
 all the street cries out against." Having thus kindled and 
 inflamed himself, as high as possible, and by consequence in 
 a delicate temper for beginning a reformation, he set about 
 the work immediately ; and in three minutes made more 
 dispatch than Martin had done in as many hours. For, 
 (courteous reader,) you are given to understand, that zeal is 
 never so highly obliged, as when you set it a-tearing; and 
 Jack, who doated on that quality in himself, allowed it at 
 this time its full swing. Thus it happened, that, stripping 
 down a parcel of gold lace a little too hastily, he rent the 
 main body of his coat from top to bottom ; and whereas his 
 talent was not of the happiest in taking up a stitch, he knew 
 no better way, than to darn it again with packthread and a 
 skewer. 1 But the matter was yet infinitely worse (I record 
 it with tears) when he proceeded to the embroidery : for, 
 being clumsy by nature, and of temper impatient; withal, 
 beholding millions of stitches that required the nicest hand, 
 and sedatest constitution, to extricate ; in a great rage he tore 
 off the whole piece, cloth and all, and flung them into the 
 kennel, 2 and furiously thus continuing his career : " Ah ! 
 good brother Martin," said he, " do as I do, for the love of 
 God ; 3 strip, tear, pull, rend, flay off all, that we may appear 
 as unlike the rogue Peter as it is possible. I would not, for 
 a hundred pounds, carry the least mark about me, that might 
 give occasion to the neighbours of suspecting that I was re- 
 lated to such a rascal." But Martin, who at this time 
 happened to be extremely phlegmatic and sedate, begged his 
 brother, of all love, not to damage his coat by any means ; 
 
 1 The reformers in Scotland left their established clergy in an almost 
 beggarly condition, from the hasty violence with which they seized on all 
 the possessions of the Romish church. [S.] 
 
 s The presbyterians, in discarding forms of prayers, and unnecessary 
 church ceremonies, disused even those founded in scripture. [S.] 
 
 3 The presbyterians were particularly anxious to extend their church 
 government into England. This was the bait held out by the English 
 parliament, to prevail on the Scots to invade England in 1643, and it 
 proved successful. [S.]
 
 100 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 for he never would get such another : desired him to con- 
 sider, that it was not their business to form their actions by 
 any reflection upon Peter, but by observing the rules pre- 
 scribed in their father's will. That he should remember, 
 Peter was still their brother, whatever faults or injuries he 
 had committed ; and therefore they should, by all means, 
 avoid such a thought as that of taking measures for good and 
 evil, from no other rule than of opposition to him. That it 
 was true, the testament of their good father was very exact 
 in what related to the wearing of their coats ; yet it was no 
 less penal, and strict, in prescribing agreement, and friend- 
 ship, and affection between them. And therefore, if strain- 
 ing a point were at all dispensible, it would certainly be so, 
 rather to the advance of unity, than increase of contra- 
 diction. 
 
 MARTIN had still proceeded as gravely as he began, and 
 doubtless would have delivered an admirable lecture of 
 morality, which might have exceedingly contributed to my 
 reader's repose both of body and mind, (the true ultimate 
 end of ethics) ; but Jack was already gone a flight-shot 
 beyond his patience. And as in scholastic disputes, nothing 
 serves to rouse the spleen of him that opposes, so much as a 
 kind of pedantic affected calmness in the respondent ; dispu- 
 tants being for the most part like unequal scales, where the 
 gravity of one side advances the lightness of the other, and 
 causes it to fly up, and kick the beam ; so it happened here 
 that the weight of Martin's argument exalted Jack's levity, 
 and made him fly out, and spurn against his brother's mode- 
 ration. In short, Martin's patience put Jack in a rage ; but 
 that which most afflicted him, was, to observe his brother's 
 coat so well reduced into the state of innocence ; while his 
 own was either wholly rent to his shirt, or those places which 
 had escaped his cruel clutches, were still in Peter's livery. So 
 that he looked like a drunken beau, half rifled by bullies; or like 
 a fresh tenant of Newgate, when he has refused the payment 
 of garnish; or like a discovered shoplifter, left to the mercy of 
 Exchange women; 1 or like a bawd in her old velvet petticoat, 
 resigned into the secular hands of the mobile. Like any, or 
 
 1 The galleries over the piazzas in the Royal Exchange were formerly 
 filled with shops, kept chiefly by women ; the same use was made of a 
 building called the New Exchange in the Strand. [H.]
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. IOI 
 
 like all of these, a medley of rags, and lace, and rents, and 
 fringes, unfortunate Jack did now appear: he would have 
 been extremely glad to see his coat in the condition of 
 Martin's, but infinitely gladder to find that of Martin in the 
 same predicament with his. However, since neither of these 
 was likely to come to pass, he thought fit to lend the whole 
 business another turn, and to dress up necessity into a 
 virtue. Therefore, after as many of the fox's arguments as 
 he could muster up, for bringing Martin to reason, as he 
 called it ; or, as he meant it, into his own ragged, bobtailed 
 condition ; and observing he said all to little purpose ; what, 
 alas ! was left for the forlorn Jack to do, but, after a million 
 of scurrilities against his brother, to run mad with spleen, 
 and spite, and contradiction. To be short, here began a 
 mortal breach between these two. Jack went immediately 
 to new lodgings, and in a few days it was for certain re- 
 ported, that he had run out of his wits. In a short time 
 after he appeared abroad, and confirmed the report by 
 falling into the oddest whimseys that ever a sick brain con- 
 ceived. 
 
 And now the little boys in the streets began to salute him 
 with several names. Sometimes they would call him Jack 
 the bald ; ' sometimes, Jack with a lantern ; a sometimes, 
 Dutch Jack; 3 sometimes, French Hugh; 1 sometimes, Tom 
 the beggar ; 5 and sometimes, Knocking Jack of the north. 6 
 And it was under one, or some, or all of these appellations, 
 (which I leave the learned reader to determine,) that he has 
 given rise to the most illustrious and epidemic sect of 
 ^Eolists ; who, with honourable commemoration, do still ac- 
 knowledge the renowned JACK for their author and founder. 
 Of whose original, as well as principles, I am now advancing 
 to gratify the world with a very particular account. 
 
 — Melleo contingens cuncta lepore. 
 
 1 That is, Calvin, from calvits, bald. 
 8 All those who pretend to inward light. 
 
 3 Jack of Leyden, who gave rise to the Anabaptists. 
 
 4 The Huguenots. 
 
 5 The Gueuses, by which name some Protestants in Flanders were 
 called. 
 
 e John Knox, the reformer of Scotland.
 
 102 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 SECT. VII. 
 
 A DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 
 
 I have sometimes heard of an Iliad in a nutshell ; but it has 
 been my fortune to have much oftener seen a nutshell in an 
 Iliad. There is no doubt that human life has received most 
 wonderful advantages from both ; but to which of the two the 
 world is chiefly indebted, I shall leave among the curious, as 
 a problem worthy of their utmost inquiry. For the invention 
 of the latter, I think the commonwealth of learning is chiefly 
 obliged to the great modern improvement of digressions : 
 the late refinements in knowledge, running parallel to those 
 of diet in our nation, which among men of a judicious taste, 
 are dressed up in various compounds, consisting in soups and 
 olios, fricassees, and ragouts. 
 
 'Tis true, there is a sort of morose, detracting, ill-bred 
 people, who pretend utterly to disrelish those polite innova- 
 tions ; and as to the similitude from diet, they allow the 
 parallel, but are so bold to pronounce the example itself, a 
 corruption and degeneracy of taste. They tell us that the 
 fashion of jumbling fifty things together in a dish, was at first 
 introduced, in compliance to a depraved and debauched 
 appetite, as well as to a crazy constitution : and to see a man 
 hunting through an olio, after the head and brains of a goose, 
 a widgeon, or a woodcock, is a sign he wants a stomach and 
 digestion for more substantial victuals. Farther, they affirm, 
 that digressions in a book are like foreign troops in a state, 
 which argue the nation to want a heart and hands of its 
 own, and often either subdue the natives, or drive them 
 into the most unfruitful corners. 
 
 But, after all that can be objected by these supercilious 
 censors, it is manifest, the society of writers would quickly 
 be reduced to a very inconsiderable number, if men were put 
 upon making books, with the fatal confinement of delivering 
 nothing beyond what is to the purpose. 'Tis acknowledged, 
 that were the case the same among us, as with the Greeks 
 and Romans, when learning was in its cradle, to be reared,
 
 A DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 103 
 
 and fed, and clothed by invention, it would be an easy task 
 to fill up volumes upon particular occasions, without farther 
 expatiating from the subject, than by moderate excursions, 
 helping to advance or clear the main design. But with 
 knowledge it has fared as with a numerous army, encamped 
 in a fruitful country, which, for a few days, maintains itself 
 by the product of the soil it is on ; till, provisions being spent, 
 they are sent to forage many a mile, among friends or enemies, 
 it matters not. Meanwhile, the neighbouring fields, trampled 
 and beaten down, become barren and dry, affording no sus- 
 tenance but clouds of dust. 
 
 The whole course of things being thus entirely changed 
 between us and the ancients, and the moderns wisely sensible 
 of it, we of this age have discovered a shorter, and more 
 prudent method, to become scholars and wits, without the 
 fatigue of reading or of thinking. The most accomplished 
 way of using books at present, is two-fold ; either, first, to 
 serve them as some men do lords, learn their titles exactly, 
 and then brag of their acquaintance. Or, secondly, which is 
 indeed the choicer, the profounder, and politer method, to 
 get a thorough insight into the index, by which the whole 
 book is governed and turned, like fishes by the tail. For, to 
 enter the palace of learning at the great gate, requires an 
 expense of time and forms ; therefore men of much haste, 
 and little ceremony, are content to get in by the back door. 
 For the arts are all in a flying march, and therefore more easily 
 subdued by attacking them in the rear. Thus physicians 
 discover the state of the whole body, by consulting only what 
 comes from behind. Thus men catch knowledge, by throw- 
 ing their wit on the posteriors of a book, as boys do sparrows 
 with flinging salt upon their tails. Thus human life is best 
 understood, by the wise man's rule, of regarding the end. 
 Thus are the sciences found, like Hercules's oxen, by tracing 
 them backwards. Thus are old sciences unravelled, like old 
 stockings, by beginning at the foot. Besides all this, the 
 army of the sciences hath been of late, with a world of martial 
 discipline, drawn into its close order, so that a view or a 
 muster may be taken of it with abundance of expedition. 
 For this great blessing we are wholly indebted to systems and 
 abstracts, in which the modern fathers of learning, like 
 prudent usurers, spent their sweat for the ease of us their
 
 104 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 children. For labour is the seed of idleness, and it is the 
 peculiar happiness of our noble age to gather the fruit. 
 
 Now, the method of growing wise, learned, and sublime, 
 having become so regular an affair, and so established in all 
 its forms, the number of writers must needs have increased 
 accordingly, and to a pitch that hath made it of absolute 
 necessity for them to interfere continually with each other. 
 Besides, it is reckoned, that there is not at this present, a 
 sufficient quantity of new matter left in nature, to furnish and 
 adorn any one particular subject, to the extent of a volume. 
 This I am told by a very skilful computer, who hath given a 
 full demonstration of it from rules of arithmetic. 
 
 This, perhaps, may be objected against by those who 
 maintain the infinity of matter, and therefore will not allow, 
 that any species of it can be exhausted. For answer to which, 
 let us examine the noblest branch of modern wit or invention, 
 planted and cultivated by the present age, and which, of all 
 others, hath borne the most and the fairest fruit. For, though 
 some remains of it were left us by the ancients, yet have not 
 any of those, as I remember, been translated or compiled 
 into systems for modern use. Therefore we may affirm to 
 our own honour, that it has, in some sort, been both invented 
 and brought to perfection by the same hands. What I mean, 
 is, that highly celebrated talent among the modern wits, of 
 deducing similitudes, allusions, and applications, very sur- 
 prising, agreeable, and apposite, from the pudenda of either 
 sex, together with their proper uses. And truly, having 
 observed how little invention bears any vogue, besides what is 
 derived into these channels, I have sometimes had a thought, 
 that the happy genius of our age and country was prophetic- 
 ally held forth by that ancient typical description of the 
 Indian pigmies ; * whose stature did not exceed above two 
 foot ; sed quorum pudenda crassa, et adtalos usque pertingentia. 
 Now, I have been very curious to inspect the late productions, 
 wherein the beauties of this kind have most prominently 
 appeared. And although this vein hath bled so freely, and 
 all endeavours have been used in the power of human breath 
 to dilate, extend, and keep it open ; like the Scythians, 2 who 
 had a custom, and an instrument, to blow up the privities of 
 
 1 Ctesise fragm. apud Photium. 
 
 2 Herodot. L. 4.
 
 A DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 105 
 
 their mares, that they might yield the more milk ; yet I am 
 under an apprehension it is near growing dry, and past all 
 recovery; and that either some new fonde of wit should, if 
 possible, be provided, or else, that we must even be content 
 with repetition here, as well as upon all other occasions. 
 
 This will stand as an uncontestable argument, that our 
 modern wits are not to reckon upon the infinity of matter for 
 a constant supply. What remains therefore, but that our last 
 recourse must be had to large indexes, and little compendiums? 
 Quotations must be plentifully gathered, and booked in 
 alphabet ; to this end, though authors need be little con- 
 sulted, yet critics, and commentators, and lexicons, carefully 
 must. But above all, those judicious collectors of bright 
 parts, and flowers, and observandas, are to be nicely dwelt on, 
 by some called the sieves and boulters of learning, though it 
 is left undetermined, whether they dealt in pearls or meal, 
 and consequently, whether we are more to value that which 
 passed through, or what staid behind. 
 
 By these methods, in a few weeks, there starts up many a 
 writer, capable of managing the profoundest and most 
 universal subjects. For, what though his head be empty, 
 provided his common-place book be full, and if you will bate 
 him but the circumstances of method, and style, and grammar, 
 and invention; allow him but the common privileges of 
 transcribing from others, and digressing from himself, as often 
 as he shall see occasion ; he will desire no more ingredients 
 towards fitting up a treatise, that shall make a very comely 
 figure on a bookseller's shelf; there to be preserved neat and 
 clean for a long eternity, adorned with the heraldry of its title 
 fairly inscribed on a label ; never to be thumbed or greased by 
 students, nor bound to everlasting chains of darkness in a 
 library : but, when the fulness of time is come, shall happily 
 undergo the trial of purgatory, in order to ascend the sky. 
 
 Without these allowances, how is it possible we modern 
 wits should ever have an opportunity to introduce our 
 collections, listed under so many thousand heads of a different 
 nature ; for want of which, the learned world would be deprived 
 of infinite delight, as well as instruction, and we ourselves 
 buried beyond redress, in an inglorious and undistinguished 
 oblivion ? 
 
 From such elements as these, I am alive to behold the
 
 106 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 day, wherein the corporation of authors can outvie all its 
 brethren in the field. A happiness derived to us, with a great 
 many others, from our Scythian ancestors, among whom the 
 number of pens was so infinite, that the Grecian x eloquence 
 had no other way of expressing it, than by saying, that in the 
 regions, far to the north, it was hardly possible for a man to 
 travel, the very air was so replete with feathers. 
 
 The necessity of this digression will easily excuse the 
 length ; and I have chosen for it as proper a place as I could 
 readily find. If the judicious reader can assign a fitter, I do 
 here impower him to remove it into any other corner he 
 pleases. And so I return, with great alacrity, to pursue a 
 more important concern. 
 
 SECT. VIII. 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 The learned ^Folists 2 maintain the original cause of all 
 things to be wind, from which principle this whole universe 
 was at first produced, and into which it must at last be re- 
 solved ; that the same breath, which had kindled, and blew 
 up the flame of nature, should one day blow it out : — 
 
 Quod procul a nobis flectat fortuna gubernans. 
 
 This is what the adepti understand by their anima tnundi; 
 that is to say, the spirit, or breath, or wind of the world ; for, 
 examine the whole system by the particulars of nature, and 
 you will find it not to be disputed. For whether you please 
 to call the forma informans of man, by the name of spirifus, 
 animus, afflatus, or anima; what are all these but several ap- 
 pellations for wind, which is the ruling element in every com- 
 pound, and into which they all resolve upon their corruption ? 
 Farther, what is life itself, but, as it is commonly called, the 
 breath of our nostrils ? Whence it is very justly observed by 
 naturalists, that wind still continues of great emolument in 
 
 1 Herodot. L. 4. 
 
 2 All pretenders to inspiration whatsoever.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 107 
 
 certain mysteries not to be named, giving occasion for those 
 happy epithets of turgidus and inflatus, applied either to the 
 emittent or recipient organs. 
 
 By what I have gathered out of ancient records, I find the 
 compass of their doctrine took in two-and-thirty points, 
 wherein it would be tedious to be very particular. However, 
 a few of their most important precepts, deducible from it, are 
 by no means to be omitted ; among which the following 
 maxim was of much weight : That since wind had the master 
 share, as well as operation, in every compound, by conse- 
 quence, those beings must be of chief excellence, wherein that 
 primordium appears most prominently to abound, and there- 
 fore man is in the highest perfection of all created things, as 
 having, by the great bounty of philosophers, been endued 
 with three distinct animas or winds, to which the sage 
 ^Eolists, with much liberality, have added a fourth, of equal 
 necessity as well as ornament with the other three, by this 
 quartum principium, taking in the four corners of the world. 
 Which gave occasion to that renowned cabaiist, Bumbastus? 
 of placing the body of a man in due position to the four car- 
 dinal points. 
 
 In consequence of this, their next principle was, that man 
 brings with him into the world, a peculiar portion or grain of 
 wind, which may be called a quinta essentia, extracted from 
 the other four. This quintessence is of a catholic use upon 
 all emergencies of life, is improveable into all arts and sciences, 
 and may be wonderfully refined, as well as enlarged, by cer- 
 tain methods in education. This, when blown up to its per- 
 fection, ought not to be covetously hoarded up, stifled, or hid 
 under a bushel, but freely communicated to mankind. Upon 
 these reasons, and others of equal weight, the wise ^Eolists 
 affirm the gift of BELCHING to be the noblest act of a 
 rational creature. To cultivate which art, and render it more 
 serviceable to mankind, they made use of several methods. 
 At certain seasons of the year, you might behold the priests 
 among them, in vast numbers, with their mouths 2 gaping 
 wide enough against a storm. At other times were to be 
 
 1 This is one of the names of Paracelsus ; he was called Christophorus 
 Theophrastus Paracelsus Bumbastus. 
 
 2 This is meant of those seditious preachers, who blow up the seeds of 
 rebellion, &c.
 
 I08 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 seen several hundreds linked together in a circular chain, 
 with every man a pair of bellows applied to his neighbour's 
 breech, by which they blew up each other to the shape and 
 size of a tun ; and for that reason, with great propriety of 
 speech, did usually call their bodies, their vessels. When, 
 by these and the like performances, they were grown suffi- 
 ciently replete, they would immediately depart, and disem- 
 bogue, for the public good, a plentiful share of their acquire- 
 ments, into their disciples' chaps. For we must here observe, 
 that all learning was esteemed among them, to be com- 
 pounded from the same principle. Because, first, it is 
 generally affirmed, or confessed, that learning puffeth men 
 up ; and, secondly, they proved it by the following syllogism : 
 Words are but wind; and learning is nothing but words; 
 ergo, learning is nothing but wind. For this reason, the 
 philosophers among them did, in their schools, deliver to their 
 pupils, all their doctrines and opinions, by eructation, 
 wherein they had acquired a wonderful eloquence, and of 
 incredible variety. But the great characteristic, by which 
 their chief sages were best distinguished, was a certain 
 position of countenance, which gave undoubted intelligence, 
 to what degree or proportion the spirit agitated the inward 
 mass. For, after certain gripings, the wind and vapours is- 
 suing forth, having first, by their turbulence and convulsions 
 within, caused an earthquake in man's little world, distorted 
 the mouth, bloated the cheeks, and gave the eyes a terrible 
 kind of relievo. At such junctures all their belches were re- 
 ceived for sacred, the sourer the better, and swallowed with 
 infinite consolation by their meagre devotees. And, to 
 render these yet more complete, because the breath of man's 
 life is in his nostrils, therefore the choicest, most edifying, 
 and most enlivening belches, were very wisely conveyed 
 through that vehicle, to give them a tincture as they passed. 
 Their gods were the four winds, whom they worshipped, as 
 the spirits that pervade and enliven the universe, and as those 
 from whom alone all inspiration can properly be said to pro- 
 ceed. However, the chief of these, to whom they performed 
 the adoration of latria, 1 was the almighty North, 2 an ancient 
 
 1 Latria is that worship which is paid only to the supreme Deity. [H. ] 
 
 2 The more zealous sectaries were the presbyterians of the Scottish 
 discipline. [S.]
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. IOQ 
 
 deity, whom the inhabitants of Megalopolis, in Greece, had 
 likewise in the highest reverence : omnium deorum Boream 
 maxime celebrant} This god, though endued with ubiquity, 
 was yet supposed, by the profounder .^Eolists, to possess one 
 peculiar habitation, or, (to speak in form,) a cozlum empy- 
 r<zutn, wherein he was more intimately present. This was 
 situated in a certain region, well known to the ancient 
 Greeks, by them called, 2/corta, or the Land of Darkness. 
 And although many controversies have arisen upon that 
 matter, yet so much is undisputed, that from a region of the 
 like denomination, the most refined ^Eolists have borrowed 
 their original, from whence, in every age, the zealous among 
 their priesthood have brought over their choicest inspiration, 
 fetching it with their own hands from the fountain-head in 
 certain bladders, and disploding it among the sectaries in all 
 nations, who did, and do, and ever will, daily gasp and pant 
 after it. 
 
 Now, their mysteries and rites were performed in this 
 manner. 'Tis well known among the learned, that the vir- 
 tuosos of former ages had a contrivance for carrying and pre- 
 serving winds in casks or barrels, which was of great assistance 
 upon long sea voyages, and the loss of so useful an art at 
 present is very much to be lamented, though, I know not 
 how, with great negligence omitted by Pancirollus. 2 It was 
 an invention ascribed to ^Eolus himself, from whom this sect 
 is denominated ; and who, in honour of their founder's 
 memory, have to this day preserved great numbers of those 
 barrels, whereof they fix one in each of their temples, first 
 beating out the top ; into this barrel, upon solemn days, the 
 priest enters, where, having before duly prepared himself by 
 the methods already described, a secret funnel is also con- 
 veyed from his posteriors to the bottom of the barrel, which 
 admits new supplies of inspiration, from a northern chink or 
 cranny. Whereupon, you behold him swell immediately to 
 the shape and size of his vessel. In this posture he disem- 
 bogues whole tempests upon his auditory, as the spirit from 
 beneath gives him utterance, which, issuing ex adytis et 
 penetralibus, is not performed without much pain and 
 
 1 Pausan. L. 8. 
 
 2 An author who writ De Artibus perditis, &c., of arts lost, and of 
 arts invented.
 
 IIO A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 gripings. And the wind, in breaking forth, deals with his 
 face l as it does with that of the sea, first blackening, then 
 wrinkling, and at last bursting it into a foam. It is in this 
 guise the sacred yEolist delivers his oracular belches to his 
 panting disciples ; of whom, some are greedily gaping after 
 the sanctified breath, others are all the while hymning out 
 the praises of the winds ; and, gently wafted to and fro by 
 their own humming, do thus represent the soft breezes of their 
 deities appeased. 
 
 It is from this custom of the priests, that some authors 
 maintain these vEolists to have been very ancient in the 
 world. Because, the delivery of their mysteries, which I have 
 just now mentioned, appears exactly the same with that of 
 other ancient oracles, whose inspirations were owing to 
 certain subterraneous effluviums of wind, delivered with the 
 same pain to the priest, and much about the same influence 
 on the people. 2 It is true, indeed, that these were frequently 
 managed and directed by female officers, whose organs were 
 understood to be better disposed for the admission of those 
 oracular gusts, as entering and passing up through a re- 
 ceptacle of greater capacity, and causing also a pruriency by 
 the way, such as, with due management, hath been refined 
 from carnal into a spiritual ecstasy. And, to strengthen this 
 profound conjecture, it is farther insisted, that this custom of 
 female priests 3 is kept up still in certain refined colleges of 
 our modern ^Eolists, who are agreed to receive their inspira- 
 tion, derived through the receptacle aforesaid, like their an- 
 cestors, the Sybils. 
 
 And whereas the mind of a man, when he gives the spur 
 and bridle to his thoughts, doth never stop, but naturally 
 sallies out into both extremes, of high and low, of good and 
 evil ; his first flight of fancy commonly transports him to ideas 
 of what is most perfect, finished, and exalted; till, having 
 soared out of his own reach and sight, not well perceiving 
 how near the frontiers of height and depth border upon each 
 other ; with the same course and wing, he falls down plumb 
 
 1 This is an exact description of the changes made in the face by en- 
 thusiastic preachers. 
 
 2 The oracles delivered by the Pythoness and other priestesses of 
 Apollo. [S.] 
 
 3 Quakers, who suffer their women to preach and pray.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. Ill 
 
 into the lowest bottom of things, like one who travels the east 
 into the west, or like a straight line drawn by its own length 
 into a circle. Whether a tincture of malice in our natures 
 makes us fond of furnishing every bright idea with its re- 
 verse ; or whether reason, reflecting upon the sum of things, 
 can, like the sun, serve only to enlighten one half of the 
 globe, leaving the other half by necessity under shade and 
 darkness ; or, whether fancy, flying up to the imagination of 
 what is highest and best, becomes overshot, and spent, and 
 weary, and suddenly falls, like a dead bird of paradise, to 
 the ground ; l or whether, after all these metaphysical con- 
 jectures, I have not entirely missed the true reason ; the 
 proposition, however, which has stood me in so much cir- 
 cumstance, is altogether true; that, as the most uncivi- 
 lized parts of mankind have some way or other climbed up 
 into the conception of a God, or Supreme Power, so they 
 have seldom forgot to provide their fears with certain ghastly 
 notions, which, instead of better, have served them pretty 
 tolerably for a devil. And this proceeding seems to be 
 natural enough; for it is with men, whose imaginations are 
 lifted up very high, after the same rate as with those whose 
 bodies are so; that, as they are delighted with the advantage 
 of a nearer contemplation upwards, so they are equally 
 terrified with the dismal prospect of a precipice below. 
 Thus, in the choice of a devil, it hath been the usual 
 method of mankind, to single out some being, either in act 
 or in vision, which was in most antipathy to the god they 
 had framed. Thus also the sect of .^Eolists possessed them- 
 selves with a dread, and horror, and hatred of two malignant 
 natures, betwixt whom, and the deities they adored, per- 
 petual enmity was established. The first of these was the 
 chameleon, 2 sworn foe to inspiration, who in scorn devoured 
 large influences of their god, without refunding the smallest 
 blast by eructation. The other was a huge terrible monster, 
 
 1 It was an ancient belief that birds of paradise had no feet, but 
 always continued on the wing until their death. [S.] 
 
 2 I do not well understand what the Author aims at here, any more 
 than by the terrible Monster, mentioned in the following lines, called 
 Moulinavent, which is the French word for a windmill. 
 
 Ibid. The author seems to mean latitudinarians, persons too indifferent 
 to religion, either to object to, or to receive with interest, any modifica- 
 tion of its doctrines. [S.J
 
 112 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 called Moulinavent, who, with four strong arms, waged 
 eternal battle with all their divinities, dexterously turning to 
 avoid their blows, and repay them with interest. 
 
 Thus furnished, and set out with gods, as well as devils, 
 was the renowned sect of ^Eolists, which makes at this day 
 so illustrious a figure in the world, and whereof that polite 
 nation of Laplanders are, beyond all doubt, a most authentic 
 branch ; of whom I therefore cannot, without injustice, here 
 omit to make honourable mention, since they appear to be 
 so closely allied in point of interest, as well as inclinations, 
 with their brother vEolists among us, as not only to buy 
 their winds by wholesale from the same merchants, but also 
 to retail them after the same rate and method, and to 
 customers much alike. 
 
 Now, whether this system here delivered was wholly com- 
 piled by Jack ; or, as some writers believe, rather copied from 
 the original at Delphos, with certain additions and emenda- 
 tions, suited to the times and circumstances ; I shall nol 
 absolutely determine. This I may affirm, that Jack gave it 
 at least a new turn, and formed it into the same dress and 
 model as it lies deduced by me. 
 
 I have long sought after this opportunity of doing justice 
 to a society of men for whom I have a peculiar honour ; and 
 whose opinions, as well as practices, have been extremely 
 misrepresented and traduced by the malice or ignorance of 
 their adversaries. For I think it one of the greatest and 
 best of human actions, to remove prejudices, and place 
 things in their truest and fairest light ; which I therefore 
 boldly undertake, without any regards of my own, beside the 
 conscience, the honour, and the thanks. 
 
 SECT. IX. 
 
 A Digression concerning the Original, the Use, and Improve- 
 ment of Madness, in a Commonwealth. 
 
 Nor shall it any ways detract from the just reputation of 
 this famous sect, that its rise and institution are owing to 
 such an author as I have described Jack to be — a person
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 113 
 
 whose intellectuals were overturned, and his brain shaken 
 out of its natural position ; which we commonly suppose to 
 be a distemper, and call by the name of madness or frenzy. 
 For, if we take a survey of the greatest actions that have 
 been performed in the world, under the influence of single 
 men, which are, the establishment of new empires by con- 
 quest, the advance and progress of new schemes in philo- 
 sophy, and the contriving, as well as the propagating, of 
 new religions ; we shall find the authors of them all to have 
 been persons, whose natural reason had admitted great revo- 
 lutions, from their diet, their education, the prevalency of 
 some certain temper, together with the particular influence 
 of air and climate. Besides, there is something individual 
 in human minds, that easily kindles, at the accidental ap- 
 proach and collision of certain circumstances, which, though 
 of paltry and mean appearance, do often flame out into 
 the greatest emergencies of life. For great turns are not 
 always given by strong hands, but by lucky adaption, and 
 at proper seasons ; and it is of no import where the fire 
 was kindled, if the vapour has once got up into the brain. 
 For the upper region of man is furnished like the middle 
 region of the air ; the materials are formed from causes of 
 the widest difference, yet produce at last the same substance 
 f and effect. Mists arise from the earth, steams from dung- 
 hills, exhalations from the sea, and smoke from fire ; yet all 
 clouds are the same in composition as well as consequences, 
 and the fumes issuing from a jakes will furnish as comely 
 and useful a vapour as incense from an altar. Thus far, I 
 suppose, will easily be granted me ; and then it will follow, 
 that, as the face of nature never produces rain, but when it 
 is overcast and disturbed, so human understanding, seated 
 in the brain, must be troubled and overspread by vapours, 
 ascending from the lower faculties to water the invention, and 
 render it fruitful. Now, although these vapours (as it hath 
 been already said) are of as various original as those of the 
 skies, yet the crops they produce differ both in kind and 
 degree, merely according to the soil. I will produce two 
 instances to prove and explain what I am now advancing. 
 A certain great prince 1 raised a mighty army, filled his 
 
 1 This was Harry the Great of France. 
 I. I
 
 114 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 coffers with infinite treasures, provided an invincible fleet, 
 and all this without giving the least part of his design to his 
 greatest ministers, or his nearest favourites. Immediately the 
 whole world was alarmed ; the neighbouring crowns in trem- 
 bling expectations, towards what point the storm would 
 burst ; the small politicians everywhere forming profound 
 conjectures. Some believed he had laid a scheme for 
 universal monarchy ; others, after much insight, determined 
 the matter to be a project for pulling down the pope, and 
 setting up the reformed religion, which had once been his 
 own. Some, again, of a deeper sagacity, sent him into Asia 
 to subdue the Turk, and recover Palestine. In the midst of 
 all these projects and preparations, a certain state-surgeon, 1 
 gathering the nature of the disease by these symptoms, 
 attempted the cure, at one blow performed the operation, 
 broke the bag, and out flew the vapour ; nor did anything 
 want to render it a complete remedy, only that the prince 
 unfortunately happened to die in the performance. Now, is 
 the reader exceeding curious to learn whence this vapour 
 took its rise, which had so long set the nations at a gaze ? 
 What secret wheel, what hidden spring, could put into 
 motion so wonderful an engine ? It was afterwards dis- 
 covered, that the movement of this whole machine had been 
 directed by an absent female, whose eyes had raised a pro- 
 tuberancy, and, before emission, she was removed into an 
 enemy's country. What should an unhappy prince do in 
 such ticklish circumstances as these ? He tried in vain the 
 poet's never-failing receipt of corpora qaceque ; for 
 
 Idque petit corpus mens unde est saucia amore : 
 Unde feritur, eo tendit, gestitque coire. — Lucr. 
 
 Having to no purpose used all peaceable endeavours, the 
 collected part of the semen, raised and inflamed, became 
 adust, converted to choler, turned head upon the spinal duct, 
 and ascended to the brain. The very same principle that 
 influences a bully to break the windows of a whore who 
 has jilted him, naturally stirs up a great prince to raise 
 mighty armies, and dream of nothing but sieges, battles, and 
 victories. 
 
 1 Ravillac, who stabbed Henry the Great in his coach.
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 115 
 
 Teterrima belli 
 
 Causa 
 
 The other instance ' is what I have read somewhere in a 
 very ancient author, of a mighty king, who, for the space of 
 above thirty years, amused himself to take and lose towns, 
 beat armies, and be beaten, drive princes out of their 
 dominions; fright children from their bread and butter; burn, 
 lay waste, plunder, dragoon, massacre subject and stranger, 
 friend and foe, male and female. 'Tis recorded, that the 
 philosophers of each country were in grave dispute upon 
 causes natural, moral, and political, to find out where they 
 should assign an original solution of this phenomenon. At 
 last, the vapour or spirit, which animated the hero's brain, 
 being in perpetual circulation, seized upon that region of the 
 human body, so renowned for furnishing the zibeta occiden- 
 talism and, gathering there into a tumour, left the rest of the 
 world for that time in peace. Of such mighty consequence 
 it is where those exhalations fix, and of so little from whence 
 they proceed. The same spirits, which, in their superior 
 progress, would conquer a kingdom, descending upon the 
 anus, conclude in a fistula. 
 
 Let us next examine the great introducers of new schemes 
 in philosophy, and search till we can find from what faculty 
 of the soul the disposition arises in mortal man, of taking it 
 into his head to advance new systems, with such an eager 
 zeal, in things agreed on all hands impossible to be known ; 
 from what seeds this disposition springs, and to what quality 
 of human nature these grand innovators have been indebted 
 for their number of disciples. Because it is plain, that 
 several of the chief among them, both ancient and modern, 
 were usually mistaken by their adversaries, and indeed by all, 
 except their own followers, to have been persons crazed, or 
 out of their wits; having generally proceeded, in the common 
 course of their words and actions, by a method very different 
 from the vulgar dictates of unrefined reason ; agreeing for the 
 
 1 This is meant of the present French king [Lewis XIV.]. 
 
 2 Paracelsus, who was so famous for chemistry, tried an experiment 
 upon human excrement, to make a perfume of it ; which, when he had 
 brought to perfection, he called zibeta occidentalism or western civet ; the 
 back parts of man, (according to his division mentioned by the author, 
 page 107,) being the west.
 
 Il6 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 most part in their several models, with their present un- 
 doubted successors in the academy of modern Bedlam, (whose 
 merits and principles I shall farther examine in due place). 
 Of this kind were Epicurus, Diogenes, Apollonius, Lucretius, 
 Paracelsus, Des Cartes, and others, who, if they were now 
 in the world, tied fast, and separate from their followers, 
 would, in this our undistinguishing age, incur manifest danger 
 of phlebotomy, and whips, and chains, and dark chambers, 
 and straw. For what man, in the natural state or course of 
 thinking, did ever conceive it in his power to reduce the 
 notions of all mankind exactly to the same length, and 
 breadth, and height of his own ? Yet this is the first humble 
 and civil design of all innovators in the empire of reason. 
 Epicurus modestly hoped, that, one time or other, a certain 
 fortuitous concourse of all men's opinions, after perpetual 
 justlings, the sharp with the smooth, the light and the heavy, 
 the round and the square, would, by certain clinamina, unite 
 in the notions of atoms and void, as these did in the originals 
 of all things. Cartesius reckoned to see, before he died, the 
 sentiments of all philosophers, like so many lesser stars in his 
 romantic system, wrapped and drawn within his own vortex. 
 Now, I would gladly be informed, how it is possible to 
 account for such imaginations as these in particular men, 
 without recourse to my phenomenon of vapours, ascending 
 from the lower faculties to overshadow the brain, and there 
 distilling into conceptions, for which the narrowness of our 
 mother-tongue has not yet assigned any other name beside 
 that of madness or phrenzy. Let us therefore now conjecture 
 how it comes to pass, that none of these great presenters do 
 ever fail providing themselves and their notions with a 
 number of implicit disciples. And, I think, the reason is 
 easy to be assigned : for there is a peculiar string in the 
 harmony of human understanding, which, in several in- 
 dividuals, is exactly of the same tuning. This, if you can 
 dexterously screw up to its right key, and then strike gently 
 upon it, whenever you have the good fortune to light among 
 those of the same pitch, they will, by a secret necessary 
 sympathy, strike exactly at the same time. And in this one 
 circumstance lies all the skill or luck of the matter ; for, if 
 you chance to jar the string among those who are either 
 above or below your own height, instead of subscribing to
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 117 
 
 your doctrine, they will tie you fast, call you mad, and feed 
 you with bread and water. It is therefore a point of the 
 nicest conduct, to distinguish and adapt this noble talent, 
 with respect to the differences of persons and times. Cicero 
 understood this very well, when writing to a friend in England, 
 with a caution, among other matters, to beware of being 
 cheated by our hackney-coachmen, (who, it seems, in those 
 days were as arrant rascals as they are now,) has these 
 remarkable words : Est quod gaudeas te in ista loca venisse, ubi 
 aliquid sapere viderere. 1 For, to speak a bold truth, it is a 
 fatal miscarriage so ill to order affairs, as to pass for a fool in 
 one company, when, in another, you might be treated as a 
 philosopher. Which I desire some certain gentlemen of my 
 acquaintance to lay up in their hearts, as a very seasonable 
 innuendo. 
 
 This, indeed, was the fatal mistake of that worthy gentle- 
 man, my most ingenious friend, Mr. Wotton : a person, in 
 appearance, ordained for great designs, as well as perform- 
 ances ; whether you will consider his notions or his looks. 
 Surely no man ever advanced into the public with fitter 
 qualifications of body and mind, for the propagation of a 
 new religion. Oh, had those happy talents, misapplied to 
 vain philosophy, been turned into their proper channels of 
 dreams and visions, where distortion of mind and coun- 
 tenance are of such sovereign use, the base detracting world 
 would not then have dared to report, that something is amiss, 
 that his brain has undergone an unlucky shake ; which even 
 his brother modernists themselves, like ungrates, do whisper 
 so loud, that it reaches up to the very garret I am now 
 writing in. 
 
 Lastly, whosoever pleases to look into the fountains of 
 enthusiasm, from whence, in all ages, have eternally pro- 
 ceeded such fattening streams, will find the spring-head to 
 have been as troubled and muddy as the current ; of such 
 great emolument is a tincture of this vapour, which the 
 world calls madness, that without its help, the world would 
 not only be deprived of those two great blessings, conquests 
 and systems, but even all mankind would unhappily be re- 
 duced to the same belief in things invisible. Now, the 
 
 ' Epist. ad Fam. Trebatio.
 
 Il8 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 former postulatum being held, that it is of no import from 
 what originals this vapour proceeds, but either in what angles 
 it strikes and spreads over the understanding, or upon what 
 species of brain it ascends ; it will be a very delicate point to 
 cut the feather, and divide the several reasons to a nice and 
 curious reader, how this numerical difference in the brain 
 can produce effects of so vast a difference from the same 
 vapour, as to be the sole point of individuation between 
 Alexander the Great, Jack of Leyden, and Monsieur Des 
 Cartes. The present argument is the most abstracted that 
 ever I engaged in ; it strains my faculties to their highest 
 stretch ; and I desire the reader to attend with the utmost 
 perpensity, for I now proceed to unravel this knotty point. 
 There is in mankind a certain 1 * * * * 
 
 ^ff ^f Tp TP tt *fr V *ff 
 
 Hie mult a ****** 
 desiderantur. ****** 
 * * * And this I take to be a clear solu- 
 
 tion of the matter. 
 
 Having therefore so narrowly passed through this intricate 
 difficulty, the reader will, I am sure, agree with me in the 
 conclusion, that if the moderns mean by madness, only a 
 disturbance or transposition of the brain, by force of certain 
 vapours issuing up from the lower faculties, then has this 
 madness been the parent of all those mighty revolutions that 
 have happened in empire, philosophy, and in religion. For 
 the brain, in its natural position and state of serenity, dis- 
 poseth its owner to pass his life in the common forms, without 
 any thoughts of subduing multitudes to his own power, his 
 reasons, or his visions ; and the more he shapes his under- 
 standing by the pattern of human learning, the less he is in- 
 clined to form parties, after his particular notions, because 
 that instructs him in his private infirmities, as well as in the 
 stubborn ignorance of the people.,. But when a man's fancy 
 gets astride on his reason \ when imagination is at cuffs with 
 the senses, and common understanding, as well as common 
 sense, is kicked out of doors; the first proselyte he makes is 
 
 1 Here is another defect in the manuscript ; but I think the author 
 did wisely, and that the matter, which thus strained his faculties, was 
 not worth a solution ; and it were well if all metaphysical cobweb pro- 
 blems were no otherwise answered.
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 119 
 
 himself; and when that is once compassed, the difficulty is 
 not so great in bringing over others ; a strong delusion always 
 operating from without as vigorously as from within. For 
 cant and vision are to the ear and the eye, the same that 
 tickling is to the touch. Those entertainments and pleasures 
 we most value in life, are such as dupe and play the wag 
 with the senses. For, if we take an examination of what is 
 generally understood by happiness, as it has respect either 
 to the understanding or the senses, we shall find all its pro- 
 perties and adjuncts will herd under this short definition, 
 that it is a perpetual possession of being well deceived. 
 And, first, with relation to the mind or understanding, 'tis 
 manifest what mighty advantages fiction has over truth ; and 
 the reason is just at our elbow, because imagination can 
 build nobler scenes, and produce more wonderful revolutions 
 than fortune or nature will be at expense to furnish. Nor is 
 mankind so much to blame in his choice thus determining 
 him, if we consider that the debate merely lies between 
 things past and things conceived; and so the question is 
 only this : — whether things, that have place in the imagina- 
 tion, may not as properly be said to exist, as those that are 
 seated in the memory, which may be justly held in the 
 affirmative, and very much to the advantage of the former, 
 since this is acknowledged to be the womb of things, and 
 the other allowed to be no more than the grave. Again, if 
 we take this definition of happiness, and examine it with 
 reference to the senses, it will be acknowledged wonderfully 
 adapt. How fading and insipid do all objects accost us, 
 that are not conveyed in the vehicle of delusion ! How 
 shrunk is everything, as it appears in the glass of nature ! 
 So that if it were not for the assistance of artificial mediums, 
 false lights, refracted angles, varnish and tinsel, there would 
 be a mighty level in the felicity and enjoyments of mortal 
 men. If this were seriously considered by the world, as I 
 have a certain reason to suspect it hardly will, men would 
 no longer reckon among their high points of wisdom, the 
 art of exposing weak sides, and publishing infirmities; an 
 employment, in my opinion, neither better nor worse than 
 that of unmasking, which, I think, has never been allowed 
 fair usage, either in the world, or the play-house. 
 
 In the proportion that credulity is a more peaceful posses-
 
 120 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 sion of the mind than curiosity; so far preferable is that 
 wisdom, which converses about the surface, to that pretended 
 philosophy, which enters into the depth of things, and then 
 comes gravely back with the informations and discoveries, 
 that in the inside they are good for nothing. The two senses, 
 to which all objects first address themselves, are the sight 
 and the touch ; these never examine farther than the colour, 
 the shape, the size, and whatever other qualities dwell, or are 
 drawn by art upon the outward of bodies ; and then comes 
 reason officiously with tools for cutting, and opening, and 
 mangling, and piercing, offering to demonstrate, that they 
 are not of the same consistence quite through. Now I take 
 all this to be the last degree of perverting nature; one of 
 whose eternal laws it is, to put her best furniture forward. 
 And therefore, in order to save the charges of all such ex- 
 pensive anatomy for the time to come, I do here think fit to 
 inform the reader, that in such conclusions as these, reason 
 is certainly in the right, and that in most corporeal beings, 
 which have fallen under my cognizance, the outside has 
 been infinitely preferable to the in ; whereof I have been 
 farther convinced from some late experiments. Last week I 
 saw a woman flayed, and you will hardly believe how much it 
 altered her person for the worse. Yesterday I ordered the 
 carcass of a beau to be stripped in my presence, when we 
 were all amazed to find so many unsuspected faults under 
 one suit of clothes. Then I laid open his brain, his heart, 
 and his spleen ; but I plainly perceived at every operation, 
 that the farther we proceeded, we found the defects increase 
 upon us in number and bulk ; from all which, I justly formed 
 this conclusion to myself; that whatever philosopher or pro- 
 jector can find out an art to sodder and patch up the flaws 
 and imperfections of nature, will deserve much better of man- 
 kind, and teach us a more useful science, than that so much 
 in present esteem, of widening and exposing them, (like him 
 who held anatomy to be the ultimate end of physic). And 
 he, whose fortunes and dispositions have placed him in a 
 convenient station to enjoy the fruits of this noble art ; he 
 that can, with Epicurus, content his ideas with the films and 
 images that fly off upon his senses from the superficies of 
 things ; such a man, truly wise, creams off nature, leaving 
 the sour and the dregs for philosophy and reason to lap up.
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 121 
 
 This is the sublime and refined point of felicity, called the 
 possession of being well deceived ; the serene peaceful state, 
 of being a fool among knaves. 
 
 But to return to madness. It is certain, that, according 
 to the system I have above deduced, every species thereof 
 proceeds from a redundancy of vapours ; therefore, as some 
 kinds of phrenzy give double strength to the sinews, so there 
 are of other species, which add vigour, and life, and spirit to 
 the brain. Now, it usually happens, that these active spirits, 
 getting possession of the brain, resemble those that haunt 
 other waste and empty dwellings, which, for want of business, 
 either vanish, and carry away a piece of the house, or else 
 stay at home, and fling it all out of the windows. By which, 
 are mystically displayed the two principal branches of mad- 
 ness, and which some philosophers, not considering so well 
 as I, have mistaken to be different in their causes, over 
 hastily assigning the first to deficiency, and the other to re- 
 dundance. 
 
 I think it therefore manifest, from what I have here ad- 
 vanced, that the main point of skill and address is, to furnish 
 employment for this redundancy of vapour, and prudently to 
 adjust the season of it ; by which means, it may certainly 
 become of cardinal and catholic emolument, in a common- 
 wealth. Thus one man, choosing a proper juncture, leaps 
 into a gulf, from whence proceeds a hero, and is called the 
 saver of his country ; another achieves the same enterprise, 
 but, unluckily timing it, has left the brand of madness fixed 
 as a reproach upon his memory ; upon so nice a distinction, 
 are we taught to repeat the name of Curtius with reverence 
 and love, that of Empedocles with hatred and contempt. 
 Thus also it is usually conceived, that the elder Brutus only 
 personated the fool and madman for the good of the public; 
 but this was nothing else than a redundancy of the same 
 vapour long misapplied, called by the Latins, ingenium par 
 negotiis? or, (to translate it as nearly as I can) a sort of 
 phrenzy, never in its right element, till you take it up in the 
 business of the state. 
 
 Upon all which, and many other reasons of equal weight, 
 though not equally curious, I do here gladly embrace an 
 
 1 Tacit.
 
 122 A TALE OF A TUP 
 
 opportunity I have long sought for, of recommending it as 
 a very noble undertaking to Sir Edward Seymour, Sir 
 Christopher Musgrave, Sir John Bowls, John How, Esq., 
 and other patriots concerned, that they would move for leave 
 to bring in a bill for appointing commissioners to inspect 
 into Bedlam, and the parts adjacent; who shall be empowered 
 to send for persons, papers, and records, to examine into the 
 merits and qualifications of every student and professor, to 
 observe with utmost exactness their several dispositions and 
 behaviour, by which means, duly distinguishing and adapting 
 their talents, they might produce admirable instruments for 
 the several offices in a state, * * * * *, civil, and military, 
 proceeding in such methods as I shall here humbly propose. 
 And I hope the gentle reader will give some allowance to 
 my great solicitudes in this important affair, upon account of 
 the high esteem I have borne that honourable society, 
 whereof I had some time the happiness to be an unworthy 
 member. 
 
 Is any student tearing his straw in piece-meal, swearinr 
 and blaspheming, biting his grate, foaming at the mouth, and 
 emptying his piss-pot in the spectators' faces ? Let the right 
 worshipful the commissioners of inspection give him a 
 regiment of dragoons, and send him into Flanders among 
 the rest. Is another eternally talking, sputtering, gaping, 
 bawling in a sound without period or article ? What wonder- 
 ful talents are here mislaid ! Let him be furnished im- 
 mediately with a green bag and papers, and threepence in 
 his pocket, 1 and away with him to Westminster-Hall. You 
 will find a third gravely taking the dimensions of his kennel, 
 a person of foresight and insight, though kept quite in the 
 dark ; for why, like Moses, ecce cormita* erat ejus fades. He 
 walks duly in one pace, entreats your penny with due gravity 
 and ceremony, talks much of hard times, and taxes, and the 
 whore of Babylon, bars up the wooden window of his cell 
 constantly at eight o'clock, dreams of fire, and shoplifters, 
 and court-customers, and privileged places. Now, what a 
 figure would all these acquirements amount to, if the owner 
 were sent into the city among his brethren ! Behold a 
 
 1 A lawyer's coach-hire. 
 
 2 Cornutus is either horned or shining, and by this term Moses is 
 described in the vulgar Latin of the Bible.
 
 A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. I2<? 
 
 fourth, in much and deep conversation with himself, biting 
 his thumbs at proper junctures, his countenance checkered 
 with business and design, sometimes walking very fast, with 
 his eyes nailed to a paper that he holds in his hands ; a great 
 saver of time, somewhat thick of hearing, very short of sight, 
 out more of memory ; a man ever in haste, a great hatcher 
 and breeder of business, and excellent at the famous art of 
 whispering nothing ; a huge idolator of monosyllables and 
 procrastination, so ready to give his word to everybody, that 
 he never keeps it ; one that has forgot the common meaning 
 of words, but an admirable retainer of the sound ; extremely 
 subject to the looseness, for his occasions are perpetually call- 
 ing him away. If you approach his grate in his familiar in- 
 tervals ; " Sir," says he, " give me a penny, and I'll sing you a 
 song ; but give me the penny first," (hence comes the common 
 saying, and commoner practice, of parting with money for a 
 song.) What a complete system of court skill is here de- 
 scribed in every branch of it, and all utterly lost with wrong 
 application ! Accost the hole of another kennel, first stop- 
 ping your nose, you will behold a surly, gloomy, nasty, slovenly 
 mortal, raking in his own dung, and dabbling in his urine. 
 The best part of his diet is the reversion of his own ordure, 
 which, expiring into steams, whirls perpetually about, and at 
 last re-infunds. His complexion is of a dirty yellow, with a 
 thin scattered beard, exactly agreeable to that of his diet 
 upon its first declination, like other insects, who, having their 
 birth and education in an excrement, from thence borrow 
 their colour and their smell. The student of this apartment 
 is very sparing of his words, but somewhat over-liberal of 
 his breath. He holds his hand out ready to receive your 
 penny, and immediately upon receipt withdraws to his 
 former occupations. Now, is it not amazing to think, the 
 society of Warwick-lane should have no more concern for 
 the recovery of so useful a member ; who, if one may judge 
 from these appearances, would become the greatest orna- 
 ment to that illustrious body? Another student struts up 
 fiercely to your teeth, puffing with his lips, half squeezing 
 out his eyes, and very graciously holds you out his hand to 
 kiss. The keeper desires you not to be afraid of this pro- 
 fessor, for he will do you no hurt ; to him alone is allowed 
 the liberty of the anti-chamber, and the orator of the place
 
 124 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 gives you to understand, that this solemn person is a tailor 
 run mad with pride. This considerable student is adorned 
 with many other qualities, upon which at present I shall not 
 
 farther enlarge Hark in your ear 1 
 
 I am strangely mistaken, if all his address, his motions, and 
 his airs, would not then be very natural, and in their proper 
 element. 
 
 I shall not descend so minutely, as to insist upon the vast 
 number of beaux, fiddlers, poets, and politicians, that the 
 world might recover by such a reformation ; but what is 
 more material, beside the clear gain redounding to the com- 
 monwealth, by so large an acquisition of persons to employ, 
 whose talents and acquirements, if I may be so bold 
 as to affirm it, are now buried, or at least misapplied; it 
 would be a mighty advantage accruing to the public from 
 this inquiry, that all these would very much excel, and arrive 
 at great perfection in their several kinds ; which, I think, is 
 manifest from what I have already shewn, and shall enforce 
 by this one plain instance, that even I myself, the author of 
 these momentous truths, am a person, whose imaginations 
 are hard-mouthed, and exceedingly disposed to run away 
 with his reason, which I have observed, from long experience, 
 to be a very light rider, and easily shook off; upon which 
 account, my friends will never trust me alone, without a 
 solemn promise to vent my speculations in this, or the like 
 manner, for the universal benefit of human kind ; which 
 perhaps the gentle, courteous, and candid reader, brimful of 
 that modern charity and tenderness usually annexed to his 
 office, will be very hardly persuaded to believe. 
 
 SECT. X. 
 
 A FARTHER DIGRESSION. 
 
 It is an unanswerable argument of a very refined age, the 
 wonderful civilities that have passed of late years between 
 
 1 I cannot conjecture what the author means here, or how this chasm 
 should be filled, though it is capable of more than one interpretation.
 
 A FARTHER DIGRESSION. 1 25 
 
 the nation of authors and that of readers. There can nardly 
 pop out a play, a pamphlet, or a poem, without a preface 
 full of acknowledgment to the world for the general recep- 
 tion and applause they have given it, 1 which the Lord knows 
 where, or when, or how, or from whom it received. In due 
 deference to so laudable a custom, I do here return my 
 humble thanks to his Majesty, and both houses of Parlia- 
 ment; to the Lords of the King's Most Honourable Privy- 
 Council; to the reverend the Judges; to the clergy, andgentry, 
 and yeomanry of this land ; but in a more especial manner 
 to my worthy brethren and friends at Will's Coffee-house, 
 and Gresham College, and Warwick Lane, and Moorfields, 
 and Scotland Yard, and Westminster Hall, and GuildhalJ ; 
 in short, to all inhabitants and retainers whatsoever, either 
 in court, or church, or camp, or city, or country, for their 
 generous and universal acceptance of this divine treatise. 
 I accept their approbation and good opinion with extreme 
 gratitude, and, to the utmost of my poor capacity, shall take 
 hold of all opportunities to return the obligation. 
 
 I am also happy, that fate has flung me into so blessed an 
 age for the mutual felicity of booksellers and authors, whom 
 I may safely affirm to be at this day the two only satisfied 
 parties in England. Ask an author how his last piece has 
 succeeded : Why, truly, he thanks his stars, the world has 
 been very favourable, and he has not the least reason to 
 complain : and yet, by G — , he writ it in a week, at bits and 
 starts, when he could steal an hour from his urgent affairs, 
 as it is a hundred to one, you may see farther in the preface, 
 to which he refers you, and for the rest, to the bookseller. 
 There you go as a customer, and make the same question : 
 he blesses his God the thing takes wonderfully, he is just 
 printing the second edition, and has but three left in his 
 shop. You beat down the price : " Sir, we shall not differ," 
 and, in hopes of your custom another time, lets you have it 
 as reasonable as you please, ' and pray send as many of your 
 acquaintance as you will, I shall, upon your account, furnish 
 them all at the same rate." 
 
 Now, it is not well enough considered, to what accidents 
 and occasions the world is indebted for the greatest part of 
 
 1 This is literally true, as we may observe in the prefaces to most 
 plays, poems, &c.
 
 126 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 those noble writings, which hourly start up to entertain it. 
 If it were not for a rainy day, a drunken vigil, a fit of the 
 spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy Sunday, an ill run at dice, 
 a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purse, a factious head, a hot 
 sun, costive diet, want of books, and a just contempt of 
 learning — -but for these events, I say, and some others too 
 long to recite (especially a prudent neglect of taking brim- 
 stone inwardly) I doubt, the number of authors and of writ- 
 ings would dwindle away to a degree most woful to behold. 
 To confirm this opinion, hear the words of the famous 
 Troglodyte philosopher: "'Tis certain," (said he,) "some 
 grains of folly are of course annexed, as part of the composi- 
 tion of human nature, only the choice is left us, whether we 
 please to wear them inlaid or embossed, and we need not 
 go very far to seek how that is usually determined, when we 
 remember it is with human faculties as with liquors, the 
 lightest will be ever at the tcp." 
 
 There is in this famous island of Britain a certain paltry 
 scribbler, very voluminous, whose character the reader can- 
 not wholly be a stranger to. He deals in a pernicious kind 
 of writings, called second parts, and usually passes under the 
 name of the author of the first. I easily foresee, that as 
 soon as I lay down my pen, this nimble operator will have 
 stole it, and treat me as inhumanly as he has already done 
 Dr. Blackmore, Lestrange, and many others, who shall here 
 be nameless. I therefore fly for justice and relief into the 
 hands of that great rectifier of saddles, 1 and lover of man- 
 kind, Dr. Bentley, begging he will take this enormous 
 grievance into his most modern consideration ; and if it 
 should so happen, that the furniture of an ass, in the shape 
 of a second part, must, for my sins, be clapped by a mistake 
 upon my back, that he will immediately please, in the pre- 
 sence of the world, to lighten me of the burden, and take it 
 home to his own house, till the true beast thinks fit to call 
 for it. 
 
 In the meantime I do here give this public notice, that my 
 resolutions are to circumscribe, within this discourse, the 
 whole stock of matter I have been so many years providing. 
 
 1 Alluding to the trite phrase, " place the saddle on the right horse." 
 — Bentley is ridiculed by Boyle, for making use of some such low and 
 vernacular forms of expression. [S.]
 
 A FARTHER DIGRESSION. 1 27 
 
 Since my vein is once opened, I am content to exhaust it all 
 at a running, for the peculiar advantage of my dear country, 
 and for the universal benefit of mankind. Therefore, hospit- 
 ably considering the number of my guests, they shall have 
 my whole entertainment at a meal, and I scorn to set up the 
 leavings in the cupboard. What the guests cannot eat, may 
 be given to the poor, and the dogs l under the table may 
 gnaw the bones. This I understand for a more generous 
 proceeding, than to turn the company's stomach, by inviting 
 them again to-morrow to a scurvy meal of scraps. 
 
 If the reader fairly considers the strength of what I have 
 advanced in the foregoing section, I am convinced it will 
 produce a wonderful revolution in his notions and opinions; 
 and he will be abundantly better prepared to receive and to 
 relish the concluding part of this miraculous treatise. Readers 
 may be divided into three classes — the superficial, the 
 ignorant, and the learned: and I have with much felicity 
 fitted my pen to the genius and advantage of each. The 
 superficial reader will be strangely provoked to laughter; 
 which clears the breast and the lungs, is sovereign against 
 the spleen, and the most innocent of all diuretics. The 
 ignorant reader, (between whom and the former the distinc- 
 tion is extremely nice,) will find himself disposed to stare ; 
 which is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, serves to raise and 
 enliven the spirits, and wonderfully helps perspiration. But 
 the reader truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I wake 
 when others sleep, and sleep when others wake, will here find 
 sufficient matter to employ his speculations for the rest of his 
 life. It were much to be wished, and I do here humbly 
 propose for an experiment, that every prince in Christendom 
 will take seven of the deepest scholars in his dominions, and 
 shut them up close for seven years in seven chambers, with 
 a command to write seven ample commentaries on this com- 
 prehensive discourse. I shall venture to affirm, that what- 
 ever difference may be found in their several conjectures, 
 they will be all, without the least distortion, manifestly de- 
 ducible from the text. Meantime, it is my earnest request, 
 that so useful an undertaking may be entered upon, (if their 
 Majesties please,) with all convenient speed ; because I have 
 
 1 By dogs, the author means common injudicious critics, as he ex- 
 plains it himself before in his Digression upon Critics (p. 78).
 
 128 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 a strong inclination, before I leave the world, to taste a 
 blessing, which we mysterious writers can seldom reach, till 
 we have got into our graves : whether it is, that fame, being a 
 fruit grafted on the body, can hardly grow, and much less 
 ripen, till the stock is in the earth : or whether she be a bird 
 of prey, and is lured, among the rest, to pursue after the 
 scent of a carcass : or whether she conceives her trumpet 
 sounds best and farthest when she stands on a tomb, by 
 the advantage of a rising ground, and the echo of a hollow 
 vault. 
 
 Tis true, indeed, the republic of dark authors, after they 
 once found out this excellent expedient of dying, have been 
 peculiarly happy in the variety, as well as extent of their 
 reputation. For, night being the universal mother of things, 
 wise philosophers hold all writings to be fruitful, in the pro- 
 portion they are dark ; and therefore, the true illuminated l 
 (that is to say, the darkest of all) have met with such number- 
 less commentators, whose scholastic midwifery hath delivered 
 them of meanings, that the authors themselves perhaps 
 never conceived, and yet may very justly be allowed the 
 lawful parents of them, the words of such writers being like 
 seed, 2 which, however scattered at random, when they light 
 upon a fruitful ground, will multiply far beyond either the 
 hopes or imagination of the sower. 
 
 And therefore, in order to promote so useful a work, I will 
 here take leave to glance a few innuendoes, that may be of 
 great assistance to those sublime spirits, who shall be ap- 
 pointed to labour in a universal comment upon this wonderful 
 discourse. And, first, 3 I have couched a very profound 
 mystery in the number of O's multiplied by seven, and 
 divided by nine. Also, if a devout brother of the Rosy 
 Cross will pray fervently for sixty-three mornings, with a 
 lively faith, and then transpose certain letters and syllables, 
 according to prescription, in the second and fifth section, 
 they will certainly reveal into a full receipt of the opus mag- 
 num. Lastly, whoever will be at the pains to calculate the 
 
 1 A name of the Rosicrucians. 
 
 2 Nothing is more frequent than for Commentators to force interpre- 
 tation, which the author never meant. 
 
 3 This is what the Cabalists among the Jews have done with the Bible, 
 and pretend to find wonderful mysteries by it.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 1 29 
 
 whole number of each letter in this treatise, and sum up the 
 difference exactly between the several numbers, assigning the 
 true natural cause for every such difference, the discoveries 
 in the product will plentifully reward his labour. But then 
 he must beware of Bythus and Sige, 1 and be sure not to 
 forget the qualities of Acamoth ; h cujus lactymis humecta 
 prodit substantia, a risu lucida, a tristitia solida, et a timore 
 mobilis ; wherein Eugenius Philalethes 2 hath committed an 
 unpardonable mistake. 
 
 SECT. XI. 
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 After so wide a compass as I have wandered, I do now 
 gladly overtake, and close in with my subject, and shall 
 henceforth hold on with it an even pace to the end of my 
 journey, except some beautiful prospect appears within sight 
 
 1 I was told by an eminent divine, whom I consulted on this point, 
 that these two barbarous words, with that of Acamoth, and its 
 qualities, as here set down, are quoted from Irenaeus. This he dis- 
 covered by searching that ancient writer for another quotation of our 
 author, which he has placed in the title-page, and refers to the book 
 and chapter ; the curious were very inquisitive, whether those barbarous 
 words, basitna eacabasa, &*c are really in Irenseus, and upon inquiry, it 
 was found tney were a sort ot cant or jargon of certain heretics, and 
 therefore very properly prefixed to such a book as this of our author. 
 
 Ibid- Mr. Craik points out that the words Bythus {(5v66<;) and Sige 
 (<riy»j), Profundity and Silence, are given, by Irenseus, in his "Treatise 
 against Heresies," in an exposition of one of the sects of Gnostics. 
 Acamoth, like Cham, is a corruption of the Hebrew word, Chachma 
 = Wisdom. [T. S.] 
 
 2 Vid. Anima magica abscondila. 
 
 Ibid. To the above-mentioned treatise, called Anthroposophia Theo- 
 magica, there is another annexed, called Anima magica abscondita, written 
 by the same author, Vaughan, under the name of Eugenius Philalethes, 
 but in neither of those treatises is there any mention of Acamoth, or 
 its qualities, so that this is nothing but amusement, and a ridicule of 
 dark, unintelligible writers ; only the words, a cujus lacrymis, dr'c. are, 
 as we have said, transcribed from Irenseus, though I know not from 
 what part. I believe one of the author's designs was to set curious men 
 a-hunting through indexes, and inquiring for books out of the common 
 load. 
 
 I. K
 
 I30 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 of my way, whereof though at present I have neither warning 
 nor expectation, yet upon such an accident, come when 
 it will, I shall beg my reader's favour and company, allowing 
 me to conduct him through it along with myself. For in 
 writing it is as in travelling : if a man is in haste to be at 
 home, (which I acknowledge to be none of my case, having 
 never so little business as when I am there,) and his horse 
 be tired with long riding and ill ways, or be naturally a jade, 
 I advise him clearly to make the straightest and the com- 
 monest road, be it ever so dirty ; but then surely we must 
 own such a man to be a scurvy companion at best; he 
 spatters himself and his fellow-travellers at every step : all 
 their thoughts, and wishes, and conversation, turn entirely 
 upon the subject of their journey's end ; and at every splash, 
 and plunge, and stumble they heartily wish one another 
 at the devil. 
 
 On the other side, when a traveller and his horse are in 
 heart and plight ; when his purse is full, and the day before 
 him ; he takes the road only where it is clean and convenient ; 
 entertains his company there as agreeably as he can ; but 
 upon the first occasion, carries them along with him to every 
 delightful scene in view, whether of art, of nature, or of 
 both ; and if they chance to refuse, out of stupidity or weari- 
 ness, let them jog on by themselves and be d — — n'd ; he'll 
 overtake them at the next town, at which arriving, he rides 
 furiously through ; the men, women, and children run out to 
 gaze ; a hundred l noisy curs run barking after him, of which, 
 if he honours the boldest with a lash of his whip, it is rather 
 out of sport than revenge ; but should some sourer mongrel 
 dare too near an approach, he receives a salute on the chaps 
 by an accidental stroke from the courser's heels, (nor is any 
 ground lost by the blow,) which sends him yelping and limp- 
 ing home. 
 
 I now proceed to sum up the singular adventures of my 
 renowned Jack ; the state of whose dispositions and fortunes 
 the careful reader does, no doubt, most exactly remember, as 
 I last parted with them in the conclusion of a former section. 
 Therefore, his next care must be, from two of the foregoing, 
 to extract a scheme of notions, that may best fit his under- 
 standing, for a true relish of what is to ensue. 
 
 1 By these are meant what the author calls the true critics, p. 78.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 13I 
 
 JACK had not only calculated the first revolution of his 
 brain so prudently, as to give rise to that epidemic sect of 
 ^Eolists, but succeeding also into a new and strange variety 
 of conceptions, the fruitfulness of his imagination led him 
 into certain notions, which, although in appearance very un- 
 accountable, were not without their mysteries and their 
 meanings, nor wanted followers to countenance and improve 
 them. I shall therefore be extremely careful and exact in re- 
 counting such material passages of this nature as I have been 
 able to collect, either from undoubted tradition, or indefati- 
 gable reading ; and shall describe them as graphically as it is 
 possible, and as far as notions of that height and latitude 
 can be brought within the compass of a pen. Nor do I at 
 all question, but they will furnish plenty of noble matter for 
 such, whose converting imaginations dispose them to reduce 
 all things into types ; who can make shadows, no thanks to 
 the sun, and then mould them into substances, no thanks to 
 philosophy ; whose peculiar talent lies in fixing tropes and 
 allegories to the letter, and refining what is literal into figure 
 and mystery. 
 
 JACK had provided a fair copy of his father's will, en- 
 grossed in form upon a large skin of parchment ; and, resolv- 
 ing to act the part of a most dutiful son, he became the 
 fondest creature of it imaginable. For although, as I have 
 often told the reader, it consisted wholly in certain plain, 
 easy directions, about the management and wearing their 
 coats, with legacies and penalties in case of obedience or 
 neglect, yet he began to entertain a fancy that the matter 
 was deeper and darker, and therefore must needs have a 
 great deal more of mystery at the bottom. " Gentlemen," 
 said he, "I will prove this very skin of parchment to be 
 meat, drink, and cloth, to be the philosopher's stone, and 
 the universal medicine." In consequence of which raptures, 
 he resolved to make use of it in the necessary, as well as the 
 most paltry occasions of life. 1 He had a way of working it 
 into any shape he pleased ; so that it served him for a night- 
 cap when he went to bed, and for an umbrella in rainy 
 weather. He would lap a piece of it about a sore toe, or 
 when he had fits, burn two inches under his nose ; or if any- 
 
 1 The author here lashes those pretenders to purity, who place so 
 much merit in using scripture phrases on all occasions.
 
 I32 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 thing lay heavy on his stomach, scrape off, and swallow as 
 much of the powder, as would lie on a silver-penny — they 
 were all infallible remedies. With analogy to these refine- 
 ments, his common talk and conversation ran wholly in the 
 phrase of his will, 1 and he circumscribed the utmost of his 
 eloquence within that compass, not daring to let slip a 
 syllable without authority from thence. Once, at a strange 
 house, he was suddenly taken short upon an urgent juncture, 
 whereon it may not be allowed too particularly to dilate ; and 
 being not able to call to mind, with that suddenness the 
 occasion required, an authentic phrase for demanding the 
 way to the back-side ; he chose rather, as the more prudent 
 course, to incur the penalty in such cases usually annexed. 
 Neither was it possible for the united rhetoric of mankind, 
 to prevail with him to make himself clean again ; because, 
 having consulted the will upon this emergency, he met with 
 a passage 2 near the bottom (whether foisted in by the tran- 
 scriber, is not known) which seemed to forbid it. 
 
 He made it a part of his religion, never to say grace to his 
 meat; 3 nor could all the world persuade him, as the 
 common phrase is, to eat his victuals like a Christian. 4 
 
 He bore a strange kind of appetite to snap-dragon, 5 and to 
 the livid snuffs of a burning candle, which he would catch 
 
 1 The Protestant dissenters use scripture phrases in their serious dis- 
 courses and composures, more than the Church-of-England men ; ac- 
 cordingly, Tack is introduced making his common talk and conversation 
 to run wholly in the phrase of his WILL.— W. Wotton. 
 
 2 I cannot guess the author's meaning here, which I would be very 
 glad to know, because it seems to be of importance. 
 
 Ibid. Incurring the penalty in such cases usually annexed, wants no 
 explanation. He would not make himself clean, because, having con- 
 sulted the will, {i.e. the New Testament,) he met with a passage near 
 the bottom, (i.e. in the nth verse of the last chapter of the Revelations,) 
 " He which is filthy, let him be filthy still," which seemed to forbid it. 
 " Whether foisted in by the transcriber," is added, because this para- 
 graph is wanting in the Alexandrian MS., the oldest and most authentic 
 copy of the New Testament. [H.] 
 
 3 The slovenly way of receiving the sacrament among the fanatics. 
 
 4 This is a common phrase to express eating cleanlily, and is meant 
 for an invective against that undecent manner among some people in 
 receiving the sacrament; so in the lines before, which is to be under- 
 stood of the dissenters refusing to kneel at the sacrament. 
 
 5 I cannot well find the author's meaning here, unless it be the hot, 
 untimely, blind zeal of enthusiasts.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 1 33 
 
 and swallow with an agility wonderful to conceive ; and by this 
 procedure, maintained a perpetual flame in his belly, which, 
 issuing in a glowing steam from both his eyes, as well as his 
 nostrils and his mouth, made his head appear in a dark 
 night, like the skull of an ass, wherein a roguish boy had 
 conveyed a farthing candle, to the terror of his Majesty's 
 liege subjects. Therefore, he made use of no other 
 expedient to light himself home, but was wont to say, that a 
 wise man was his own lanthorn. 
 
 He would shut his eyes as he walked along the streets, 
 and if he happened to bounce his head against a post, or 
 fall into a kennel, (as he seldom missed either to do one or 
 both,) he would tell the gibing prentices, who looked on, 
 that he submitted with entire resignation, as to a trip, or a 
 blow of fate, with whom he found, by long experience, how 
 vain it was either to wrestle or to cuff, and whoever durst 
 undertake to do either, would be sure to come off with a 
 swinging fall, or a bloody nose. "It was ordained," said he, 
 " some few days before the creation, that my nose and this 
 very post should have a rencounter, and, therefore, nature 
 thought fit to send us both into the world in the same age, 
 and to make us countrymen and fellow-citizens. Now, had 
 my eyes been open, it is very likely the business might have 
 been a great deal worse ; for how many a confounded slip 
 is daily got by a man with all his foresight about him ? 
 Besides, the eyes of the understanding see best, when those 
 of the senses are out of the way ; and therefore, blind men are 
 observed to tread their steps with much more caution, and 
 conduct, and judgment, than those who rely with too much 
 confidence upon the virtue of the visual nerve, which every 
 little accident shakes out of order, and a drop, or a film, can 
 wholly disconcert ; like a lanthorn among a pack of roaring 
 bullies when they scour the streets, exposing its owner and 
 itself to outward kicks and buffets, which both might have 
 escaped, if the vanity of appearing would have suffered them 
 to walk in the dark. But farther, if we examine the conduct 
 of these boasted lights, it will prove yet a great deal worse 
 than their fortune. Tis true, I have broke my nose against 
 this post, because fortune either forgot, or did not think it 
 convenient, to twitch me by the elbow, and give me notice 
 to avoid it. But, let not this encourage either the present
 
 134 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 age, or posterity, to trust their noses into the keeping of their 
 eyes, which may prove the fairest way of losing them for good 
 and all. For, O ye eyes, ye blind guides ; miserable guardians 
 are ye of our frail noses ; ye, I say, who fasten upon the 
 first precipice in view, and then tow our wretched willing 
 bodies after you, to the very brink of destruction. But, 
 alas ! that brink is rotten, our feet slip, and we tumble down 
 prone into a gulf, without one hospitable shrub in the way to 
 break the fall — a fall, to which not any nose of mortal make 
 is equal, except that of the giant Laurcalco, 1 who was lord of 
 the silver bridge. Most properly therefore, O eyes, and with 
 great justice, may you be compared to those foolish lights, 
 which conduct men through dirt and darkness, till they fall 
 into a deep pit or a noisome bog." 
 
 This I have produced as a scantling of Jack's great 
 eloquence, and the force of his reasoning upon such abstruse 
 matters. 
 
 He was, besides, a person of great design and improve- 
 ment in affairs of devotion, having introduced a new deity, 
 who has since met with a vast number of worshippers, by 
 some called Babel, by others Chaos ; who had an ancient 
 temple of Gothic structure upon Salisbury plain, famous for 
 its shrine, and celebration by pilgrims. 
 
 When he had some roguish trick to play, 2 he would down 
 with his knees, up with his eyes, and fall to prayers, though 
 in the midst of the kennel. Then it was, that those who 
 understood his pranks, would be sure to get far enough out 
 of his way, and whenever curiosity attracted strangers to 
 laugh, or to listen, he would, of a sudden, with one hand, out 
 with his gear, and piss full in their eyes, and with the other, 
 all bespatter them with mud. 
 
 In winter he went always loose and unbuttoned, 3 and clad 
 as thin as possible, to let in the ambient heat; and in 
 summer lapped himself close and thick to keep it out. 
 
 In all revolutions of government,* he would make his 
 
 1 Vide Don Quixote. 
 
 2 The villainies and cruelties, committed by enthusiasts and fanatics 
 among us, were all performed under the disguise of religion and long 
 prayers. 
 
 3 They affect differences in habit and behaviour. 
 
 4 They are severe persecutors, and all in a form of cant and devotion.
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 135 
 
 court for the office of hangman general ; and in the exercise 
 of that dignity, wherein he was very dexterous, would make 
 use of no other vizard, 1 than a long prayer. 
 
 He had a tongue so musculous and subtile, that he could 
 twist it up into his nose, and deliver a strange kind of speech 
 from thence. He was also the first in these kingdoms, who 
 began to improve the Spanish accomplishment of braying ; 
 and having large ears, perpetually exposed and erected, he 
 carried his art to such perfection, that it was a point of great 
 difficulty to distinguish, either by the view or the sound, 
 between the original and the copy. 
 
 He was troubled with a disease, reverse to that called the 
 stinging of the tarantula; and would run dog-mad at the 
 noise of music, 2 especially a pair of bagpipes. But he would 
 cure himself again, by taking two or three turns in West- 
 minster-hall, or Billingsgate, or in a boarding-school, or the 
 Royal-Exchange, or a state coffee-house. 
 
 He was a person that feared no colours, but mortally 
 hated all, and, upon that account, bore a cruel aversion 
 against painters ; 3 insomuch, that, in his paroxysms, as he 
 walked the streets, he would have his pockets loaden with 
 stones to pelt at the signs. 
 
 Having, from this manner of living, frequent occasion to 
 wash himself, he would often leap over head and ears into 
 the water, 4 though it were in the midst of the winter, but was 
 always observed to come out again much dirtier, if possible, 
 than he went in. 
 
 He was the first that ever found out the secret of con- 
 triving a soporiferous medicine to be conveyed in at the 
 ears ; 5 it was a compound of sulphur and balm of Gilead, 
 with a little pilgrim's salve. 
 
 1 Cromwell and his confederates went, as they called it, to seek God, 
 when they resolved to murder the king. 
 
 * This is to expose our dissenters' aversion to instrumental music in 
 churches. — W. Wotton. 
 
 3 They quarrel at the most innocent decency and ornament, and de- 
 faced the statues and paintings in all the churches in England. 
 
 4 Baptism by immersion, [T. S.] 
 
 5 Fanatic preaching, composed either of hell and damnation, or a 
 fulsome description of the joys of heaven ; both in such a dirty, nauseous 
 style, as to be well resembled to pilgrim's salve.
 
 136 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 He wore a large plaister of artificial caustics on his stomach, 
 with the fervour of which, he could set himself a-groaning, 
 like the famous board upon application of a red-hot iron. 
 
 He would stand in the turning of a street, and, calling to 
 those who passed by, would cry to one, " Worthy sir, do me 
 the honour of a good slap in the chaps." 1 To another, 
 " Honest friend, pray favour me with a handsome kick on 
 the arse ;" " Madam, shall I entreat a small box on the ear 
 from your ladyship's fair hands ? " " Noble captain, lend a 
 reasonable thwack, for the love of God, with that cane of 
 yours over these poor shoulders." And when he had, by 
 such earnest solicitations, made a shift to procure a basting 
 sufficient to swell up his fancy and his sides, he would return 
 home extremely comforted, and full of terrible accounts of 
 what he had undergone for the public good. " Observe this 
 stroke," (said he, shewing his bare shoulders,) "a plaguy 
 janissary gave it me this very morning at seven o'clock, as, 
 with much ado, I was driving off the great Turk. Neigh- 
 bours, mind, this broken head deserves a plaister ; had poor 
 Jack been tender of his noddle, you would have seen the 
 Pope and the French king, long before this time of day, 
 among your wives and your warehouses. Dear Christians, 
 the great Mogul was come as far as Whitechapel, and you 
 may thank these poor sides, that he hath not (God bless us !) 
 already swallowed up man, woman, and child." 
 
 It was highly worth observing the singular effects of that 
 aversion, 2 or antipathy, which Jack and his brother Peter 
 seemed, even to an affectation, to bear toward each other. 
 Peter had lately done some rogueries, that forced him to 
 abscond ; and he seldom ventured to stir out before night, 
 for fear of bailiffs. Their lodgings were at the two most 
 distant parts of the town from each other ; and whenever 
 
 1 The fanatics have always had a way of affecting to run into perse- 
 cution, and count vast merit upon every little hardship they suffer. 
 
 2 The papists and fanatics, though they appear the most averse to 
 each other, yet bear a near resemblance in many things, as has been 
 observed by learned men. 
 
 Ibid. The agreement of our dissenters and the papists, in that which 
 Bishop Stillingfleet called the fanaticism of the Church of Rome, is 
 ludicrously described, for several pages together, by Jack's likeness to 
 Peter, and their being often mistaken for each other, and their frequent 
 meeting when they least intended it.— [W. Wotton.]
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 1 37 
 
 their occasions or humours called them abroad, they would 
 make choice of the oddest unlikely times, and most uncouth 
 rounds, they could invent, that they might be sure to avoid 
 one another : yet, after all this, it was their perpetual fortune 
 to meet. The reason of which is easy enough to apprehend ; 
 for,thephrenzyand the spleen of both having the same founda- 
 tion, we may look upon them as two pair of compasses, 
 equally extended, and the fixed foot of each remaining in the 
 same centre ; which, though moving contrary ways at first, 
 will be sure to encounter somewhere or other in the circum- 
 ference. Besides, it was among the great misfortunes of 
 Jack, to bear a huge personal resemblance with his brother 
 Peter. Their humour and dispositions were not only the 
 same, but there was a close analogy in their shape and size, 
 and their mien. Insomuch, that nothing was more frequent 
 than for a bailiff to seize Jack by the shoulder, and cry, 
 " Mr. Peter, you are the king's prisoner." Or, at other 
 times, for one of Peter's nearest friends to accost Jack with 
 open arms, " Dear Peter, I am glad to see thee, pray send 
 me one of your best medicines for the worms." This, we 
 may suppose, was a mortifying return of those pains and 
 proceedings Jack had laboured in so long ; and finding how 
 directly opposite all his endeavours had answered to the sole 
 end and intention, which he had proposed to himself, how 
 could it avoid having terrible effects upon a head and heart 
 so furnished as his ? However, the poor remainders of his 
 coat bore all the punishment ; the orient sun never 
 entered upon his diurnal progress, without missing a piece of 
 it. He hired a tailor to stitch up the collar so close, that it 
 was ready to choke him, and squeezed out his eyes at such 
 a rate, as one could see nothing but the white. What little 
 was left of the main substance of the coat, he rubbed every 
 day for two hours against a rough-cast wall, in order to grind 
 away the remnants of lace and embroidery, but at the same 
 time went on with so much violence, that he proceeded a 
 heathen philosopher. Yet, after all he could do of this 
 kind, the success continued still to disappoint his expecta- 
 tion. For, as it is the nature of rags to bear a kind of mock 
 resemblance to finery, there being a sort of fluttering appear- 
 ance in both, which is not to be distinguished at a distance, 
 in the dark, or by short-sighted eyes, so ; in those junctures,
 
 138 A TALE OF A TUB 
 
 it fared with Jack and his tatters, that they offered to the 
 first view a ridiculous flaunting ; which, assisting the resem- 
 blance in person and air, thwarted all his projects of separa- 
 tion, and left so near a similitude between them, as frequently 
 
 deceived the very disciples and followers of both. 
 
 # # 
 
 # # 
 
 # # 
 
 # # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 Desunt non- 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 nulla. 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # * 
 
 The old Sclavonian proverb said well, that it is with men 
 as with asses ; whoever would keep them fast, must find a 
 very good hold at their ears. Yet I think we may affirm, 
 that it hath been verified by repeated experience, that, 
 
 Effugiet tamen haec sceleratus vincula Proteus. 
 
 It is good, therefore, to read the maxims of our ancestors, 
 with great allowances to times and persons ; for if we look 
 into primitive records, we shall find, that no revolutions have 
 been so great, or so frequent, as those of human ears. In 
 former days, there was a curious invention to catch and keep 
 them ; which, I think, we may justly reckon among the 
 artes perditcz ; and how can it be otherwise, when, in the 
 latter centuries, the very species is not only diminished to a 
 very lamentable degree, but the poor remainder is also de- 
 generated so far as to mock our skilfullest tenure ? For, if 
 the only slitting of one ear in a stag has been found sufficient 
 to propagate the defect through a whole forest, why should 
 we wonder at the greatest consequences, from so many lop- 
 pings and mutilations, to which the ears of our fathers, and 
 our own, have been of late so much exposed? 'Tis true, 
 indeed, that while this island of ours was under the do- 
 minion of grace, many endeavours were made to improve 
 the growth of ears once more among us. The proportion of 
 largeness was not only looked upon as an ornament of the 
 outward man, but as a type of grace in the inward. Besides, 
 it is held by naturalists, that, if there be a protuberancy of 
 parts, in the superior region of the body, as in the ears and 
 nose, there must be a parity also in the inferior ; and, there- 
 fore, in that truly pious age, the males in every assembly,
 
 A TALE OF A TUB. 1 39 
 
 according as they were gifted, appeared very forward in 
 exposing their ears to view, and the regions about them ; 
 because Hippocrates tells us, 1 that, when the vein behind 
 the ear happens to be cut, a man becomes a eunuch : and the 
 females were nothing backwarder in beholding and edifying 
 by them ; whereof those who had already used the means, 
 looked about them with great concern, in hopes of conceiving 
 a suitable offspring by such a prospect ; others, who stood 
 candidates for benevolence, found there a plentiful choice, 
 and were sure to fix upon such as discovered the largest ears, 
 that the breed might not dwindle between them. Lastly, the 
 devouter sisters, who looked upon all extraordinary dilata- 
 tions of that member as protrusions of zeal, or spiritual 
 excrescencies, were sure to honour every head they sat upon, 
 as if they had been marks of grace ; 2 but especially that of 
 the preacher, whose ears were usually of the prime magni- 
 tude ; which upon that account, he was very frequent and 
 exact in exposing with all advantages to the people : in his 
 rhetorical paroxysms turning sometimes to hold forth the 
 one, and sometimes to hold forth the other ; from which 
 custom, the whole operation of preaching is to this very day, 
 among their professors, styled by the phrase of holding forth. 
 
 Such was the progress of the saints for advancing the size 
 of that member ; and it is thought the success would have 
 been every way answerable, if, in process of time, a cruel 
 king had not arisen, 3 who raised a bloody persecution against 
 all ears above a certain standard ; upon which, some were 
 glad to hide their flourishing sprouts in a black border, others 
 crept wholly under a periwig ; some were slit, others cropped, 
 and a great number sliced off to the stumps. But of this 
 more hereafter in my general " History of Ears," which I 
 design very speedily to bestow upon the public. 
 
 From this brief survey of the falling state of ears in the 
 last age, and the small care had to advance their ancient 
 growth in the present, it is manifest, how little reason we 
 can have to rely upon a hold so short, so weak, and so 
 slippery; and that whoever desires to catch mankind fast, 
 
 1 Lib, de aere, locis, et aquis. 
 
 2 As if they had been cloven tongues. — First Edition. [T. S.] 
 
 3 This was King Charles the Second, who, at his restoration, turned 
 out all the dissenting teachers that would not conform.
 
 MO A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 must have recourse to some other methods. Now, he that 
 will examine human nature with circumspection enough, may 
 discover several handles, whereof the six 1 senses afford one 
 a-piece, beside a great number that are screwed to the 
 passions, and some few rivetted to the intellect. Among 
 these last, curiosity is one, and, of all others, affords the 
 firmest grasp ; curiosity, that spur in the side, that bridle in 
 the mouth, that ring in the nose, of a lazy and impatient and 
 a grunting reader. By this handle it is, that an author 
 should seize upon his readers ; which as soon as he has once 
 compassed, all resistance and struggling are in vain, and they 
 become his prisoners as close as he pleases, till weariness or 
 dulness force him to let go his gripe. 
 
 And therefore, I, the author of this miraculous treatise, 
 having hitherto, beyond expectation, maintained, by the 
 aforesaid handle, a firm hold upon my gentle readers, it 
 is with great reluctance, that I am at length compelled to 
 remit my grasp, leaving them, in the perusal of what remains, 
 to that natural oscitancy inherent in the tribe. I can only 
 assure thee, courteous reader, for both our comforts, that my 
 concern is altogether equal to thine, for my unhappiness in 
 losing, or mislaying among my papers, the remaining part of 
 these memoirs; which consisted of accidents, turns, and 
 adventures, both new, agreeable, and surprising ; and there- 
 fore calculated, in all due points, to the delicate taste of this 
 our noble age. But, alas ! with my utmost endeavours, I 
 have been able only to retain a few of the heads. Under 
 which, there was a full account, how Peter got a protection 
 out of the King's Bench ; and of a reconcilement 2 between 
 Jack and him, upon a design they had, in a certain rainy 
 night, to trepan brother Martin into a spunging-house, and 
 
 1 Including Scaliger's. [Orig. Note.]— J. C. Scaliger, in his Exer- 
 citationes (published in 1557) — in reply to the De Subtilitate of Cardano 
 — speaks of a sixth sense, that of sex (286. 3). [VV. S. J.] 
 
 a In the reign of King James the Second, the Presbyterians, by the 
 king's invitation, joined with the Papists, against the Church of England, 
 and addressed him for repeal of the penal laws and test. The king, by 
 his dispensing power, gave liberty of conscience, which both Papists 
 and Presbyterians made use of; but, upon the Revolution, the Papists 
 being down of course, the Presbyterians freely continued their assemblies, 
 by virtue of King James's indulgence, before they had a toleration by 
 law. This I believe the author means by Jack's stealing Peter's pro- 
 tection, and making use of it himself.
 
 THE CONCLUSION. I4I 
 
 there strip him to the skin. How Martin, with much ado, 
 shewed them both a fair pair of heels. How a new warrant 
 came out against Peter ; upon which, how Jack left him in 
 the lurch, stole his protection, and made use of it himself. 
 How Jack's tatters came into fashion in court and city ; how 
 he got upon a great horse, 1 and eat custard. 2 But the par- 
 ticulars of all these, with several others, which have now slid 
 out of my memory, are lost beyond all hopes of recovery. 
 For which misfortune, leaving my readers to condole with 
 each other, as far as they shall find it to agree with their several 
 constitutions ; but conjuring them by all the friendship that 
 has passed between us, from the title-page to this, not to 
 proceed so far as to injure their healths for an accident past 
 remedy ; I now go on to the ceremonial part of an accom- 
 plished writer, and therefore, by a courtly modern, least of 
 all others to be omitted. 
 
 THE CONCLUSION. 
 
 Going too long, is a cause of abortion, as effectual, though 
 not so frequent, as going too short ; and holds true especially 
 in the labours of the brain. Well fare the heart of that noble 
 Jesuit, 3 who first adventured to confess in print, that books 
 must be suited to their several seasons, like dress, and diet, 
 and diversions ; and better fare our noble nation, for refining 
 upon this among other French modes. I am living fast to 
 see the time, when a book that misses its tide, shall be 
 neglected, as the moon by day, or like mackarel a week after 
 the season. No man has more nicely observed our climate, 
 than the bookseller who bought the copy of this work. He 
 knows to a tittle what subjects will best go off in a dry year, 
 and which it is proper to expose foremost, when the weather- 
 glass is fallen to much rain. When he had seen this treatise, 
 and consulted his almanack upon it, he gave me to under- 
 
 1 Sir Humphry Edwin, a Presbyterian, was some years ago lord- 
 mayor of London, and had the insolence to go in his formalities to a 
 conventicle, with the ensigns of his office. 
 
 2 Custard is a famous dish at a lord-mayor's feast. 
 
 3 Pere d'Orleans.
 
 142 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 stand, that he had manifestly considered the two principal 
 things, which were, the bulk and the subject ; and found it 
 would never take but after a long vacation, and then only in 
 case it should happen to be a hard year for turnips. Upon 
 which I desired to know, considering my urgent necessities, 
 what he thought might be acceptable this month. He 
 looked westward, and said, " I doubt we shall have a fit of 
 bad weather. However, if you could prepare some pretty 
 little banter, (but not in verse,) or a small treatise upon the 
 
 , it would run like wildfire. But, if it hold up, I have 
 
 already hired an author to write something against Dr. 
 Bentley, which, I am sure, will turn to account." 
 
 At length we agreed upon this expedient ; that when a 
 customer comes for one of these, and desires in confidence 
 to know the author, he will tell him very privately, as a friend, 
 naming whichever of the wits shall happen to be that week 
 in vogue ; and if Durfey's last play should be in course, I 
 would as lieve he may be the person as Congreve. This I 
 mention, because I am wonderfully well acquainted with the 
 present relish of courteous readers ; and have often observed, 
 with singular pleasure, that a fly, driven from a honey-pot, 
 will immediately, with very good appetite, alight, and finish 
 his meal on an excrement. 
 
 I have one word to say upon the subject of profound 
 writers, who are grown very numerous of late ; and I know 
 very well, the judicious world is resolved to list me in that 
 number. I conceive therefore, as to the business of being 
 profound, that it is with writers as with wells — a person with 
 good eyes may see to the bottom of the deepest, provided 
 any water be there, and, that, often, when there is nothing in 
 the world at the bottom, besides dryness and dirt, though it be 
 but a yard and half under-ground, it shall pass, however, for 
 wondrous deep, upon no wiser a reason, than because it is 
 wondrous dark. 
 
 I am now trying an experiment very frequent among 
 modern authors ; which is to write upon nothing ; when the 
 subject is utterly exhausted, to let the pen still move on ; by 
 some called the ghost of wit, delighting to walk after the 
 death of its body. And to say the truth, there seems to be 
 no part of knowledge in fewer hands, than that of discerning 
 when to have done. By the time that an author has writ
 
 THE CONCLUSION. 143 
 
 out a book, he and his readers are become old acquaintants, 
 and grow very loth to part ; so that I have sometimes known 
 it to be in writing, as in visiting, where the ceremony of 
 taking leave has employed more time than the whole con- 
 versation before. The conclusion of a treatise resembles 
 the conclusion of human life, which has sometimes been 
 compared to the end of a feast ; where few are satisfied to 
 depart, id plenus vitce conviva. For men will sit down after 
 the fullest meal, though it be only to doze, or to sleep out 
 the rest of the day. But, in this latter, I differ extremely 
 from other writers, and shall be too proud, if, by all my 
 labours, I can have anyways contributed to the repose of 
 mankind, in times l so turbulent and unquiet as these. 
 Neither do I think such an employment so very alien from 
 the office of a wit as some would suppose. For, among a 
 very polite nation in Greece, 2 there were the same temples 
 built and consecrated, to Sleep and the Muses, between 
 which two deities they believed the strictest friendship was 
 established. 
 
 I have one concluding favour to request of my reader ; that 
 he will not expect to be equally diverted and informed by every 
 line or every page of this discourse ; but give some allowance 
 to the author's spleen, and short fits or intervals of dulness, as 
 well as his own ; and lay it seriously to his conscience, whether, 
 if he were walking the streets in dirty weather, or a rainy 
 day, he would allow it fair dealing, in folks at their ease from 
 a window to critick 3 his gait, and ridicule his dress at such 
 a juncture. 
 
 In my disposure of employments of the brain, I have 
 thought fit to make invention the master, and to give method 
 and reason the office of its lackeys. The cause of this 
 distribution was, from observing it my peculiar case, to be 
 often under a temptation of being witty upon occasions, 
 where I could be neither wise, nor sound, nor anything to 
 the matter in hand. And I am too much a servant of the 
 modern way, to neglect any such opportunities, whatever 
 pains or improprieties I may be at, to introduce them. For 
 I have observed, that, from a laborious collection of seven 
 
 1 This was writ before the peace of Ryswick [which was signed in 
 September, 1697]. 
 
 2 Trezenii. Pausan. lib. 2.
 
 144 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 hundred and thirty-eight flowers, and shining hints of the 
 best modern authors, digested with great reading into my 
 book of commonplaces, I have not been able, after five 
 years, to draw, hook, or force, into common conversation, 
 any more than a dozen. Of which dozen, the one moiety 
 failed of success, by being dropped among unsuitable com- 
 pany ; and the other cost me so many strains, and traps, and 
 ambages to introduce, that I at length resolved to give it 
 over. Now, this disappointment, (to discover a secret,) I 
 must own, gave me the first hint of setting up for an author ; 
 and I have since found, among some particular friends, that 
 it is become a very general complaint, and has produced the 
 same effects upon many others. For I have remarked many 
 a towardly word to be wholly neglected or despised in dis- 
 course, which has passed very smoothly, with some considera- 
 tion and esteem, after its preferment and sanction in print. 
 But now, since, by the liberty and encouragement of the 
 press, I am grown absolute master of the occasions and 
 opportunities to expose the talents I have acquired, I already 
 discover, that the issues of my observanda begin to grow too 
 large for the receipts. Therefore, I shall here pause a while, 
 till I find, by feeling the world's pulse and my own, that it 
 will be of absolute necessity for us both, to resume my pen.
 
 THE HISTORY OF MARTIN. 1 
 
 Giving an Account of his Departure from Jack, and their 
 setting up for themselves, on which account they were obliged 
 to travel and meet many Disasters, finding no shelter near 
 Petals Habitation: Martin succeeds in the North: Peter 
 thunders against Martin for the Loss of the large Revenue he 
 used to receive from thence; Harry Huff sent Martin a 
 Challenge to Fight, which he received ; Peter rewards Harry 
 for the pretended Victory, which encouraged Harry to huff 
 Peter also ; with many other extraordi?iary Adventures of 
 the said Martin in several Places with many considerable 
 Persons. 
 
 With a Digression concerning the Nature, Usefulness, and 
 Necessity of Wars and Quarrels. 
 
 ' OW Jack and Martin, being parted, set up each for him- 
 - self. How they travelled over hills and dales, met many 
 disasters, suffered much from the good cause, and struggled 
 with difficulties and wants, not having where to lay their head; 
 by all which they afterwards proved themselves to be right 
 father's sons, and Peter to be spurious. Finding no shelter 
 near Peter's habitation, Martin travelled northwards, and 
 
 1 In the third volume of Nichols's "Supplement to Dr. Swift's 
 Works" (1779), this "History" comes under the title, "Abstract of 
 what, in the Dutch edition, is said to have followed Sect. IX. of the 
 MS." The present text is Scott's, collated with that in the volume of 
 Nichols's edition above referred to. See also note prefixed to " A Tale 
 of a Tub." [T. S.] 
 
 " The History of Martin " was printed in " Miscellaneous Works " 
 (1720) and in the 1734 edition of " A Tale of a Tub." The long 
 heading (here printed in italics) and the short paragraph before the 
 "N.B." on p. 151 were added when the "History" was revised and 
 issued as a pamphlet in 1735. [W. S. J.] 
 
 I. I- 
 
 H
 
 146 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 finding the Thuringians * and neighbouring people disposed 
 to change, he set up his stage first among them, where, mak- 
 ing it his business to cry down Peter's powders, plaisters, 
 salves, and drugs, which he had sold a long time at a dear 
 rate, allowing Martin none of the profit, though he had been 
 often employed in recommending and putting them off, the 
 good people, willing to save their pence, began to hearken 
 to Martin's speeches. 2 How several great lords took the 
 hint, and on the same account declared for Martin ; par- 
 ticularly one who, not having enough of one wife, wanted to 
 marry a second, and knowing Peter used not to grant such 
 licences but at a swinging price, he struck up a bargain with 
 Martin, whom he found more tractable, and who assured 
 him he had the same power to allow such things. How 
 most of the other northern lords, for their own private ends, 
 withdrew themselves and their dependents from Peter's au- 
 thority, and closed in with Martin. How Peter, enraged at the 
 loss of such large territories, and consequently of so much 
 revenue, thundered against Martin, and sent out the strongest 
 and most terrible of his bulls to devour him; but this having no 
 effect, and Martin defending himself boldly and dexterously, 
 Peter at last put forth proclamations, declaring Martin, and 
 all his adherents, rebels and traitors, ordaining and requiring 
 all his loving subjects to take up arms, and to kill, burn, 
 and destroy all and every one of them ; promising large re- 
 wards, &c, upon which ensued bloody wars and desolation. 
 How Harry Huff, 3 Lord of Albion, one of the greatest 
 bullies of those days, sent a cartel to Martin to fight him 
 on a stage, at cudgels, quarter-staff, back-sword, &c. Hence 
 the origin of that genteel custom of prize-fighting so well 
 known and practised to this day among those polite islanders, 
 though unknown everywhere else. How Martin, being a 
 bold blustering fellow, accepted the challenge. How they 
 met and fought, to the great diversion of the spectators ; 
 and, after giving one another broken heads and many bloody 
 wounds and bruises, how they both drew off victorious ; in which 
 
 1 The States in the North of Germany, who adopted the Lutheran 
 religion. [S.] 
 
 2 The commencement of Luther's revolt against the Church of Rome 
 is here insinuated. [S.] 
 
 3 Henry VIII. [S.]
 
 THE HISTORY OF MARTIN. I47 
 
 their example has been frequently imitated by great clerks 
 and others since that time. How Martin's friends applauded 
 his victory, and how Lord Harry's friends complimented him 
 on the same score, and particularly Lord Peter, who sent 
 him a fine feather for his cap, 1 to be worn by him and his 
 successors, as a perpetual mark for his bold defence of Lord 
 Peter's cause. How Harry, flushed with his pretended vic- 
 tory over Martin, began to huff Peter also, and at last down- 
 right quarrelled with him about a wench. 2 How some of 
 Lord Harry's tenants, ever fond of changes, began to talk 
 kindly of Martin, for which he mauled them soundly, as he 
 did also those that adhered to Peter. How he turned some 
 out of house and hold, others he hanged or burnt, &c. 
 
 How Harry Huff, after a good deal of blustering, wench- 
 ing, and bullying, died, and was succeeded by a good-natured 
 boy, 3 who, giving way to the general bent of his tenants, al- 
 lowed Martin's notions to spread everywhere, and take deep 
 root in Albion. How, after his death, the farm fell into the 
 hands of a lady, who was violently in love with Lord Peter.* 
 How she purged the whole country with fire and sword, re- 
 solved not to leave the name or remembrance of Martin. 
 How Peter triumphed, and set up shops again for selling his 
 own powders, plaisters, and salves, which were now called 
 the only true ones, Martin's being all declared counterfeit. 
 How great numbers of Martin's friends left the country, and, 
 travelling up and down in foreign parts, grew acquainted with 
 many of Jack's followers, and took a liking to many of their 
 notions and ways ; which they afterwards brought back into 
 Albion, now under another landlady, more moderate and 
 more cunning than the former, her elder sister. 5 How she en- 
 deavoured to keep friendship both with Peter and Martin, and 
 trimmed for some time between the two, not without counten- 
 ancing and assisting at the same time many of Jack's followers; 
 but, finding no possibility of reconciling all the three brothers, 
 because each would be master, and allow no other salves, 
 powders, or plaisters to be used but his own, she discarded 
 all three, and set up a shop for those of her own farm, well 
 furnished with powders, plaisters, salves, and all other drugs 
 
 1 The title of " Defender of the Faith." [S.] 
 
 2 Ann Boleyn. [S.J 3 Edward VI. [S.] 
 
 * Queen Mary. [S.] 5 Queen Elizabeth. [S.]
 
 I48 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 necessary, all right and true, composed according to receipts 
 made by physicians and apothecaries of her own creating, 
 which they extracted out of Peter's, and Martin's, and Jack's 
 receipt-books, and of this medley or hodgepodge, made up a 
 dispensatory of their own, strictly forbidding any other to be 
 used, and particularly Peter's ; from which the greatest part 
 of this new dispensatory was stolen. How the lady, farther 
 to confirm this change, wisely imitating her father, degraded 
 Peter from the rank he pretended as eldest brother, and set 
 up herself in his place as head of the family, and ever after 
 wore her father's old cap, with the fine feather he had got 
 from Peter for standing his friend ; which has likewise been 
 worn with no small ostentation, to this day, by all her suc- 
 cessors, though declared enemies to Peter. 1 How Lady 
 Bess and her physicians, being told of many defects and im- 
 perfections in their new medley dispensatory, resolved on a 
 farther alteration ; and to purge it from a great deal of Peter's 
 trash, that still remained in it, but were prevented by her 
 death. How she was succeeded by a north-country farmer, 
 who pretended great skill in the managing of farms, though 
 he could never govern his own poor little farm, nor yet this 
 large new one after he got it. 2 How this new landlord, to 
 shew his valour and dexterity, fought against enchanters, 
 weeds, giants, and wind-mills, and claimed great honour for 
 his victories, though he oft-times b-sh-t himself when there 
 was no danger. 3 How his successor, no wiser than he, occa- 
 sioned great disorders by the new methods he took to 
 manage his farms. How he attempted to establish in his 
 northern farm, the same dispensatory used in the southern, 
 but miscarried; because Jack's powders, pills, salves, and 
 plaisters, were there in great vogue. 
 
 How the author finds himself embarrassed for having in- 
 troduced into his history a new sect different from the three 
 he had undertaken to treat of; and how his inviolable 
 respect to the sacred number three, obliges him to reduce 
 these four, as he intends to do all other things, to that 
 number ; and for that end to drop the former Martin, and to 
 
 1 Claimed the title of Head of the Church, and retained that of 
 Defender of the Faith. [S.] 
 
 2 James I. [S.] 
 
 3 King James's works on Demonology. [T. S.]
 
 A DIGRESSION OF WARS. 149 
 
 substitute in his place Lady Bess's institution, which is to 
 pass under the name of Martin in the sequel of this true 
 history. This weighty point being cleared, the author goes 
 on, and describes mighty quarrels between Jack and Martin; 1 
 how sometimes the one had the better, and sometimes the 
 other, to the great desolation of both farms ; till at last both 
 sides concur to hang up the landlord, who pretended to die 
 a martyr for Martin ; though he had been true to neither side, 
 and was suspected by many to have a great affection for 
 Peter. 2 
 
 A DIGRESSION ON THE NATURE, USEFULNESS, AND NECES- 
 SITY OF WARS AND QUARRELS. 
 
 This being a matter of great consequence, the author intends 
 to treat it methodically and at large in a treatise apart ; and 
 here to give only some hints of what his large treatise con- 
 tains. The state of war natural to all creatures. War is an 
 attempt to take by violence from others a part of what they 
 have and we want. Every man, fully sensible of his own 
 merit, and finding it not duly regarded by others, has a 
 natural right to take from them all that he thinks due to him- 
 self; and every creature, finding its own wants more than 
 those of others, has the same right to take everything its 
 nature requires. Brutes, much more modest in their pre- 
 tensions this way than men, and mean men more than great 
 ones. The higher one raises his pretensions this way, the 
 more bustle he makes about them ; and the more success he 
 has, the greater hero. Thus greater souls, in proportion to 
 their superior merit, claim a greater right to take everything 
 from meaner folks. This the true foundation of grandeur 
 and heroism, and of the distinction of degrees among men. 
 War, therefore, necessary to establish subordination, and to 
 found cities, kingdoms, &c, as also to purge bodies politic 
 of gross humours. Wise princes find it necessary to have 
 wars abroad, to keep peace at home. War, famine, and 
 pestilence, the usual cures for corruptions in bodies politic. 
 A comparison of these three. The author is to write a 
 panegyric on each of them. The greatest part of mankind 
 
 1 The Great Civil War. [S.] 2 Charles I. [S.]
 
 150 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 loves war more than peace. They are but few and mean- 
 spirited that live in peace with all men. The modest and 
 meek of all kinds always a prey to those of more noble 
 or stronger appetites. The inclination to war universal; 
 those that cannot, or dare not, make war in person employ 
 others to do it for them. This maintains bullies, bravoes, 
 cut-throats, lawyers, soldiers, &c. Most professions would 
 be useless, if all were peaceable. Hence brutes want neither 
 smiths nor lawyers, magistrates nor joiners, soldiers nor 
 surgeons. Brutes, having but narrow appetites, are incapable 
 of carrying on or perpetuating war against their own species, 
 or of being led out in troops and multitudes to destroy one 
 another. These prerogatives proper to man alone. The 
 excellency of human nature demonstrated by the vast train 
 of appetites, passions, wants, &c, that attend it. This 
 matter to be more fully treated in the author's Panegyric on 
 Mankind. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF MARTIN, continued. 
 
 How Jack, having got rid of the old landlord, set up another 
 to his mind, 1 quarrelled with Martin, and turned him out of 
 doors. How he pillaged all his shops, and abolished the 
 whole dispensatory. How the new landlord laid about him, 
 mauled Peter, worried Martin, and made the whole neigh- 
 bourhood tremble. How Jack's friends fell out among 
 themselves, split into a thousand parties, and turned all things 
 topsyturvey, till everybody grew weary of them ; and at last, 
 the blustering landlord dying, Jack was kicked out of doors, 
 a new landlord brought in, and Martin re-established. 2 How 
 this new landlord let Martin do what he pleased, and Martin 
 agreed to everything his pious landlord desired, provided 
 Jack might be kept low. Of several efforts Jack made to 
 raise up his head, but all in vain ; till at last the landlord 
 died, and was succeeded by one who was a great friend to 
 Peter, who, to humble Martin, gave Jack some liberty.* 
 How Martin grew enraged at this, called in a foreigner,* and 
 
 1 Cromwell. [S.] 2 The Restoration. [S.] 
 
 ' Indulgences to sectaries during the reign of James II. [S.] 
 
 * William III. [S.]
 
 THE HISTORY OF MARTIN. 151 
 
 turned out the landlord ; in which Jack concurred with 
 Martin, because this landlord was entirely devoted to Peter, 
 into whose arms he threw himself, and left his country. 1 
 How the new landlord secured Martin in the full possession 
 of his former rights, but would not allow him to destroy Jack, 
 who had always been his friend. How Jack got up his head 
 in the north, and put himself in possession of a whole canton, 2 
 to the great discontent of Martin, who, finding also that some 
 of Jack's friends were allowed to live and get their bread in 
 the south parts of the country, grew highly discontent with 
 the new landlord he had called in to his assistance. How 
 this landlord kept Martin in order ; upon which he fell into a 
 raging fever, and swore he would hang himself, or join in 
 with Peter, unless Jack's children were all turned out to 
 starve. 3 Of several attempts made to cure Martin, and make 
 peace between him and Jack, that they might unite against 
 Peter; but all made ineffectual by the great address of a 
 number of Peter's friends, that herded among Martin's, and 
 appeared the most zealous for his interest. How Martin, 
 getting abroad in this mad fit, looked so like Peter in his 
 air and dress, and talked so like him, that many of the 
 neighbours could not distinguish the one from the other ; 
 especially when Martin went up and down strutting in Peter's 
 armour, which he had borrowed to fight Jack.* What reme- 
 dies were used to cure Martin's distemper, * * * * 
 
 Here the author being seized with a fit of dulness, (to 
 which he is very subject,) after having read a poetical epistle 
 addressed to ***, it entirely composed his senses, so that he 
 has not writ a line since. 
 
 N.B. Some things that follow after this are not in the 
 MS. but seem to have been written since, to fill up the 
 place of what was not thought convenient then to print. 
 
 1 The Revolution of 1688. [T. S.] 
 
 2 The establishment of Presbyterianism in Scotland. [T. S.] 
 
 3 Clamour that the church was in danger from the dissenters. [S.] 
 1 High Church versus Dissent. [T. S.]
 
 152 A TALE OF A TUB. 
 
 A PROJECT 
 
 FOR THE UNIVERSAL BENEFIT OF MANKIND. 
 
 THE author, having laboured so long, and done so much, 
 to serve and instruct the public, without any advantage 
 to himself, has at last thought of a project, which will tend to 
 the great benefit of all mankind, and produce a handsome 
 revenue to the author. He intends to print by subscrip- 
 tion, in 96 large volumes in folio, an exact description of 
 Terra Australis incognita ; l collected with great care and 
 pains from 999 learned and pious authors, of undoubted 
 veracity. The whole work, illustrated with maps and cuts 
 agreeable to the subject, and done by the best masters, 
 will cost but one guinea each volume to subscribers ; one 
 guinea to be paid in advance, and afterwards a guinea on 
 receiving each volume, except the last. This work will be of 
 great use for all men, and necessary for all families ; because 
 it contains exact accounts of all the provinces, colonies, and 
 mansions of that spacious country, where, by a general doom, 
 all transgressors of the law are to be transported ; and every 
 one having this work, may choose out the fittest and best 
 place for himself, there being enough for all, so as every one 
 shall be fully satisfied. 
 
 The author supposes that one copy of this work will be 
 bought at the public charge, or out of the parish rates, for 
 every parish-church in the three kingdoms, and in all the 
 dominions thereunto belonging ; and that every family that 
 can command ten pounds per annum, even though re- 
 trenched from less necessary expenses, will subscribe for one. 
 He does not think of giving out above nine volumes yearly ; 
 and considering the number requisite, he intends to print at 
 least 100,000 for the first edition. He is to print proposals 
 against next term, with a specimen, and a curious map of 
 the capital city, with its twelve gates, from a known author, 
 who took an exact survey of it in a dream. 2 Considering the 
 
 1 See " Tale," Sect. IV. [T. S.] 
 
 2 St. John's vision in Revelation. Nichols thinks this refers to 
 Bunyan. [T. S.]
 
 A PROJECT FOR THE BENEFIT OF MANKIND. 1 53 
 
 great care and pains of the author, and the usefulness of the 
 work, he hopes every one will be ready, for their own good 
 as well as his, to contribute cheerfully to it, and not grudge 
 him the profit he may have by it, especially if it comes to 
 a third or fourth edition, as he expects it will very soon. 
 
 He doubts not but it will be translated into foreign 
 languages, by most nations of Europe, as well as of Asia and 
 Africa, being of as great use to all those nations as to his 
 own ; for this reason, ne designs to procure patents and 
 privileges for securing the whole benefit to himself, from all 
 those different princes and states, and hopes to see many 
 millions of this great work printed, in those different countries 
 and languages, before his death. 
 
 After this business is pretty well established, he has pro- 
 mised to put a friend on another project, almost as good as 
 this, by establishing insurance offices everywhere, for securing 
 people from shipwreck, and several other accidents in their 
 voyage to this country ; and these offices shall furnish, at a 
 certain rate, pilots well versed in the route, and that know 
 all the rocks, shelves, quicksands, &c, that such pilgrims and 
 travellers may be exposed to. Of these he knows a great 
 number ready instructed in most countries ; but the whole 
 scheme of this matter he is to draw up at large, and commu- 
 nicate to his friend. 
 
 [Here (says the Dutch Editor) the original MS. ended.]
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
 
 A SOMEWHAT silly controversy had been raised in France by Fontenelle 
 and Perrault respecting the superiority of the learning of the France of 
 Louis XIV. over that of the ancients. They contended that Thucy- 
 dides, Cicero, Pliny, and Horace were inferior to the Bishop of Meaux, 
 Balsac, Voiture, and Boileau. Much writing and feeling were expended 
 in the progress of the dispute, which was carried on even in England, 
 though here it was not confined to French civilization merely. In answer 
 to Perrault, Sir William Temple, Swift's patron, wrote his " Essay upon 
 the Ancient and Modern Learning," — published in "Miscellanea. 
 The Second Part." 1690 — in which, through an over-indulgence in 
 ardour, he made statements on behalf of the writers of antiquity as 
 champions. To this essay, William Wotton wrote a somewhat scathing 
 reply. One of Temple's proofs for the superiority of ancient learning 
 was the " Epistles of Phalaris ; " Temple had considered these letters to 
 be one of the triumphs of antiquity. At Oxford, the Christ Church 
 scholars took Temple's view, and an edition of Phalaris was issued under 
 the editorship of the Honourable Charles Boyle, afterwards Earl of 
 Orrery. Boyle, not content with fulfilling the duties of an editor, took 
 occasion in the preface to sneer at Dr. Bentley, the Librarian of St. 
 James's Library, for withdrawing the manuscript of the spurious letters, 
 which Boyle had borrowed from the Library, before he had quite done 
 with it. Bentley, irritated as much by the presumption of the ignorant 
 editor as by the sneer, supplied an appendix to the second edition of 
 Wotton's " Reflections upon Ancient and Modern Learning," in which 
 he conclusively showed that the " letters " were absolutely spurious. Out 
 of this arose the smaller controversy respecting Phalaris in which 
 Boyle, Atterbury, and finally Swift took part. Swift, as Temple's client, 
 took his patron's side, and his contribution, " The Battle of the Books," 
 is perhaps the only valuable fruit of as silly a sally as ever diverted the 
 minds of wits. Mr. Forster rightly calls "The Battle" "a triumphant 
 piece of humour." The work may now be considered as in itself an 
 argument against Temple's assertion, since one may look far and wide 
 among the literature of the ancients for satire so scathing or humour so 
 sarcastic. [T. S.]
 
 A 
 
 Full and True Account 
 
 OF THE 
 
 BATTEL 
 
 Fought laft F ( BJT)AT, 
 
 Between the 
 
 Antient and the Modern 
 
 BOOKS 
 
 I N 
 
 St. J AMES' % 
 
 LIBRARY. 
 
 LO N D N : 
 Printed in the Year, MDCCX.
 
 THE BOOKSELLER TO THE 
 READER. 1 
 
 THE following Discourse, as it is unquestionably of 
 the same author, so it seems to have been written 
 about the same time with the former ; I mean the year 1697, 
 when the famous dispute was on foot about ancient and 
 modern learning. The controversy took its rise from an 
 essay of Sir William Temple's upon that subject, which was 
 answered by W. Wotton, B.D., 2 with an Appendix by Dr. 
 Bentley, endeavouring to destroy the credit of ^Esop and 
 Phalaris for authors, whom Sir William Temple had, in the 
 essay before mentioned, highly commended. In that ap- 
 pendix, the doctor falls hard upon a new edition of Phalaris, 
 put out by the Honourable Charles Boyle, 3 now Earl of 
 Orrery, to which Mr. Boyle replied at large, with great 
 learning and wit ; and the doctor voluminously rejoined. In 
 
 1 On the face of it, this preface shows none of the characteristics of 
 Swift's writings. In all probability it was written by some person em- 
 ployed by the publisher to furnish an explanation of the causes which 
 gave birth to Swift's work. The " Account " had been in manuscript 
 some seven years, so that the explanation was, perhaps, necessary. 
 [T. S.] 
 
 2 William Wotton, D.D. (1666-1726), known in his time as "the 
 polyglot infant," was a fellow of St. John's College, Cambridge. He 
 obtained his bachelor's degree when he was but thirteen years of age, 
 and at twenty-seven was rector of Middleton Keynes. In 1705 he was 
 appointed prebendary of Salisbury. In addition to his " Reflections on 
 Ancient and Modern Learning," he wrote a " History of Rome," 
 " Discourses relating to the Traditions and Usages of the Scribes and 
 Pharisees," and a host of other books. [T. S.] 
 
 3 Boyle's edition of the "Letters of Phalaris," in the preparation of 
 which Dr. Atterbury and John Freind largely assisted, was published 
 in 1695 — five years after Temple's " Essay," and the year following the 
 appearance of Wotton's " Reflections." To Bentley's appendix to the 
 second edition of Wotton's work (1697) Boyle replied in 1698, and 
 Bentley, in 1699, re-issued his Appendix in a separate and more ex- 
 tended form, with the title, "A Dissertation upon the Epistles of 
 Phalaris." For a list of the tracts and pamphlets relating to this con- 
 troversy, see Dyce's edition of Bentley's Works, vol. i, pp. xi-xix. [T. S.]
 
 l60 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 this dispute, the town highly resented to see a person of Sir 
 William Temple's character and methods roughly used by 
 the two reverend gentlemen aforesaid, and without any 
 manner of provocation. At length, there appearing no end 
 of the quarrel, our author tells us, that the BOOKS in St. 
 James's Library, looking upon themselves as parties princi- 
 pally concerned, took up the controversy, and came to a de- 
 cisive battle ; but the manuscript, by the injury of fortune 
 or weather, being in several places imperfect, we cannot 
 learn to which side the victory fell. 
 
 I must warn the reader to beware of applying to persons 
 what is here meant only of books, in the most literal sense. 
 So, when Virgil is mentioned, we are not to understand the 
 person of a famous poet called by that name, but only 
 certain sheets of paper, bound up in leather, containing in 
 print the works of the said poet ; and so of the rest. 
 
 THE PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 C*A TIRE is a sort of glass, wherein beholders do generally 
 w_5 discover everybody's face but their own ; which is the chief 
 reason for that kind reception it meets with in the world, and 
 that so very few are offended with it. But, if it should 
 happen otherwise, the danger is not great ; and I have learned, 
 from long experience, never to apprehend mischief from those 
 understandings I have been able to provoke ; for anger and 
 fury, though they add strength to the sinews of the body, yet are 
 found to relax those of the mind, and to render all its efforts 
 feeble and impotent. 
 
 There is a brain that will endure but. one scumming; let the 
 owner gather it with discretion, and manage his little stock 
 with husbandry ; but, of all things, let him beware of bringing 
 it under the lash of his betters, because that will make it all 
 bubble up into impertinence, and he will find no new supply. 
 
 Wit, without knowledge, being a sort of cream, which gathers 
 in a night to the top, and, by a skilful hand, may be soon 
 whipped into froth ; but, once scummed away, 7vhai appears 
 underneath will be fit for nothing but to be thrown to the hogs.
 
 A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF 
 THE BATTLE FOUGHT LAST 
 FRIDAY, &c. 
 
 WHOEVER examines, with due circumspection, into 
 the Annual Records of Time, 1 will find it remarked, 
 that war is the child of pride, and pride the daughter of 
 riches. The former of which assertions may be soon granted, 
 but one cannot so easily subscribe to the latter ; for pride is 
 nearly related to beggary and want, either by father or mother, 
 and sometimes by both : and, to speak naturally, it very 
 seldom happens among men to fall out when all have enough ; 
 invasions usually travelling from north to south, that is to 
 say, from poverty to plenty. The most ancient and natural 
 grounds of quarrels, are lust and avarice ; which, though we 
 may allow to be brethren, or collateral branches of pride, are 
 certainly the issues of want. For, to speak in the phrase of 
 writers upon politics, we may observe in the Republic of 
 Dogs, (which, in its original, seems to be an institution of the 
 many,) that the whole state is ever in the profoundest peace 
 after a full meal ; and that civil broils arise among them when 
 it happens for one great bone to be seized on by some leading 
 dog, who either divides it among the few, and then it falls to 
 an oligarchy, or keeps it to himself, and then it runs up to a 
 tyranny. The same reasoning also holds place among them 
 in those dissensions we behold upon a turgescency in any of 
 their females. For the right of possession lying in common, 
 (it being impossible to establish a property in so delicate a 
 case,) jealousies and suspicions do so abound, that the whole 
 
 ' Riches produceth pride; pride is war's ground, &c. Vide Ephem. 
 de Mary Clarke ; opt. edit. [Orig. Note.] The reference is to Vincent 
 Wing's sheet almanack "printed by Mary Clark for the Company of 
 Stationers." [W. S. J.] 
 
 I. M
 
 1 62 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 commonwealth of that street is reduced to a manifest state 
 of war, of every citizen against every citizen, till some one, of 
 more courage, conduct, or fortune than the rest, seizes and 
 enjoys the prize ; upon which naturally arises plenty of heart- 
 burning, and envy, and snarling against the happy dog. 
 Again, if we look upon any of those republics engaged in a 
 foreign war, either of invasion or defence, we shall find the 
 same reasoning will serve as to the grounds and occasions of 
 each, and that poverty or want, in some degree or other, 
 (whether real or in opinion, which makes no alteration in the 
 case,) has a great share, as well as pride, on the part of the 
 aggressor. 
 
 Now, whoever will please to take this scheme, and either 
 reduce or adapt it to an intellectual state, or commonwealth 
 of learning, will soon discover the first ground of disagree- 
 ment between the two great parties at this time in arms, and 
 may form just conclusions upon the merits of either cause. 
 But the issue or events of this war are not so easy to conjecture 
 at ; for the present quarrel is so inflamed by the warm heads 
 of either faction, and the pretensions somewhere or other so 
 exorbitant, as not to admit the least overtures of accommoda- 
 tion. This quarrel first began, (as I have heard it affirmed 
 by an old dweller in the neighbourhood,) about a small spot 
 of ground, lying and being upon one of the two tops of the 
 hill Parnassus ; the highest and largest of which had, it seems, 
 been time out of mind in quiet possession of certain tenants, 
 called the Ancients, and the other was held by the Moderns. 
 But these, disliking their present station, sent certain am- 
 bassadors to the Ancients, complaining of a great nuisance ; 
 how the height of that part of Parnassus quite spoiled the 
 prospect of theirs, especially towards the east ; l and there- 
 fore, to avoid a war, offered them the choice of this alterna- 
 tive — either that the Ancients would remove themselves and 
 their effects down to the lower summity, which the Moderns 
 would graciously surrender to them, and advance in their 
 place ; or else the said Ancients will give leave to the 
 Moderns to come with shovels and mattocks, and level the 
 
 1 Sir William Temple affects to trace the progress of arts and sciences 
 from east to west. Thus the moderns had only such knowledge of the 
 learning of Chaldaea and Egypt as was conveyed to them through the 
 medium of Grecian and Roman writers. [S.]
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 163 
 
 said hill as low as they shall think it convenient. To which the 
 Ancients made answer, how little they expected such a message 
 as this from a colony whom they had admitted, out of their own 
 free grace, to so near a neighbourhood. That, as to their 
 own seat, they were aborigines of it, and therefore, to talk with 
 them of a removal or surrender, was a language they did not 
 understand. That if the height of the hill on their side 
 shortened the prospect of the Moderns, it was a disadvantage 
 they could not help ; but desired them to consider, whether 
 that injury (if it be any) were not largely recompensed by 
 the shade and shelter it afforded them. That as to the 
 levelling or digging down, it was either folly or ignorance to 
 propose it, if they did, or did not know, how that side of the 
 hill was an entire rock, which would break their tools and 
 hearts, without any damage to itself. That they would there- 
 fore advise the Moderns rather to raise their own side of the 
 hill, than dream of pulling down that of the Ancients ; to the 
 former of which they would not only give licence, but also 
 largely contribute. All this was rejected by the Moderns 
 with much indignation, who still insisted upon one of the two 
 expedients ; and so this difference broke out into a long 
 and obstinate war, maintained on the one part by resolution, 
 and by the courage of certain leaders and allies ; but on the 
 other, by the greatness of their number, upon all defeats 
 affording continual recruits. In this quarrel whole rivulets 
 of ink have been exhausted, and the virulence of both 
 parties enormously augmented. Now, it must here be 
 understood, that ink is the great missive weapon in all 
 battles of the learned, which, conveyed through a sort of 
 engine called a quill, infinite numbers of these are darted at 
 the enemy, by the valiant on each side, with equal skill and 
 violence, as if it were an engagement of porcupines. This 
 malignant liquor was compounded, by the engineer who in- 
 vented it, of two ingredients, which are gall and copperas ; 
 by its bitterness and venom to suit, in some degree, as well 
 as to foment, the genius of the combatants. And as the 
 Grecians, after an engagement, when they could not agree 
 about the victory, were wont to set up trophies on both sides, 
 the beaten party being content to be at the same expense, 
 to keep itself in countenance; (a laudable and ancient custom, 
 happily revived of late, in the art of war ;) so the learned,
 
 164 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 after a sharp and bloody dispute, do, on both sides, hang 
 out their trophies too, whichever comes by the worst. 
 These trophies have largely inscribed on them the merits of 
 the cause, a full impartial account of such a battle, and how 
 the victory fell clearly to the party that set them up. They 
 are known to the world under several names ; as disputes, 
 arguments, rejoinders, brief considerations, answers, replies, 
 remarks, reflections, objections, confutations. For a very 
 few days they are fixed up in all public places, either by 
 themselves or their representatives, 1 for passengers to gaze 
 at ; whence the chiefest and largest are removed to certain 
 magazines they call libraries, there to remain in a quarter 
 purposely assigned them, and thenceforth begin to be called 
 Books of Controversy 
 
 In these books is wonderfully instilled and preserved the 
 spirit of each warrior, while he is alive ; and after his death 
 his soul transmigrates there to inform them. This at least 
 is the more common opinion ; but I believe it is with 
 libraries as with other cemeteries, where some philosophers 
 affirm, that a certain spirit, which they call brutum hominis, 
 hovers over the monument, till the body is corrupted and 
 turns to dust or to worms, but then vanishes or dissolves : 
 So, we may say, a restless spirit haunts over every book, till 
 dust or worms have seized upon it, which to some may 
 happen in a few days, but to others later; and, therefore, 
 books of controversy being, of all others, haunted by the 
 most disorderly spirits, have always been confined in a sepa- 
 rate lodge from the rest ; and, for fear of a mutual violence 
 against each other, it was thought prudent by our ancestors 
 to bind them to the peace with strong iron chains. Of 
 which invention the original occasion was this — When the 
 works of Scotus first came out, they were carried to a certain 
 library and had lodgings appointed them ; but this author 
 was no sooner settled than he went to visit his master 
 Aristotle ; and there both concerted together to seize Plato 
 by main force, and turn him out from his ancient station 
 among the divines, where he had peaceably dwelt near eight 
 hundred years. The attempt succeeded, and the two usurpers 
 have reigned ever since in his stead : but to maintain quiet 
 
 1 Their title-pages.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 165 
 
 for the future, it was decreed, that all poleniics of the larger 
 size should be held fast with a chain. 
 
 By this expedient, the public peace of libraries might cer- 
 tainly have been preserved, if a new species of controversial 
 books had not arose of late years, instinct with a more 
 malignant spirit, from the war above mentioned between the 
 learned, about the higher summit of Par?iasstis. 
 
 When these books were first admitted into the public 
 libraries, I remember to have said, upon occasion, to several 
 persons concerned, how I was sure they would create broils 
 wherever they came, unless a world of care were taken ; and 
 therefore I advised, that the champions of each side should 
 be coupled together, or otherwise mixed, that, like the blend- 
 ing of contrary poisons, their malignity might be employed 
 among themselves. And it seems I was neither an ill 
 prophet, nor an ill counsellor ; for it was nothing else but 
 the neglect of this caution which gave occasion to the terrible 
 fight that happened on Friday last, between the ancient and 
 modern books, in the King's Library. Now, because the 
 talk of this battle is so fresh in everybody's mouth, and the 
 expectation of the town so great to be informed in the par- 
 ticulars, I, being possessed of all qualifications requisite in 
 an historian, and retained by neither party, have resolved to 
 comply with the urgent importunity of my friends, by writing 
 down a full impartial account thereof. 
 
 The guardian of the regal library, 1 a person of great valour, 
 but chiefly renowned for his humanity," had been a fierce 
 champion for the Moderns; and, in an engagement upon 
 Parnassus, had vowed, with his own hands, to knock down 
 two of the Ancient chiefs, 3 who guarded a small pass on the 
 superior rock ; but, endeavouring to climb up, was cruelly 
 
 1 Dr. Bentley, appointed Royal Librarian, 12th April, 1694, upon 
 the death of his predecessor, Mr. Justell. [T. S.] 
 
 3 The Honourable Mr. Boyle, in the preface to his edition of Phalaris, 
 says he was refused a manuscript by the library keeper, pro solita 
 humanitate sud. 
 
 Ibid. This was the sparkle which kindled so hot a flame. Dr. Bentley 
 does not quite clear himself of having been a little churlish concerning 
 the manuscript, and even of having expressed an opinion very unworthy 
 of his good sense and learning, that, when collated, it was lessened in 
 value, and no better than a squeezed orange. [S.] 
 
 8 Dr. Bentley wrote an appendix to Wotton's ' ' Reflections upon
 
 1 66 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 obstructed by his own unhappy weight, and tendency to- 
 wards his centre a quality to which those of the Modern 
 party are extreme subject ; for, being light-headed, they have, 
 in speculation, a wonderful agility, and conceive nothing too 
 high for them to mount ; but, in reducing to practice, discover 
 a mighty pressure about their posteriors and their heels. 
 Having thus failed in his design, the disappointed champion 
 bore a cruel rancour to the Ancients, which he resolved to 
 gratify, by shewing all marks of his favour to the books of 
 their adversaries, and lodging them in the fairest apartments ; 
 when, at the same time, whatever book had the boldness to 
 own itself for an advocate of the Ancients, was buried alive 
 in some obscure corner, and threatened, upon the least dis- 
 pleasure, to be turned out of doors. Besides, it so happened, 
 that about this time there was a strange confusion of place 
 among all the books in the library ; for which several reasons 
 were assigned. Some imputed it to a great heap of learned 
 dust, which a perverse wind blew off from a shelf of Moderns, 
 into the keeper's eyes. Others affirmed he had a humour 
 to pick the worms out of the schoolmen, and swallow them 
 fresh and fasting ; whereof some fell upon his spleen, and 
 some climbed up into his head, to the great perturbation of 
 both. And lastly, others maintained, that, by walking much 
 in the dark about the library, he had quite lost the situation 
 of it out of his head ; and, therefore, in replacing his books, 
 he was apt to mistake, and clap Des Cartes next to Aristotle ; 
 poor Plato had got between Hobbes and the Seven Wise 
 Masters, and Virgil was hemmed in with Dryden on one 
 side, and Withers on the other. 
 
 Meanwhile those books that were advocates for the Mo- 
 derns, chose out one from among them to make a progress 
 through the whole library, examine the number and strength 
 of their party, and concert their affairs. This messenger per- 
 formed all things very industriously, and brought back with 
 him a list of their forces, in all fifty thousand, consisting 
 chiefly of light-horse, heavy-armed foot, and mercenaries ; 
 whereof the foot were in general but sorrily armed, and 
 
 Ancient and Modern Learning " (second edition), in which he proved 
 the works of Phalaris and ^Esop to be spurious. See preliminary note 
 to "The Battle of the Books." [T. S.]
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 167 
 
 t 
 
 worse clad ; their horses large, but extremely out of case and 
 heart ; however, some few, by trading among the Ancients, 
 had furnished themselves tolerably enough. 
 
 While things were in this ferment, discord grew extremely 
 high ; hot words passed on both sides, and ill blood was 
 plentifully bred. Here a solitary Ancient, squeezed up 
 among a whole shelf of Moderns, offered fairly to dispute 
 the case, and to prove by manifest reason, that the priority 
 was due to them, from long possession ; and in regard of 
 their prudence, antiquity, and, above all, their great merits 
 toward the Moderns. But these denied the premises, and 
 seemed very much to wonder, how the Ancients could pre- 
 tend to insist upon their antiquity, when it was so plain, (if 
 they went to that,) that the Moderns were much the more 
 ancient 1 of the two. As for any obligations they owed to 
 the Ancients, they renounced them all. "'Tis true;" said 
 they, " we are informed, some few of our party have been so 
 mean to borrow their subsistence from you ; but the rest, 
 infinitely the greater number, (and especially we French and 
 English,) were so far from stooping to so base an example, 
 that there never passed, till this very hour, six words between 
 us. For our horses were of our own breeding, our arms of 
 our own forging, and our clothes of our own cutting out and 
 sewing." Plato was by chance up on the next shelf, and 
 observing those that spoke to be in the ragged plight men- 
 ffened a while ago ; their jades lean and foundered, their 
 weapons of rotten wood, their armour rusty, and nothing but 
 rags underneath ; he laughed loud, and in his pleasant way 
 swore, by G — he believed them. 
 
 Now, the Moderns had not proceeded in their late nego- 
 tiation with secrecy enough to escape the notice of the enemy. 
 For those advocates, who had begun the quarrel by setting 
 first on foot the dispute of precedency, talked so loud of 
 coming to a battle, that Temple happened to overhear 
 them, and gave immediate intelligence to the Ancients, who, 
 thereupon, drew up their scattered troops together, resolving 
 to act upon the defensive ; upon which, several of the 
 Moderns fled over to their party, and among the rest Temple 
 himself. This Temple, having been educated and long con- 
 
 1 According to tfie modern paradox.
 
 1 68 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 versed among the Ancients, was, of all the Moderns, their 
 greatest favourite, and became their greatest champion. 
 
 Things were at this crisis, when a material accident fell 
 out. For, upon the highest corner of a large window, there 
 dwelt a certain spider, swollen up to the first magnitude by 
 the destruction of infinite numbers of flies, whose spoils lay 
 scattered before the gates of his palace, like human bones 
 before the cave of some giant. The avenues to his castle 
 were guarded with turnpikes and palisadoes, all after the 
 modern way of fortification. 1 After you had passed several 
 courts, you came to the centre, wherein you might behold 
 the constable himself in his own lodgings, which had windows 
 fronting to each avenue, and ports to sally out, upon all 
 occasions of prey or defence. In this mansion he had for 
 some time dwelt in peace and plenty, without danger to his 
 person by swallows from above, or to his palace, by brooms 
 from below ; when it was the pleasure of fortune to conduct 
 thither a wandering bee, to whose curiosity a broken pane in 
 the glass had discovered itself, and in he went ; where, expa- 
 tiating a while, he at last happened to alight upon one of the 
 outward walls of the spider's citadel ; which, yielding to the 
 unequal weight, sunk down to the very foundation. Thrice 
 he endeavoured to force his passage, and thrice the centre 
 shook. The spider within, feeling the terrible convulsion, 
 supposed at first that nature was approaching to her final 
 dissolution ; or else, that Beelzebub, 2 with all his legions, 
 was come to revenge the death of many thousands of his 
 subjects, whom his enemy had slain and devoured. How- 
 ever, he at length valiantly resolved to issue forth, and meet 
 his fate. Meanwhile the bee had acquitted himself of his 
 toils, and, posted securely at some distance, was employed in 
 cleansing his wings, and disengaging them from the ragged 
 remnants of the cobweb. By this time the spider was ad- 
 ventured out, when, beholding the chasms, the ruins, and 
 dilapidations of his fortress, he was very near at his wit's end ; 
 he stormed and swore like a madman, and swelled till he 
 
 1 Fortification was one of the arts, upon the improvement of which 
 the argument in favour of the moderns was founded by their advocates 
 [S.] 
 
 2 Supposed to be the tutelar deity ofcthe flies. [S.j
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 1 69 
 
 was ready to burst. At length, casting his eye upon the bee, 
 and wisely gathering causes from events, (for they knew each 
 other by sight) : " A plague split you," said he, " for a giddy 
 son of a whore. Is it you, with a vengeance, that have made 
 this litter here ? Could not you look before you, and be 
 d — d ? Do you think I have nothing else to do (in the devil's 
 name) but to mend and repair after your arse ? " — " Good 
 words, friend," said the bee, (having now pruned himself, 
 and being disposed to droll,) " I'll give you my hand and 
 word to come near your kennel no more ; I was never in 
 such a confounded pickle since I was born." — " Sirrah," re- 
 plied the spider, " if it were not for breaking an old custom 
 in our family, never to stir abroad against an enemy, I 
 should come and teach you better manners." — " I pray have 
 patience," said the bee, "or you'll spend your substance, and, 
 for aught I see, you may stand in need of it all, toward the 
 repair of your house." — " Rogue, rogue," replied the spider, 
 " yet, methinks you should have more respect to a person, 
 whom all the world allows to be so much your betters." — 
 " By my troth," said the bee, "the comparison will amount 
 to a very good jest, and you will do me a favour to let me 
 know the reasons that all the world is pleased to use in so 
 hopeful a dispute." At this the spider, having swelled him- 
 self into the size and posture of a disputant, began his argu- 
 ment in the true spirit of controversy, with resolution to be 
 heartily scurrilous and angry, to urge on his own reasons, 
 without the least regard to the answers or objections of his 
 opposite, and fully predetermined in his mind against all 
 conviction. 
 
 " Not to disparage myself," said he, " by the comparison 
 with such a rascal, what art thou but a vagabond without 
 house or home, without stock or inheritance ? Born to no 
 possession of your own, but a pair of wings and a drone-pipe. 
 Your livelihood is a universal plunder upon nature ; a free- 
 booter over fields and gardens ; and, for the sake of stealing, 
 will rob a nettle as easily as a violet. Whereas I am a do- 
 mestic animal, furnished with a native stock within myself. 
 This large castle (to shew my improvements in the mathe- 
 matics) is all built with my own hands, and the materials 
 extracted altogether out of my own person." 
 
 "I am glad," answered the bee, "to hear you grant at
 
 170 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 least that I am come honestly by my wings and my voice ; 
 for then, it seems, I am obliged to Heaven alone for my 
 flights and my music ; and Providence would never have 
 bestowed on me two such gifts, without designing them for 
 the noblest ends. I visit indeed all the flowers and blossoms 
 of the field and garden ; but whatever I collect thence, en- 
 riches myself, without the least injury to their beauty, their 
 smell, or their taste. Now, for you and your skill in archi- 
 tecture, and other mathematics, I have little to say : In 
 that building of yours there might, for aught I know, have 
 been labour and method enough ; but, by woful experience 
 for us both, it is plain, the materials are naught, and I hope 
 you will henceforth take warning, and consider duration and 
 matter, as well as method and art. You boast, indeed, of 
 being obliged to no other creature, but of drawing and 
 spinning out all from yourself; that is to say, if we may 
 judge of the liquor in the vessel by what issues out, you 
 possess a good plentiful store of dirt and poison in your 
 breast ; and, though I would by no means lessen or disparage 
 your genuine stock of either, yet, I doubt you are somewhat 
 obliged, for an increase of both, to a little foreign assistance. 
 Your inherent portion of dirt does not fail of acquisitions, 
 by sweepings exhaled from below ; and one insect furnishes 
 you with a share of poison to destroy another. So that, in 
 short, the question comes all to this — Whether is the nobler 
 being of the two, that which, by a lazy contemplation of four 
 inches round, by an overweening pride, feeding and engen- 
 dering on itself, turns all into excrement and venom, pro- 
 ducing nothing at all, but flybane and a cobweb ; or that 
 which, by a universal range, with long search, much study, 
 true judgment, and distinction of things, brings home honey 
 and wax." 
 
 This dispute was managed with such eagerness, clamour, 
 and warmth, that the two parties of books, in arms below, 
 stood silent a while, waiting in suspense what would be the 
 issue, which was not long undetermined : For the bee, • 
 grown impatient at so much loss of time, fled straight away to 
 a bed of roses, without looking for a reply, and left the spider, 
 like an orator, collected in himself, and just prepared to 
 
 burst out. 
 
 It happened upon this emergency, that JEsop broke silence
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 171 
 
 first. He had been of late most barbarously treated by a 
 strange effect of the regent's humanity, who l had tore off his 
 title-page, sorely defaced one half of his leaves, and chained 
 him fast among a shelf of Moderns. Where, soon dis- 
 covering how high the quarrel was likely to proceed, he 
 tried all his arts, and turned himself to a thousand forms. 
 At length, in the borrowed shape of an ass, the regent mis- 
 took him for a Modern ; by which means he had time and 
 opportunity to escape to the Ancients, just when the spider 
 and the bee were entering into their contest, to which he 
 gave his attention with a world of pleasure ; and when it was 
 ended, swore in the loudest key, that in all his life he had 
 never known two cases so parallel and adapt to each other, 
 as that in the window, and this upon the shelves. "The 
 disputants," said he, "have admirably managed the dispute 
 between them, have taken in the full strength of all that is to 
 be said on both sides, and exhausted the substance of every 
 argument pro and con. It is but to adjust the reasonings of 
 both to the present quarrel, then to compare and apply the 
 labours and fruits of each, as the bee has learnedly deduced 
 them, and we shall find the conclusion fall plain and close 
 upon the Moderns and us. For, pray, gentlemen, was ever 
 anything so modern as the spider in his air, his turns, and his 
 paradoxes? He argues in the behalf of you his brethren 
 and himself, with many boastings of his native stock and 
 great genius ; that he spins and spits wholly from himself, 
 and scorns to own any obligation or assistance from without. 
 Then he displays to you his great skill in architecture, and 
 improvement in the mathematics. To all this the bee, as ar. 
 advocate, retained by us the Ancients, thinks fit to answer — 
 that, if one may judge of the great genius or inventions of 
 the Moderns by what they have produced, you will hardly 
 have countenance to bear you out, in boasting of either. 
 Erect your schemes with as much method and skill as you 
 please ; yet if the materials be nothing but dirt, spun out of 
 your own entrails (the guts of modern brains) the edifice will 
 conclude at last in a cobweb, the duration of which, like that 
 of other spiders' webs, may be imputed to their being for- 
 
 1 Bentley, who denied the antiquity of iEsop, and the authenticity of 
 the fables ascribed to him, which he supposed to have been composed 
 by Maximus Planudes. [S.]
 
 1/2 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 gotten, or neglected, or hid in a corner. For anything else 
 of genuine that the Moderns may pretend to, I cannot 
 recollect ; unless it be a large vein of wrangling and satire, 
 much of a nature and substance with the spider's poison ; 
 which, however they pretend to spit wholly out of themselves, 
 is improved by the same arts, by feeding upon the insects 
 and vermin of the age. As for us the Ancients, we are 
 content, with the bee, to pretend to nothing of our own, 
 beyond our wings and our voice, that is to say, our flights 
 and our language. For the rest, whatever we have got, has 
 been by infinite labour and search, and ranging through every 
 corner of nature ; the difference is, that, instead of dirt and 
 poison, we have rather chosen to fill our hives with honey 
 and wax, thus furnishing mankind with the two noblest of 
 things, which are sweetness and light." 
 
 'Tis wonderful to conceive the tumult arisen among the 
 books, upon the close of this long descant of ^Esop ; both 
 parties took the hint, and heightened their animosities so on 
 a sudden, that they resolved it should come to a battle. Im- 
 mediately the two main bodies withdrew, under their several 
 ensigns, to the farthest parts of the library, and there entered 
 into cabals and consults upon the present emergency. The 
 Moderns were in very warm debates upon the choice of their 
 leaders ; and nothing less than the fear impending from the 
 enemies, could have kept them from mutinies upon this 
 occasion. The difference was greatest among the horse, 
 where every private trooper pretended to the chief command, 
 from Tasso and Milton, to Dryden and Withers. The light- 
 horse 1 were commanded by Cowley and Despreaux.' There 
 came the bowmen 3 under their valiant leaders, Des Cartes, 
 Gassendi, and Hobbes ; whose strength was such, that they 
 could shoot their arrows beyond the atmosphere, never to 
 fall down again, but turn, like that of Evander, into meteors ; 
 or, like the cannon-ball, into stars. Paracelsus brought a 
 squadron of stink-pot-flingers from the snowy mountains of 
 Rhaetia. There came a vast body of dragoons, of different 
 
 1 The epic poets were presented as full-armed horsemen ; the lyrical 
 bards as light horse. [S.] 
 
 2 More commonly known by the name of Boileau. [H.] See also 
 p. 192. [W. S. J.] 
 
 3 The philosophers, whether physical or metaphysical, are thus 
 classed. [S.] 

 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 1 73 
 
 nations, under the leading of Harvey, 1 their great aga : part 
 armed with scythes, the weapons of death ; part with lances 
 and long knives, all steeped in poison ; part shot bullets of a 
 most malignant nature, and used white powder, which infal- 
 libly killed without report. There came several bodies of 
 heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries, under the ensigns of 
 Guicciardini, Davila, Polydore Virgil, Buchanan, Mariana, 
 Cambden, 2 and others. The engineers were commanded by 
 Regiomontanus and Wilkins. 3 The rest were a confused 
 multitude, led by Scotus, Aquinas, and Bellarmine; 4 of 
 mighty bulk and stature, but without either arms, courage, 
 or discipline. In the last place, came infinite swarms of 
 calones, a disorderly rout led by L'Estrange ; rogues and 
 ragamuffins, that follow the camp for nothing but the 
 plunder, all without coats 5 to cover them. 
 
 The army of the Ancients was much fewer in number ; 
 Homer led the horse, and Pindar the light-horse ; Euclid was 
 
 1 The discoverer of the circulation of the blood. In his "Essay upon 
 Ancient and Modern Learning" Sir William Temple considered the 
 discovery of the circulation of the blood to have made no change in 
 " the practice of physic " and to " have been of little use to the world." 
 He couples this discovery with that of Copernicus, and is inclined to 
 the belief that both are " derived from old fountains." [T. S.] 
 
 2 Francesco Guicciardini (1482-1540) wrote the famous " History 
 of Italy." Davila (1576- 1623) wrote the " History of the Civil War in 
 France." Mariana (1537-1624), a Spanish historian, who also published 
 a treatise "De rege et regis institutione," in which he endeavoured to 
 defend the assassination of Henry III. Cambden = Camden, the 
 antiquarian. Polydore Vergil, born at Urbino, resided in England, as 
 the Pope's collector of Peter's pence, for fifty years. He was Arch- 
 deacon of Wells, 1508-54. His edition of Gildas was published in 
 1525; but he is better known for his History of England in Latin, 
 first issued at Basle in 1534. He died at Urbino in 1555. George 
 Buchanan (1506- 1582) wrote a " History of Scotland," which appeared 
 in the same year in which he died. He is also well known for his elegant 
 Latin poems. [T. S.] 
 
 3 Regiomontanus (1436-1476), a celebrated German astronomer. His 
 real name was Johann Miiller. He also established a printing office in 
 Nuremberg. John Wilkins, D.D., afterwards Bishop of Chester (1614- 
 1672), author of "The Discovery of a New World, or a Discourse on 
 the World in the Moon." He also wrote " Mathematical Magic " and 
 other contributions to the Transactions of the Royal Society. [T. S.] 
 
 * There is nothing in Bellarmine's (1 542-1 621) works to connect him 
 with Scotus and Aquinas, as Swift does here ; unless it be that he was 
 a staunch defender of the Roman Catholic Church. [T. S.] 
 
 5 These are pamphlets, which are not bound or covered.
 
 1/4 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 chief engineer; Plato and Aristotle commanded the bowmen; 
 Herodotus and Livy the foot; Hippocrates the dragoons. 
 The allies, led by Vossius ' and Temple, brought up the rear. 
 
 All things violently tending to a decisive battle, Fame, 
 who much frequented, and had a large apartment formerly 
 assigned her in the regal library, fled up straight to Jupiter, 
 to whom she delivered a faithful account of all that had 
 passed between the two parties below ; (for, among the gods, 
 she always tells truth). Jove, in great concern, convokes a 
 council in the Milky Way. The senate assembled, he 
 declares the occasion of convening them ; a bloody battle 
 just impendent between two mighty armies of Ancient and 
 Modern creatures, called books, wherein the celestial interest 
 was but too deeply concerned. Momus, 2 the patron of the 
 Moderns, made an excellent speech in their favour, which 
 was answered by Pallas, the protectress of the Ancients. 
 The assembly was divided in their affections ; when Jupiter 
 commanded the book of fate to be laid before him. Im- 
 mediately were brought by Mercury three large volumes in 
 folio, containing memoirs of all things past, present, and to 
 come. The clasps were of silver double gilt ; the covers of 
 celestial turkey leather ; and the paper such as here on earth 
 might pass almost for vellum. Jupiter, having silently read 
 the decree, would communicate the import to none, but pre- 
 sently shut up the book. 
 
 Without the doors of this assembly, there attended a vast 
 number of light, nimble gods, menial servants to Jupiter : 
 these are his ministering instruments in all affairs below. 
 They travel in a caravan, more or less together, and are 
 fastened to each other, like a link of galley-slaves, by a light 
 chain, which passes from them to Jupiter's great toe; and 
 yet, in receiving or delivering a message, they may never 
 approach above the lowest step of his throne, where he and 
 they whisper to each other, through a large hollow trunk. 
 
 1 John Gerard Vossius (1577-1649), head of the Leyden divinity 
 college, fell under censure for his " History of Pelagianism," and re- 
 tracted. The same work, however, procured for him the Oxford LL. D. 
 and a Canterbury prebend. He was a profound classical scholar. 
 [T. S.] 
 
 2 Momus is named as the presiding deity of the moderns, probably od 
 account vl the superiority claimed for them in works of humour. [S.]
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 175 
 
 These deities are called by mortal men accidents or events ; 
 but the gods call them second causes. Jupiter having de- 
 livered his message to a certain number of these divinities, 
 they flew immediately down to the pinnacle of the regal 
 library, and, consulting a few minutes, entered unseen, and 
 disposed the parties according to their orders. 
 
 Meanwhile, Momus, fearing the worst, and calling to mind 
 an ancient prophecy, which bore no very good face to his 
 children the Moderns, bent his flight to the region of a 
 malignant deity, called Criticism. She dwelt on the top of 
 a snowy mountain in Nova Zembla; there Momus found 
 her extended in her den, upon the spoils of numberless 
 volumes, half devoured. At her right hand sat Ignorance, 
 her father and husband, blind with age ; at her left, Pride, 
 her mother, dressing her up in the scraps of paper herself 
 had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light of foot, hood- 
 winked, and headstrong, yet giddy, and perpetually turning. 
 About her played her children, Noise and Impudence, Dul- 
 ness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and Ill-manners. 
 The goddess herself had claws like a cat ; her head, and ears, 
 and voice, resembled those of an ass ; her teeth fallen out 
 before, her eyes turned inward, as if she looked only upon 
 herself ; her diet was the overflowing of her own gall ; her 
 spleen was so large, as to stand prominent, like a dug of the 
 first rate ; nor wanted excrescencies in form of teats, at which 
 a crew of ugly monsters were greedily sucking ; and, what is 
 wonderful to conceive, the bulk of spleen increased faster 
 than the sucking could diminish it. " Goddess," said Momus, 
 "can you sit idly here while our devout worshippers, the 
 Moderns, are this minute entering into a cruel battle, and 
 perhaps now lying under the swords of their enemies ? Who 
 then hereafter will ever sacrifice, or build altars, to our divi- 
 nities ? Haste, therefore, to the British Isle, and, if possible, 
 prevent their destruction ; while I make factions among the 
 gods, and gain them over to our party." 
 
 Momus, having thus delivered himself, staid not for an 
 answer, but left the goddess to her own resentment. Up 
 she rose in a rage, and, as it is the form upon such occasions, 
 began a soliloquy: "Tis I," (said she,) "who give wisdom 
 to infants and idiots ; by me, children grow wiser than their 
 parents ; by me, beaux become politicians, and school-boys
 
 176 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 judges of philosophy ; by me, sophisters debate, and con- 
 clude upon the depths of knowledge ; and coffeehouse wits, 
 instinct by me, can correct an author's style, and display his 
 minutest errors, without understanding a syllable of his 
 matter, or his language. By me, striplings spend their judg- 
 ment, as they do their estate, before it comes into their 
 hands. Tis I who have deposed wit and knowledge from 
 their empire over poetry, and advanced myself in their stead. 
 And shall a few upstart Ancients dare oppose me? — But 
 come, my aged parent, and you, my children dear, and thou, 
 my beauteous sister ; let us ascend my chariot, and haste to 
 assist our devout Moderns, who are now sacrificing to us a 
 hecatomb, as I perceive by that grateful smell, which from 
 thence reaches my nostrils." 
 
 The goddess and her train having mounted the chariot, 
 which was drawn by tame geese, flew over infinite regions, 
 shedding her influence in due places, till at length she 
 arrived at her beloved island of Britain ; but, in hovering 
 over its metropolis, what blessings did she not let fall upon 
 her seminaries of Gresham and Covent-Garden ! And now 
 she reached the fatal plain of St. James's Library, at what 
 time the two armies were upon the point to engage ; where, 
 entering with all her caravan unseen, and landing upon a 
 case of shelves, now desert, but once inhabited by a colony 
 of virtuosoes, she staid a while to observe the posture of 
 both armies. 
 
 But here the tender cares of a mother began to fill her 
 thoughts, and move in her breast. For, at the head of a 
 troop of Modern Bowmen, she cast her eyes upon her son 
 Wotton • to whom the fates had assigned a very short thread. 
 Wotton, a young hero, whom an unknown father of mortal 
 race begot by stolen embraces with this goddess. He was 
 the darling of his mother above all her children, and she re- 
 solved to go and comfort him. But first, according to the 
 good old custom of deities, she cast about to change her 
 shape, for fear the divinity of her countenance might dazzle 
 his mortal sight, and overcharge the rest of his senses. She 
 therefore gathered up her person into an octavo compass ; 
 her body grew white and arid, and split in pieces with dry- 
 ness ; the thick turned into pasteboard, and the thin into 
 paper ; upon which her parents and children artfully strewed
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 1 77 
 
 a black juice, or decoction of gall and soot, in form of letters ; 
 her head, and voice, and spleen, kept their primitive form, 
 and that which before was a cover of skin, did still continue 
 so. In which guise she marched on towards the Moderns, 
 undistinguishable in shape and dress from the divine Bentley, 
 Wotton's dearest friend. " Brave Wotton," said the goddess, 
 " why do our troops stand idle here, to spend their present 
 vigour, and opportunity of this day ? Away, let us haste to 
 the generals, and advise to give the onset immediately." 
 Having spoke thus, she took the ugliest of her monsters, 
 full glutted from her spleen, and flung it invisibly into his 
 mouth, which, flying straight up into his head, squeezed out 
 his eye-balls, gave him a distorted look, and half overturned 
 his brain. Then she privately ordered two of her beloved 
 children, Dulness and Ill-Manners, closely to attend his person 
 in all encounters. Having thus accoutred him, she vanished 
 in a mist, and the hero perceived it was the goddess his mother. 
 The destined hour of fate being now arrived, the fight 
 began ; whereof, before I dare adventure to make a particular 
 description, I must, after the example of other authors, peti- 
 tion for a hundred tongues, and mouths, and hands, and pens, 
 which would all be too little to perform so immense a work. 
 Say, goddess, that presidest over History, who it was that 
 first advanced in the field of battle ! Paracelsus, at the head 
 of his dragoons, observing Galen in the adverse wing, darted 
 his javelin with a mighty force, which the brave Ancient 
 
 received upon his shield, the point breaking in the second 
 fold. ###*## * 
 
 ****** Hie pauca 
 
 ****** desunt. 
 
 ^F *H* "ff W -Jr * tt W 
 
 They bore the wounded aga 1 on their shields to his chariot 
 
 # # 
 
 # # 
 
 # # 
 
 Then Aristotle, observing Bacon advance with a forious 
 mien, drew his bow to the head, and let fly his arrow, which 
 missed the valiant Modern, and went whizzing over his head. 
 
 1 Dr. Harvey. [H.] 
 I. N 
 
 Desunt * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 nonmdla. 
 
 # 
 
 • 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 #
 
 Ingens hiatus 
 hie in MS. 
 
 178 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 But Des Cartes it hit; the steel point quickly found a defect 
 in his head-piece; it pierced the leather and the pasteboard, 
 and went in at his right eye. The torture of the pain whirled 
 the valiant bowman round, till death, like a star of superior 
 influence, drew him into his own vortex. 1 
 
 * * * when Homer appeared at the head of 
 
 the cavalry, mounted on a furious horse, with difficulty 
 managed by the rider himself, but which no other mortal 
 durst approach : he rode among the enemy's ranks, and bore 
 down all before him. Say, goddess, whom he slew first, and 
 whom he slew last! First, Gondibert 2 advanced against 
 him, clad in heavy armour, and mounted on a staid, sober 
 gelding, not so famed for his speed as his docility in kneeling, 
 whenever his rider would mount or alight. He had made a 
 vow to Pallas, that he would never leave the field till he had 
 spoiled Homer 3 of his armour: Madman, who had never 
 once seen the wearer, nor understood his strength! Him 
 Homer overthrew, horse and man, to the ground, there to be 
 trampled and choked in the dirt. Then, with a long spear, 
 he slew Denham, 4 a stout Modern, who from his father's side 
 derived his lineage from Apollo, but his mother was of 
 mortal race. He fell, and bit the earth. The celestial part 
 Apollo took, and made it a star; but the terrestrial lay 
 wallowing upon the ground. Then Homer slew Wesley, 5 
 with a kick of his horse's heel ; he took Perrault by mighty 
 
 1 Referring to Descartes' Theory of Vortices. [T. S.] 
 
 2 A heroic poem by Sir William Davenant, in rhymed quatrains. 
 It was published in 1650, and although wearisome reading to a reader 
 of the present day, was considered at the time an excellent perform- 
 ance. [T. S.] 
 
 3 Vid. Homer. 
 
 4 Sir John Denham's poems are very unequal, extremely good and 
 very indifferent ; so that his detractors said he was not the real author 
 of "Cooper's Hill." [Denham was born at Dublin 1615, and died in 
 1668. He was buried in Westminster Abbey. His best work is his 
 "Cooper's Hill." T. S.] 
 
 5 This is Samuel Wesley (1662-1735), the father of John and Charles 
 Wesley. He wrote the Life of Christ, in verse, and other poems. [T. S. ]
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 179 
 
 force out of his saddle, then hurled him at Fontenelle, with 
 the same blow dashing out both their brains. 
 
 On the left wing of the horse, Virgil appeared, in shining 
 armour, completely fitted to his body : He was mounted on 
 a dapple-gray steed, the slowness of whose pace was an effect 
 of the highest mettle and vigour. He cast his eye on the 
 adverse wing, with a desire to find an object worthy of his 
 valour, when, behold, upon a sorrel gelding of a monstrous 
 size, appeared a foe, issuing from among the thickest of the 
 enemy's squadrons ; but his speed was less than his noise ; 
 for his horse, old and lean, spent the dregs of his strength in 
 a high trot, which, though it made slow advances, yet caused 
 a loud clashing of his armour, terrible to hear. The two 
 cavaliers had now approached within the throw of a lance, 
 when the stranger desired a parley, and, lifting up the vizard of 
 his helmet, a face hardly appeared from within, which, after 
 a pause, was known for that of the renowned Dryden. The 
 brave Ancient suddenly started, as one possessed with sur- 
 prise and disappointment together ; for the helmet was nine 
 times too large for the head, which appeared situate far in 
 the hinder part, even like the lady in a lobster, or like a 
 mouse under a canopy of state, or like a shrivelled beau, 
 from within the penthouse of a modern periwig ; and the voice 
 was suited to the visage, sounding weak and remote. Dryden, 
 in a long harangue, soothed up the good Ancient ; called him 
 father, and, by a large deduction of genealogies, made it 
 plainly appear that they were nearly related. 1 Then he 
 humbly proposed an exchange of armour, as a lasting mark 
 of hospitality between them. Virgil consented, (for the 
 goddess Diffidence came unseen, and cast a mist before his 
 eyes,) though his was of gold, 2 and cost a hundred beeves, 
 the other's but of rusty iron. However, this glittering armour 
 became the Modern yet worse than his own. Then they 
 agreed to exchange horses \ but, when it came to the trial, 
 
 Dryden was afraid, and utterly unable to mount. * * 
 
 #'# # # # # # # 
 
 • 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 Alter hiatus 
 
 • 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 in MS. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 * # 
 
 1 Alluding to the Preliminary Dissertations in Dryden's Virgil. [S.] 
 * Vid. Homer.
 
 180 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 Lucan appeared upon a fiery horse ot admirable shape, but 
 headstrong, bearing the rider where he list over the field ; 
 he made a mighty slaughter among the enemy's horse; 
 which destruction to stop, Blackmore, 1 a famous Modern, (but 
 one of the mercenaries,) strenuously opposed himself, and 
 darted his javelin with a strong hand, which, falling short of 
 its mark, struck deep in the earth. Then Lucan threw a 
 lance; but ^Esculapius came unseen, and turned off the 
 point. " Brave Modern," said Lucan, " I perceive some 
 god protects you, 2 for never did my arm so deceive me before ; 
 but what mortal can contend with a god ? Therefore, let us 
 fight no longer, but present gifts to each other." Lucan then 
 bestowed the Modern a pair of spurs, and Blackmore gave 
 Lucan a bridle. ****** 
 ######## 
 
 Pauca de- 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 • 
 
 • 
 
 # 
 
 • 
 
 sunt. 
 
 • 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
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 Creech 3 — but the goddess Dulness took a cloud, formed into 
 the shape of Horace, armed and mounted, and placed in a 
 flying posture before him. Glad was the cavalier to begin a 
 combat with a flying foe, and pursued the image, threatening 
 aloud, till at last it lead him to the peaceful bower of his father, 
 Ogleby, 4 by whom he was disarmed, and assigned to his repose. 
 Then Pindar slew — , and — , Oldham, 5 and — , and Afra 
 
 1 Sir Richard Blackmore, M.D. (c. 1 650- 1 729), was a most volu- 
 minous writer. His " Prince Arthur " is a big folio, as is also his 
 " Paraphrase on the Book of Job." Perhaps his best work is "Creation, 
 a Poem." He wrote also on medical subjects ; but, indeed, a list of 
 his writings would make a rather lengthy note. [T. S.] 
 
 2 His skill as a physician atoned for his dulness as a poet. [H.] 
 
 3 Thomas Creech (born in 1659) translated Horace in 1684. He 
 hanged himself at Oxford in 1700. [T. S.] 
 
 4 John Ogilby or Ogleby was born in 1600, at Edinburgh. Starting 
 as a teacher of dancing, he went over to Ireland and became deputy 
 master of the revels. He built a theatre in Dublin, but lost all in the 
 rebellion. Settling at Cambridge he published a translation of Virgil. 
 At the age of fifty-four he began to learn Greek, and in 1660 issued a 
 translation of Homer's Iliad. The Odyssey appeared in 1665. He 
 again became master of the revels in Ireland, and again built a theatre. 
 Finally, he set up a printing-house and issued several sumptuous volumes. 
 He died in 1676. [T. S.] 
 
 6 John Oldham (born 1653, died 1683) wrote satires on the Jesuits. 
 His collected works were published in 3 vols. i2mo. in 1770. [T. S.]
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. l8l 
 
 the Amazon, 1 light of foot ; never advancing in a direct line, 
 ^ut wheeling with incredible agility and force, he made a 
 terrible slaughter among the enemy's light horse. Him when 
 Cowley 2 observed, his generous heart burnt within him, and 
 he advanced against the fierce Ancient, imitating his address, 
 his pace, and career, as well as the vigour of his horse and 
 his own skill would allow. When the two cavaliers had 
 approached within the length of three javelins, first Cowley 
 threw a lance, which missed Pindar, and, passing into the 
 enemy's ranks, fell ineffectual to the ground. Then Pindar 
 darted a javelin so large and weighty, that scarce a dozen 
 cavaliers, as cavaliers are in our degenerate days, could raise 
 it from the ground ; yet he threw it with ease, and it went, 
 by an unerring hand, singing through the air ; nor could the 
 Modern have avoided present death, if he had not luckily 
 opposed the shield, that had been given him by Venus. 3 
 And now both heroes drew their swords ; but the Modern 
 was so aghast and disordered, that he knew not where he 
 was ; his shield dropped from his hands ; thrice he fled, and 
 thrice he could not escape. At last he turned, and lifting 
 up his hand in the posture of a suppliant : " Godlike Pindar," 
 said he, "spare my life, and possess my horse with these 
 arms, beside the ransom which my friends will give when 
 they hear I am alive, and your prisoner." " Dog ! " said 
 Pindar, " let your ransom stay with your friends ; but your 
 carcass shall be left for the fowls of the air and the beasts of 
 the field." With that he raised his sword, and, with a 
 mighty stroke, cleft the wretched Modern in twain, the 
 sword pursuing the blow ; and one half lay panting on the 
 ground, to be trod in pieces by the horses' feet ; the other 
 half was borne by the frighted steed through the field. 
 This Venus 4 took, washed it seven times in ambrosia, then 
 struck it thrice with a sprig of amarant; upon which the 
 leather grew round and soft, and the leaves turned into 
 
 1 Mrs. Aphra Behn, novelist and dramatist (died 1689). [T. S.] 
 
 2 Abraham Cowley, poet, born 161 8, died at Chertsey 1667, author 
 of "Love's Riddle," "The Puritan and the Papist," &c. A strong 
 adherent of King Charles I., he was neglected at the Restoration. 
 [T. S.] 
 
 3 His poem called " The Mistress." [H.] 
 
 4 I do not approve the author's judgment in this, for I think Cowley' 
 " Pindarics " are much preferable to his " Mistress."
 
 1 82 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 feathers, and being gilded before, continued gilded still ; so 
 it became a dove, and she harnessed it to her chariot. * 
 
 Hiatus valde de- 
 ***** flendus in MS. 
 
 Day being far spent, and the numerous forces of the 
 Moderns half inclining to a retreat, there issued forth from a 
 squadron of their heavy-armed foot, a captain, The Episode 
 whose name was Bentley, the most deformed of of Bentley 
 all the Moderns ; tall, but without shape or and Wotton. 
 comeliness ; large, but without strength or proportion. His 
 armour was patched up of a thousand incoherent pieces, and 
 the sound of it, as he marched, was loud and dry, like that 
 made by the fall of a sheet of lead, which an Etesian wind 
 blows suddenly down from the roof of some steeple. His 
 helmet was of old rusty iron, but the vizard was brass, which, 
 tainted by his breath, corrupted into copperas, nor wanted 
 gall from the same fountain ; so that, whenever provoked 
 by anger or labour, an atramentous quality, of most ma- 
 lignant nature, was seen to distil from his lips. In his right 
 hand he grasped a flail, and (that he might never be un- 
 provided of an offensive weapon) a vessel full of ordure in his 
 left. 1 Thus completely armed, he advanced with a slow 
 and heavy pace where the Modern chiefs were holding a 
 consult upon the sum of things ; who, as he came onwards, 
 laughed to behold his crooked leg and hump shoulder, which 
 his boot and armour, vainly endeavouring to hide, were 
 forced to comply with and expose. The generals made use 
 of him for his talent of railing, which, kept within govern- 
 ment, proved frequently of great service to their cause, but, 
 at other times, did more mischief than good ; for, at the least 
 touch of offence, and often without any at all, he would, like 
 a wounded elephant, convert it against his leaders. Such, at 
 this juncture, was the disposition of Bentley ; grieved to see 
 the enemy prevail, and dissatisfied with everybody's conduct 
 but his own. He humbly gave the Modern generals to 
 understand, that he conceived, with great submission, that 
 they were all a pack of rogues, and fools, and sons of whores, 
 and d — d cowards, and confounded loggerheads, and illiterate 
 
 1 The person here spoken of is famous for letting fly at everybody 
 without distinction, and using mean and foul scurrilities.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 183 
 
 whelps, and nonsensical scoundrels ; that, if himself had 
 been constituted general, those presumptuous dogs, 1 the 
 Ancients, would, long before this, have been beaten out of 
 the field. " You," said he, " sit here idle ; but when I, or 
 any other valiant Modern, kill an enemy, you are sure to 
 seize the spoil. But I will not march one foot against the 
 foe till you all swear to me, that whomsoever I take or kill, 
 his arms I shall quietly possess." Bentley having spoken 
 thus, Scaliger, bestowing him a sour look : " Miscreant 
 prater ! " said he, " eloquent only in thine own eyes, thou 
 railest without wit, or truth, or discretion. The malignity of 
 thy temper perverteth nature; thy learning makes thee more 
 barbarous, thy study of humanity more inhuman ; thy con- 
 verse among poets, more grovelling, miry, and dull. All 
 arts of civilizing others render thee rude and untractable; 
 courts have taught thee ill manners, and polite conversation 
 has finished thee a pedant. Besides, a greater coward bur- 
 deneth not the army. But never despond ; I pass my word, 
 whatever spoil thou takest shall certainly be thy own, though, 
 I hope, that vile carcass will first become a prey to kites and 
 worms." 
 
 Bentley durst not reply, but, half choked with spleen and 
 rage, withdrew, in full resolution of performing some great 
 achievement. With him, for his aid and companion, he took 
 his beloved Wotton ; resolving, by policy or surprise, to 
 attempt some neglected quarter of the Ancients' army. They 
 began their march over carcasses of their slaughtered friends 5 
 then to the right of their own forces ; then wheeled north- 
 ward, till they came to Aldrovandus's tomb, 2 which they 
 passed on the side of the declining sun. And now they 
 arrived, with fear, toward the enemy's out-guards; looking 
 about, if haply they might spy the quarters of the wounded, 
 or some straggling sleepers, unarmed, and remote from the 
 rest. As when two mongrel curs, whom native greediness 
 and domestic want provoke and join in partnership, though 
 fearful, nightly to invade the folds of some rich grazier, they 
 
 1 Vid. Homer, de Thersite. 
 
 2 Ulysses Aldrovandi of Bologna (1522-1607) spent sixty years of his 
 life in researches for his work on natural history. Poor, blind, and 
 ruined in health, he died before his great labour was published. It was 
 issued in folios after his death, and Swift aptly refers to it as his tomb. 
 [T. S.]
 
 1 84 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 with tails depressed, and lolling tongues, creep soft and 
 slow; meanwhile, the conscious moon, now in her zenith, 
 on their guilty heads darts perpendicular rays ; nor dare they 
 bark, though much provoked at her refulgent visage, whether 
 seen in puddle by reflection, or in sphere direct ; but one 
 surveys the region round, while the other scouts the plain, 
 if haply to discover, at distance from the flock, some carcass 
 half devoured, the refuse of gorged wolves, or ominous 
 ravens. So marched this lovely, loving pair of friends, nor 
 with less fear and circumspection, when, at a distance, they 
 might perceive two shining suits of armour hanging upon an 
 oak, and the owners not far off, in a profound sleep. The two 
 friends drew lots, and the pursuing of this adventure fell to 
 Bentley ; on he went, and, in his van, Confusion and Amaze, 
 while Horror and Affright brought up the rear. As he came 
 near, behold two heroes of the Ancients' army, Phalaris and 
 ^Esop, lay fast asleep : Bentley would fain have dispatched 
 them both, and, stealing close, aimed his flail at Phalaris's 
 breast. 1 But then the goddess Affright interposing, caught 
 the Modern in her icy arms, and dragged him from the 
 danger she foresaw ; for both the dormant heroes happened 
 to turn at the same instant, though soundly sleeping, and 
 busy in a dream. For Phalaris 2 was just that minute dream- 
 ing how a most vile poetaster had lampooned him, and how 
 he had got him roaring in his bull. And y£sop dreamed, 
 that, as he and the Ancient chiefs were lying on the ground, 
 a wild ass broke loose, ran about, trampling and kicking, 
 and dunging in their faces. Bentley, leaving the two heroes 
 asleep, seized on both their armours, and withdrew in quest 
 of his darling Wotton. 
 
 He, in the meantime, had wandered long in search of 
 some enterprize, till at length he arrived at a small rivulet, 
 that issued from a fountain hard by, called, n the language of 
 mortal men, Helicon. Here he stopped, and, parched with 
 
 1 Bentley united the question concerning Phalaris with the debate 
 about ancient and modern learning, in a Proemium, as he called it, 
 addressed to Wotton, and levelled against Sir William Temple, being 
 the telum imbelle which he is presently represented in the text as 
 launching against that ally of the ancient cause. [S.] 
 
 2 This is according to Homer, who tells the dreams of those who 
 were killed in their sleep.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 1 85 
 
 thirst, resolved to allay it in this limpid stream. Thrice 
 with profane hands he essayed to raise the water to his lips, 
 and thrice it slipped all through his fingers. Then he 
 stooped prone on his breast, but, ere his mouth had kissed 
 the liquid crystal, Apollo came, and in the channel held 
 his shield betwixt the Modern and the fountain, so that he 
 drew up nothing but mud. For, although no fountain on 
 earth can compare with the clearness of Helicon, yet there 
 lies at bottom a thick sediment of slime and mud; for so 
 Apollo begged of Jupiter, as a punishment to those who 
 durst attempt to taste it with unhallowed lips, and for a 
 lesson to all not to draw too deep or far from the spring. 
 
 At the fountain-head, Wotton discerned two heroes ; the 
 one he could not distinguish, but the other was soon known 
 for Temple, general of the allies to the Ancients. His back 
 was turned, and he was employed in drinking large draughts 
 in his helmet from the fountain, where he had withdrawn 
 himself to rest from the toils of the war. Wotton observing 
 him, with quaking knees, and trembling hands, spoke thus 
 to himself: " O that I could kill this destroyer of our army, 
 what renown should I purchase among the chiefs ! But to 
 issue out against him, man against' man, shield against 
 shield, and lance against lance, 1 what Modern of us dare? 
 For he fights like a god, and Pallas, or Apollo, are ever at 
 his elbow. But, O mother ! if what Fame reports be true, 
 that I am the son of so great a goddess, grant me to hit 
 Temple with this lance, that the stroke may send him to 
 hell, and that I may return in safety and triumph, laden with 
 his spoils." The first part of this prayer, the gods granted 
 at the intercession of his mother and of Momus ; but the 
 rest, by a perverse wind sent from Fate was scattered in the 
 air. Then Wotton grasped his lance, and, brandishing it 
 thrice over his head, darted it with all his might, the goddess, 
 his mother, at the same time, adding strength to his arm. 
 Away the lance went hizzing, and reached even to the belt 
 of the averted Ancient, upon which lightly grazing, it fell to 
 the ground. Temple neither felt the weapon touch upon 
 him, nor heard it fall ; and Wotton might have escaped to 
 his army, with the honour of having remitted his lance 
 
 ' Vid. Homer.
 
 1 86 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 
 
 against so great a leader, unrevenged. But Apollo, enraged 
 that a javelin, flung by the assistance of so foul a goddess, 
 
 should pollute his fountain, put on the shape of , 
 
 and softly came to young Boyle, who then accompanied 
 Temple : He pointed first to the lance, then to the distant 
 Modern that flung it, and commanded the young hero to 
 take immediate revenge. 1 Boyle, clad in a suit of armour, 
 which had been given him by all the gods, 2 immediately ad- 
 vanced against the trembling foe, who now fled before him. 
 As a young lion in the Libyan plains, or Araby desert, sent 
 by his aged sire to hunt for prey, or health, or exercise, he 
 scours along, wishing to meet some tiger from the mountains, 
 or a furious boar ; if chance, a wild ass, with brayings im- 
 portune, affronts his ear, the generous beast, though loathing 
 to distain his claws with blood so vile, yet, much provoked 
 at the offensive noise which Echo, foolish nymph, like her 
 ill-judging sex, repeats much louder, and with more delight 
 than Philomela's song, he vindicates the honour of the 
 forest, and hunts the noisy long-eared animal. So Wotton 
 fled, so Boyle pursued. But Wotton, heavy-armed, and 
 slow of foot, began to slack his course, when his lover, 
 Bentley, appeared, rettirning laden with the spoils of the two 
 sleeping Ancients. Boyle observed him well, and soon dis- 
 covering the helmet and shield of Phalaris, his friend, both 
 which he had lately with his own hands new polished and 
 gilded ; 3 Rage sparkled in his eyes, and, leaving his pursuit 
 after Wotton, he furiously rushed on against this new 
 approacher. Fain would he be revenged on both ; but both 
 now fled different ways ; and, as a woman * in a little house 
 that gets a painful livelihood by spinning ; ' if chance her 
 geese be scattered o'er the common, she courses round the 
 
 1 Boyle alleges in his preface, as his principal reason for entering into 
 the controversy about Phalaris, his respect for Sir William Temple, who 
 had been coarsely treated by Bentley. [S.] 
 
 - Boyle was assisted in this dispute by Dean Aldrich, Dr. Atterbury, 
 afterwards Bishop of Rochester, and other persons at Oxford, cele- 
 brated for their genius and their learning, then called the Christ-Church 
 wits. [H.] 
 
 3 This refers to Boyle's edition of the " Letters of Phalaris." [T. S.] 
 
 4 Vid. Homer. 
 
 5 This is also after the manner of Homer ; the woman's getting a 
 painful livelihood by spinning, has nothing to do with the similitude, 
 nor would be excusable without such an authority.
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 1 87 
 
 plain from side to side, compelling here and there the strag- 
 glers to the flock ; they cackle loud, and flutter o'er the cham- 
 paign. So Boyle pursued, so fled this pair of friends : 
 Finding at length their flight was vain, they bravely joined, 
 and drew themselves in phalanx. First Bentley threw a 
 spear with all his force, hoping to pierce the enemy's breast ; 
 but Pallas came unseen, and in the air took off the point, 
 and clapped on one of lead, which, after a dead bang against 
 the enemy's shield, fell blunted to the ground. Then Boyle, 
 observing well his time, took up a lance of wondrous length 
 and sharpness ; and, as this pair of friends compacted, stood 
 close side to side, he wheeled him to the right, and, with 
 unusual force, darted the weapon. Bentley saw his fate 
 approach, and flanking down his arms close to his ribs, 
 hoping to save his body, in went the point, passing through 
 arm and side, nor stopped or spent its force, till it had also 
 pierced the valiant Wotton, who, going to sustain his dying 
 friend, shared his fate. 1 As when a skilful cook has trussed 
 a brace of woodcocks, he, with iron skewer, pierces the 
 tender sides of both, their legs and wings close pinioned to 
 the ribs ; so was this pair of friends transfixed, till down they 
 fell, joined in their lives, joined in their deaths, so closely 
 joined, that Charon would mistake them both for one, and 
 waft them over Styx for half his fare. Farewell, beloved 
 loving pair ! Few equals have you left behind : and happy 
 and immortal shall you be, if all my wit and eloquence can 
 
 make you. 
 
 # 
 
 And, now 
 
 * * 
 
 *■ 
 
 # 
 
 # 
 
 W w 
 
 # * 
 
 # 
 
 * 
 
 # 
 
 * * 
 
 # # 
 
 # 
 
 • 
 
 * 
 
 # # 
 
 Desunt ccztera. 
 
 
 
 
 1 Notwithstanding what is here stated, Wotton was treated with much 
 more delicacy by Boyle, than was his friend Bentley. [S.] See Boyle's 
 "Examination," p. 23. [T. S.] 
 
 FINIS.
 
 A 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 Concerning the 
 
 Mechanical Operation 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SPIRIT. 
 
 I N A 
 
 LETTER 
 
 To a F R I E ^ £>. 
 
 A 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed in the Year, MDCCX.
 
 THE BOOKSELLER'S ADVERTLSEMENT. 
 
 r i ^HE following Discourse came into my hands perfect and 
 ■i entire. But there being several things in it which the 
 prese?it age would not very well bear, I kept it by me some 
 years, resolving it should never see the light. At length, by the 
 advice and assistance of a judicious friend, I retrenched those 
 parts that might give most offence, and have now ventured to 
 publish the remainder ; Concerning the author I am wholly 
 ignorant, neither can I conjecture whether it be the same with 
 that of the two foregoing pieces, the original having been sent 
 me at a different time, and in a different hand. The learned 
 reader will better determine ; to whose judgment I entirely 
 submit it.
 
 A 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 CONCERNING THE 
 
 MECHANICAL OPERATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SPIRIT, &c. 
 
 For T. H. Esquire? at his Chambers in the Academy of the 
 Beaux Esprits in New Holland. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 IT is now a good while since I have had in my head some- 
 thing, not only very material, but absolutely necessary to 
 my health, that the world should be informed in. For, to 
 tell you a secret, I am able to contain it no longer. How- 
 ever, I have been perplexed, for some time, to resolve what 
 would be the most proper form to send it abroad in. To 
 which end I have been three days coursing through West- 
 minster-Hall, and St. Paul's Churchyard, and Fleet-street, to 
 peruse titles ; and I do not find any which holds so general a 
 vogue, as that of a Letter to a Friend : Nothing is more 
 common than to meet with long epistles, addressed to persons 
 and places, where, at first thinking, one would be apt to 
 imagine it not altogether so necessary or convenient ; such as, 
 a neighbour at next door, a mortal enemy, a perfect stranger, or 
 a person of quality in the clouds; and these upon subjects, in 
 
 1 Supposed to be Col. Hunter, for some time believed to be the 
 author of the Letter of Enthusiasm, mentioned in the Apology for the 
 Tale of a Tub. [H.] See note on p. 3. [W. S. J.] 
 
 This Discourse is not altogether equal to the two former, the best parts 
 of it being omitted ; whether the bookseller's account be true, that he 
 durst not print the rest, I know not ; nor indeed is it easy to determine, 
 whether he may be relied on in anything he says of this or the former 
 treatises, only as to the time they were writ in, which, however, 
 appears more from the discourses themselves than his relation.
 
 192 A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 appearance, the least proper for conveyance by the post; as 
 long schemes in philosophy ; dark and wonderful mysteries of 
 state; laborious dissertations in criticism and philosophy ; 
 advice to parliaments, and the like. 
 
 Now, sir, to proceed after the method in present wear. (For 
 let me say what I will to the contrary, I am afraid you will 
 publish this letter, as soon as ever it comes to your hands ;) I 
 desire you will be my witness to the world how careless and 
 sudden a scribble it has been ; that it was but yesterday when 
 you and I began accidentally to fall into discourse on this 
 matter : that I was not very well when we parted ; that the 
 post is in such haste, I have had no manner of time to digest 
 it into order, or correct the style ; and if any other modern 
 excuses for haste and negligence shall occur to you in reading, 
 I beg you to insert them, faithfully promising they shall be 
 thankfully acknowledged. 
 
 Pray, sir, in your next letter to the Iroquois Virtuosi, do me 
 the favour to present my humble service to that illustrious 
 body, and assure them I shall send an account of those phe- 
 nomena, as soon as we can determine them at Gresham. 
 
 I have not had a line from the Literati of Topinambou ' 
 these three last ordinaries. 
 
 And now, sir, having dispatched what I had to say of forms, 
 or of business, let me entreat you will suffer me to proceed 
 upon my subject ; and to pardon me, if I make no farther use 
 of the epistolary style till I come to conclude. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Tis recorded of Mahomet, that, upon a visit he was going 
 to pay in Paradise, he had an offer of several vehicles to con- 
 duct him upwards; as fiery chariots, winged horses, and 
 celestial sedans ; but he refused them all, and would be 
 borne to Heaven upon nothing but his ass. Now this incli- 
 nation of Mahomet, as singular as it seems, hath been since 
 taken up by a great number of devout Christians; and doubtless, 
 
 1 Perrault read a poem before the French Academy in 1687 praising 
 modern authors above the ancients ; Boileau retorted with two epigrams 
 comparing the Academicians to the wild inhabitants of Topinambou. 
 [W. S. J.]
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 193 
 
 with very good reason. For, since that Arabian is known to 
 have borrowed a moiety of his religious system from the 
 Christian faith ; it is but just he should pay reprisals to such 
 as would challenge them ; wherein the good people of 
 England, to do them all right, have not been backward. For, 
 though there is not any other nation in the world so plentifully 
 provided with carriages for that journey, either as to safety or 
 ease, yet there are abundance of us who will not be satisfied 
 with any other machine beside this of Mahomet. 
 
 For my own part, I must confess to bear a very singular 
 respect to this animal, by whom I take human nature to be 
 most admirably held forth in all its qualities, as well as 
 operations : And therefore, whatever in my small reading 
 occurs, concerning this our fellow-creature, I do never fail to 
 set it down by way of common-place ; and when I have 
 occasion to write upon human reason, politics, eloquence, or 
 knowledge ; I lay my memorandums before me, and insert 
 them with a wonderful facility of application. However, 
 among all the qualifications ascribed to this distinguished 
 brute, by ancient or modern authors ; I cannot remember this 
 talent of bearing his rider to Heaven, has been recorded for a 
 part of his character, except in the two examples mentioned 
 already ; therefore, I conceive the methods of this art to be 
 a point of useful knowledge in very few hands, and which 
 the learned world would gladly be better informed in. This 
 is what I have undertaken to perform in the following dis- 
 course. For, towards the operation already mentioned, many 
 peculiar properties are required both in the rider and the 
 ass ; which I shall endeavour to set in as clear a light as I 
 
 can. 
 
 But, because I am resolved, by all means, to avoid giving 
 offence to any party whatever, I will leave off discoursing so 
 closely to the letter as I have hitherto done, and go on for 
 the future by way of allegory, though in such a manner, that 
 the judicious reader may without much straining, make his 
 applications as often as he shall think fit. Therefore, if you 
 please, from henceforward, instead of the term ass, we shall 
 make use of gifted or enlightened teacher; and the word 
 rider we will exchange for that of fanatic auditory, or any 
 other denomination of the like import. Having settled this 
 weighty point ; the great subject of inquiry before us, is to 
 
 I. o
 
 194 A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 examine by what methods this teacher arrives at his gifts, or 
 spirit, or light ; and by what intercourse between him and 
 his assembly, it is cultivated and supported. 
 
 In all my writings I have had constant regard to this great 
 end, not to suit and apply them to particular occasions and 
 circumstances of time, of place, or of person, but to calculate 
 them for universal nature and mankind in general. And of 
 such catholic use I esteem this present disquisition ; for I do 
 not remember any other temper of body, or quality of mind, 
 wherein all nations and ages of the world have so unani- 
 mously agreed, as that of a fanatic strain, or tincture of 
 enthusiasm ; which, improved by certain persons or societies 
 of men, and by them practised upon the rest, has been able 
 to produce revolutions of the greatest figure in history ; as 
 will soon appear to those who know anything of Arabia, 
 Persia, India, or China, of Morocco and Peru : Farther, it 
 has possessed as great a power in the kingdom of knowledge, 
 where it is hard to assign one art or science which has not 
 annexed to it some fanatic branch : Such are, The Philosopher's 
 Stone, The Grand Elixir? The Planetary Worlds, The Squar- 
 ing of the Circle, The Summum Bo7ium, Utopian Common- 
 wealths ; with some others of less or subordinate note ; which 
 all serve for nothing else, but to employ or amuse this grain of 
 enthusiasm, dealt into every composition. 
 
 But if this plant has found a root, in the fields of empire 
 and of knowledge, it has fixed deeper, and spread yet farther, 
 upon holy ground. Wherein, though it hath passed under the 
 general name of enthusiasm, and perhaps arisen from the 
 same original, yet hath it produced certain branches of a very 
 different nature, however often mistaken for each other. The 
 word, in its universal acceptation, may be defined, a lifting-up 
 of the soul, or its faculties, above matter. This description 
 will hold good in general ; but I am only to understand it as 
 applied to religion ; wherein there are three general ways of 
 ejaculating the soul, or transporting it beyond the sphere of 
 matter. The first is the immediate act of God, and is called 
 prophecy or inspiration. The second is the immediate act of 
 the Devil, and is termed possession. The third is the product 
 of natural causes, the effect of strong imagination, spleen, 
 
 1 Some writers hold them for the same, others not.
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 195 
 
 violent anger, fear, grief, pain, and the like. These three 
 have been abundantly treated on by authors, and therefore 
 shall not employ my enquiry. But the fourth method of 
 religious enthusiasm, or launching out of the soul, as it is 
 purely an effect of artifice and mechanick operation, has been 
 sparingly handled, or not at all, by any writer; because, 
 though it is an art of great antiquity, yet, having been con- 
 fined to few persons, it long wanted those advancements and 
 refinements which it afterwards met with, since it has grown 
 so epidemick, and fallen into so many cultivating hands. 
 
 It is, therefore, upon this Mechanical Operation of the Spirit 
 that I mean to treat, as it is at present performed by our 
 British Workmen. I shall deliver to the reader the result of 
 many judicious observations upon the matter; tracing, as near 
 as I can, the whole course and method of this trade, produc- 
 ing parallel instances, and relating certain discoveries, that 
 have luckily fallen in my way, 
 
 I have said, that there is one branch of religious enthusiasm 
 which is purely an effect of Nature ; whereas the part I mean 
 to handle is wholly an effect of art, which, however, is in- 
 clined to work upon certain natures and constitutions more 
 than others. Besides, there is many an operation which, in 
 its original, was purely an artifice, but through a long suc- 
 cession of ages hath grown to be natural. Hippocrates tells 
 us, that among our ancestors, the Scythians, there was a 
 nation called Long-Heads, 1 which at first began, by a custom 
 among midwives and nurses, of moulding, and squeezing, and 
 bracing up the heads of infants ; by which means Nature, 
 shut out at one passage, was forced to seek another, and 
 finding room above, shot upwards in the form of a sugar-loaf ; 
 and, being diverted that way for some generations, at last 
 found it out of herself, needing no assistance from the nurse's 
 hand. This was the original of the Scythian Long-heads, 
 and thus did custom, from being a second nature, proceed to 
 be a first. To all which there is something very analogous 
 among us of this nation, who are the undoubted posterity of 
 that refined people. For, in the age of our fathers, there 
 arose a generation of men in this island, called Round-heads,* 
 whose race is now spread over three kingdoms, yet, in its 
 
 1 Macrocephali. 
 
 * The Puritans in the time of Charles I. [T. S.]
 
 196 A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 beginning, was merely an operation of art, produced by a 
 pair of scissors, a squeeze of the face, and a black cap. 
 These heads, thus formed into a perfect sphere in all assem- 
 blies, were most exposed to the view of the female sort, which 
 did influence their conceptions so effectually, that nature at 
 last took the hint and did it of herself ; so that a Round-Head 
 has been ever since as familiar a sight among us as a Long- 
 Head among the Scythians. 
 
 Upon these examples, and others easy to produce, I desire 
 the curious reader to distinguish, first, between an effect 
 grown from Art into Nature, and one that is natural from its 
 beginning ; secondly, between an effect wholly natural, and 
 one which has only a natural foundation, but where the 
 superstructure is entirely artificial. For the first and the 
 last of these, I understand to come within the districts of my 
 subject. And having obtained these allowances, they will 
 serve to remove any objections that may be raised hereafter 
 against what I shall advance. 
 
 The practitioners of this famous art proceed, in general, 
 upon the following fundamental : That the corruption of t/ie 
 senses is the generation of the spirit : Because the senses in 
 men are so many avenues to the fort of reason, which, in 
 this operation, is wholly blocked up. All endeavours must 
 be therefore used, either to divert, bind up, stupify, fluster, 
 and amuse the senses, or else to justle them out of their 
 stations ; and, while they are either absent, or otherwise em- 
 ployed, or engaged in a civil war against each other, the 
 spirit enters, and performs its part. 
 
 Now the usual methods of managing the senses upon 
 such conjunctures are, what I shall be very particular in 
 delivering, as far as it is lawful for me to do ; but having 
 had the honour to be initiated into the mysteries of every 
 society, I desire to be excused from divulging any rites, 
 wherein the profane must have no part. 
 
 But here, before I can proceed farther, a very dangerous 
 objection must, if possible, be removed : For, it is positively 
 denied by certain critics, that the spirit can, by any means, 
 be introduced into an assembly of modern saints, the 
 disparity being so great, in many material circumstances, 
 between the primitive way of inspiration and that which is 
 practised in the present age. This they pretend to prove
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 197 
 
 from the second chapter of the Acts, where, comparing both, 
 it appears, first, That the apostles were gathered together with 
 one accord, in one place ; by which is meant a universal agree- 
 ment in opinion and form of worship ; a harmony, (say they) 
 so far from being found between any two conventicles among 
 us, that it is in vain to expect it between any two heads in 
 the same. Secondly, the spirit instructed the apostles in 
 the gift of speaking several languages, a knowledge so remote 
 from our dealers in this art, that they neither understand 
 propriety of words or phrases in their own. Lastly, (say 
 these objectors) the modern artists do utterly exclude all 
 approaches of the spirit, and bar up its ancient way of 
 entering, by covering themselves so close and so industriously 
 a-top. For they will needs have it as a point clearly gained, 
 that the Cloven Tongues never sat upon the apostles' heads 
 while their hats were on. 
 
 Now, the force of these objections seems to consist in the 
 different acceptation of the word spirit : which, if it be under- 
 stood for a supernatural assistance, approaching from with- 
 out, the objectors have reason, and their assertions may be 
 allowed ; but the spirit we treat of here proceeding entirely 
 from within, the argument of these adversaries is wholly 
 eluded. And upon the same account, our modern artificers 
 find it an expedient of absolute necessity, to cover their 
 heads as close as they can, in order to prevent perspiration, 
 than which nothing is observed to be a greater spender of 
 Mechanick Light, as we may, perhaps, farther shew in a con- 
 venient place. 
 
 To proceed therefore upon the phenomenon of Spiritual 
 Mechanism, it is here to be noted, that in forming and work- 
 ing up the spirit, the assembly has a considerable share as 
 well as the preacher; the method of this arcanum is as 
 follows : — They violently strain their eyeballs inward, half- 
 closing the lids ; then, as they sit, they are in a perpetual 
 motion of see-saw, making long hums at proper periods, and 
 continuing the sound at equal height, choosing their time in 
 those intermissions, while the preacher is at ebb. Neither 
 is this practice, in any part of it, so singular or improbable 
 as not to be traced in distant regions from reading and 
 observation. For, first, the /auguis, 1 or enlightened saints 
 
 1 Beinier, Mem. de Mogol.
 
 198 A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 of India, see all their visions by help of an acquired straining 
 and pressure of the eyes. Secondly, the art of see-saw on a 
 beam, and swinging by session upon a cord, in order to 
 raise artificial ecstasies, hath been derived to us from our 
 Scythian J ancestors, where it is practised at this day among 
 the women. Lastly, the whole proceeding, as I have here 
 related it, is performed by the natives of Ireland, with a 
 considerable improvement ; and it is granted, that this noble 
 nation, hath of all others, admitted fewer corruptions, and de- 
 generated least from the purity of the old Tartars. Now, it 
 is usual for a knot of Irish men and women, to abstract 
 themselves from matter, bind up all their senses, grow vision- 
 ary and spiritual, by influence of a short pipe of tobacco, 
 handed round the company, each preserving the smoke in 
 his mouth till it comes again to his turn to take it in fresh : 
 at the same time there is a concert of a continued gentle 
 hum, repeated and renewed by instinct, as occasion requires, 
 and they move their bodies up and down, to a degree, that 
 sometimes their heads and points lie parallel to the horizon. 
 Meanwhile you may observe their eyes turned up, in the 
 posture of one who endeavours to keep himself awake ; by 
 which, and many other symptoms among them, it manifestly 
 appears that the reasoning faculties are all suspended and 
 superseded, that imagination hath usurped the seat, scattering 
 a thousand deliriums over the brain. Returning from this 
 digression, I shall describe the methods by which the spirit 
 approaches. The eyes being disposed according to art, at 
 first you can see nothing, but, after a short pause, a small 
 glimmering light begins to appear, and dance before you. 
 Then, by frequently moving your body up and down, you 
 perceive the vapours to ascend very fast, till you are perfectly 
 dosed and flustered, like one who drinks too much in a 
 morning. Meanwhile the preacher is also at work ; he 
 begins a loud hum, which pierces you quite through ; this is 
 immediately returned by the audience, and you find yourself 
 prompted to imitate them, by a mere spontaneous impulse, 
 without knowing what you do. The interstitia are duly 
 filled up by the preacher, to prevent too long a pause, under 
 which the spirit would soon faint and grow languid. 
 
 1 Guagnini Hist. Sarmat.
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 199 
 
 This is all I am allowed to discover about the progress of 
 the spirit, with relation to that part which is borne by the 
 assembly ; but in the methods of the preacher to which I 
 now proceed, I shall be more large and particular. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 You will read it very gravely remarked in the books of 
 those illustrious and right eloquent penmen, the modern 
 travellers; that the fundamental difference in point of religion, 
 between the wild Indians and us, lies in this ; that we worship 
 God, and they worship the devil. But there are certain 
 critics who will by no means admit of this distinction ; rather 
 believing, that all nations whatsoever adore the true God, 
 because they seem to intend their devotions to some in- 
 visible power of greatest goodness and ability to help them, 
 which, perhaps, will take in the brightest attributes ascribed 
 to the divinity. Others, again, inform us, that those idolators 
 adore two principles ; the principle of good, and that of evil ; 
 which, indeed, I am apt to look upon as the most universal 
 notion that mankind, by the mere light of nature, ever en- 
 tertained of things invisible. How this idea hath been 
 managed by the Indians and us, and with what advantage 
 to the understandings of either, may deserve well to be ex- 
 amined. To me the difference appears little more than this, 
 that they are put oftener upon their knees by their fears, and 
 we by our desires ; that the former set them a-praying, and 
 us a-cursing. What I applaud them for is, their discretion, 
 in limiting their devotions and their deities to their several 
 districts, nor ever suffering the liturgy of the white God to 
 cross, or to interfere with that of the black. Not so with us, 
 who pretending by the lines and measures of our reason, to 
 extend the dominion of one invisible power, and contract 
 that of the other, have discovered a gross ignorance in the 
 natures of good and evil, and most horribly confounded the 
 frontiers of both. After men have lifted up the throne of 
 their divinity to the caelum empyraum, adorned with all such 
 qualities and accomplishments as themselves seem most to
 
 200 A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 value and possess : after they have sunk their principle of 
 evil to the lowest centre, bound him with chains, loaded him 
 with curses, furnished him with viler dispositions than any 
 rake-hell of the town, accoutred him with tail, and horns, 
 and huge claws, and saucer eyes : I laugh aloud to see 
 these reasoners, at the same time, engaged in wise dispute 
 about certain walks and purlieus, whether they are in the 
 verge of God or the devil, seriously debating, whether such 
 and such influences come into men's minds from above, or 
 below, whether certain passions and affections are guided 
 by the evil spirit or the good : 
 
 Dum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinum 
 Discernunt avidi. — 
 
 Thus do men establish a fellowship of Christ with Belial, and 
 such is the analogy they make between Cloven Tongues and 
 Cloven Feet. Of the like nature is the disquisition before us : 
 It hath continued these hundred years an even debate, 
 whether the deportment and the cant of our English en- 
 thusiastic preachers were possession or inspiration, and a 
 world of argument has been drained on either side, perhaps 
 to little purpose. For, I think, it is in life as in tragedy, 
 where, it is held a conviction of great defect, both in order 
 and invention, to interpose the assistance of preternatural 
 power, without an absolute and last necessity. However, it 
 is a sketch of human vanity, for every individual to imagine 
 the whole universe is interested in his meanest concern. If 
 he hath got cleanly over a kennel, some angel unseen de- 
 scended on purpose to help him by the hand ; if he hath 
 knocked his head against a post, it was the devil, for his 
 sins, let loose from hell, on purpose to buffet him. Who, 
 that sees a little paltry mortal, droning, and dreaming, and 
 drivelling to a multitude, can think it agreeable to common 
 good sense, that either Heaven or Hell should be put to the 
 trouble of influence or inspection, upon what he is about ? 
 Therefore I am resolved immediately to weed this error out 
 of mankind, by making it clear, that this mystery of vending 
 spiritual gifts is nothing but a trade, acquired by as much 
 instruction, and mastered by equal practice and application, 
 as others are. This will best appear, by describing and de-
 
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 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 201 
 
 ducing the whole process of the operation, as variously as it 
 hath fallen under my knowledge or experience. 
 
 *Jr V tF -3F 
 
 ^F *^ •fF "jF 
 
 Here the whole scheme of 
 spiritual mechanism was de- 
 duced and explained, with 
 an appearance of great read- 
 ing and observation ; but it 
 was thought neither safe nor 
 convenient to print it. 
 
 tF tF -JF W 
 
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 Here it may not be amiss to add a few words upon the 
 laudable practice of wearing quilted caps ; which is not a 
 matter of mere custom, humour, or fashion, as some would 
 pretend, but an institution of great sagacity and use ; these, 
 when moistened with sweat, stop all perspiration, and by re- 
 verberating the heat, prevent the spirit from evaporating any 
 way, but at the mouth ; even as a skilful house- wife, that 
 covers her still with a wet clout, for the same reason, and 
 finds the same effect. For, it is the opinion of choice virtuosi, 
 that the brain is only a crowd of little animals, but with 
 teeth and claws extremely sharp, and therefore, cling together 
 in the contexture we behold, like the picture of Hobbes's 
 Leviathan, or like bees in perpendicular swarm upon a tree, 
 or like a carrion corrupted into vermin, still preserving the 
 shape and figure of the mother animal. That all invention 
 is formed by the morsure of two or more of these animals, 
 upon certain capillary nerves, which proceed from thence, 
 whereof three branches spread into the tongue, and two into 
 the right hand. They hold also, that these animals are of a 
 constitution extremely cold ; that their food is the air we 
 attract, their excrement phlegm ; and that what we vulgarly 
 call rheums, and colds, and distillations, is nothing else but 
 an epidemical looseness, to which that little commonwealth 
 is very subject, from the climate it lies under. Farther, that 
 nothing less than a violent heat can disentangle these 
 creatures from their hamated station of life, or give them 
 vigour and humour, to imprint the marks of their little teeth. 
 That if the morsure be hexagonal, it produces Poetry ; the
 
 202 A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 circular gives Eloquence ; if the bite hath been conical, the 
 person, whose nerve is so affected, shall be disposed to 
 write upon Politics ; and so of the rest. 
 
 I shall now discourse briefly, by what kind of practices the 
 voice is best governed, toward the composition and improve- 
 ment of the spirit ; for, without a competent skill in tuning 
 and toning each word, and syllable, and letter, to their due 
 cadence, the whole operation is incomplete, misses entirely of 
 its effect on the hearers, and puts the workman himself to 
 continual pains for new supplies, without success. For, it is 
 to be understood, that, in the language of the spirit, cant and 
 droning supply the place of sense and reason, in the language 
 of men : because, in spiritual harangues, the disposition of 
 the words according to the art of grammar hath not the least 
 use, but the skill and influence wholly lie in the choice and 
 cadence of the syllables ; even as a discreet composer, who, 
 in setting a song, changes the words and order so often, that 
 he is forced to make it nonsense before he can make it music. 
 For this reason, it hath been held by some, that the Art of 
 Canting is ever in greatest perfection, when managed by 
 ignorance; which is thought to be enigmatically meant by 
 Plutarch, when he tells us, that the best musical instruments 
 were made from the bones of an ass. And the profounder 
 critics upon that passage, are of opinion, the word, in its 
 genuine signification, means no other than a jaw-bone; 
 though some rather think it to have been the os sacrtim ; but 
 in so nice a case I shall not take upon me to decide : The 
 curious are at liberty to pick from it whatever they please. 
 
 The first ingredient toward the Art of Canting is, a com- 
 petent share of inward light ; that is to say, a large memory, 
 plentifully fraught with theological polysyllables, and mys- 
 terious texts from holy writ, applied and digested by those 
 methods and mechanical operations, already related : the 
 bearers of this light, resembling lanthorns compact of leaves 
 from old Geneva Bibles ; which invention, Sir Humphrey 
 Edwin, 1 during his mayoralty, of happy memory, highly ap- 
 proved and advanced ; affirming the Scripture to be now 
 fulfilled, where it says : Thy word is a lanthorn to my feet, 
 and a light to my paths. 
 
 1 A Presbyterian, who, ascending to the dignity of Lord Mayor of 
 London, went in his official character to a meeting-house. [S.]
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 203 
 
 Now, the Art of Canting consists in skilfully adapting the 
 voice to whatever words the spirit delivers, that each may 
 strike the ears of the audience with its most significant 
 cadence. The force, or energy of this eloquence, is not to be 
 found, as among ancient orators, in the disposition of words 
 to a sentence, or the turning of long periods ; but, agreeable 
 to the modern refinements in music, is taken up wholly in 
 dwelling and dilating upon syllables and letters. Thus, it is 
 frequent for a single vowel to draw sighs from a multitude ; 
 and for a whole assembly of saints to sob to the music of one 
 solitary liquid. But these are trifles ; when even sounds in- 
 articulate are observed to produce as forcible effects. A 
 master workman shall blow his nose so powerfully as to pierce 
 the hearts of his people, who are disposed to receive the 
 excrements of his brain with the same reverence as the issue 
 of it. Hawking, spitting, and belching, the defects of other 
 men's rhetoric, are the flowers, and figures, and ornaments of 
 his. For, the spirit being the same in all, it is of no import 
 through what vehicle it is conveyed. 
 
 It is a point of too much difficulty to draw the principles of 
 this famous art within the compass of certain adequate rules. 
 However, perhaps I may one day oblige the world with my 
 Critical Essay upon the Art of Canting; philosophically, 
 physically, and musically considered. 
 
 But, among all improvements of the spirit, wherein the 
 voice hath borne a part, there is none to be compared with 
 that of conveying the sound through the nose, which, under the 
 denomination of snuffling? hath passed with so great applause 
 in the world. The originals of this institution are very dark ; 
 but, having been initiated into the mystery of it, and leave 
 being given me to publish it to the world, I shall deliver as 
 direct a relation as I can. 
 
 This art, like many other famous inventions, owed its birth, 
 or at least improvement and perfection, to an effect of chance, 
 but was established upon solid reasons, and hath flourished 
 in this island ever since with great lustre. All agree that it 
 first appeared upon the decay and discouragement of bagpipes, 
 which having long suffered under the mortal hatred of the 
 
 1 The snuffling of men who have lost their noses by lewd courses, is 
 said to have given rise to that tone, which our dissenters did too much 
 affect.— W. Wotton.
 
 204 A DISCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 brethren, tottered for a time, and at last fell with monarchy. 
 The story is thus related. 
 
 As yet snuffling was not ; when the following adventure 
 happened to a Banbury saint. Upon a certain day, while 
 he was far engaged among the tabernacles of the wicked, he 
 felt the outward man put into odd commotions, and strangely 
 pricked forward by the inward ; an effect very usual among 
 the modern inspired. For, some think, that the spirit is apt 
 to feed on the flesh, like hungry wines upon raw beef. Others 
 rather believe there is a perpetual game at leap-frog between 
 both ; and, sometimes the flesh is uppermost, and sometimes 
 the spirit, adding, that the former, while it is in the state of 
 a rider, wears huge Rippon spurs, and when it comes to the 
 turn of being bearer, is wonderfully headstrong and hard- 
 mouthed. However it came about, the saint felt his vessel 
 full extended in every part (a very natural effect of strong in- 
 spiration ; ) and the place and time falling out so unluckily, 
 that he could not have the convenience of evacuating up- 
 wards, by repetition, prayer, or lecture, he was forced to ope 
 an inferior vent. In short, he wrestled with the flesh so long, 
 that he at length subdued it, coming off with honourable 
 wounds, all before. The surgeon had now cured the parts 
 primarily affected ; but the disease, driven from its post, flew 
 up into his head ; and, as a skilful general, valiantly attacked 
 in his trenches and beaten from the field, by flying marches 
 withdraws to the capital city, breaking down the bridges to 
 prevent pursuit ; so the disease, repelled from its first station, 
 fled before the Rod of Hermes to the upper region, there 
 fortifying itself; but, finding the foe making attacks at the 
 nose, broke down the bridge, and retired to the head-quarters. 
 Now, the naturalists observe, that there is in human noses an 
 idiosyncracy, by virtue of which, the more the passage is 
 obstructed, the more our speech delights to go through, as 
 the music of a flageolet is made by the stops. By this 
 method, the twang of the nose becomes perfectly to resemble 
 the snuffle of a bagpipe, and is found to be equally attractive 
 of British ears ; whereof the saint had sudden experience, by 
 practising his new faculty with wonderful success in the 
 operation of the spirit : For, in a short time, no doctrine 
 passed for sound and orthodox, unless it were delivered 
 through the nose. Straight, every pastor copied after this
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 205 
 
 original, and those who could not otherwise arrive to a per- 
 fection, spirited by a noble zeal, made use of the same experi- 
 ment to acquire it. So that, I think, it may be truly 
 affirmed, the saints own their empire to the snuffling of one 
 animal, as Darius did his to the neighing of another, and 
 both stratagems were performed by the same art ; for we read 
 how the Persian beast acquired his faculty by covering a mare 
 the day before. 1 
 
 I should now have done, if I were not convinced, that 
 whatever I have yet advanced upon this subject is liable to 
 great exception. For, allowing all I have said to be true, it 
 may still be justly objected, that there is, in the common- 
 wealth of artificial enthusiasm, some real foundation for art 
 to work upon in the temper and complexion of individuals, 
 which other mortals seem to want. Observe, but the gesture, 
 the motion, and the countenance, of some choice professors, 
 though in their most familiar actions, you will find them of a 
 different race from the rest of human creatures. Remark 
 your commonest pretender to a light within, how dark, and 
 dirty, and gloomy he is without ; as lanthorns, which, the 
 more light they bear in their bodies, cast out so much the 
 more soot, and smoke, and fuliginous matter to adhere to 
 the sides. Listen but to their ordinary talk, and look on the 
 mouth that delivers it ; you will imagine you are hearing some 
 ancient oracle, and your understanding will be equally in- 
 formed. Upon these, and the like reasons, certain objectors 
 pretend to put it beyond all doubt, that there must be a sort 
 of preternatural spirit possessing the heads of the modern 
 saints ; and some will have it to be the heat of zeal working 
 upon the dregs of ignorance, as other spirits are produced 
 from lees by the force of fire. Some again think, that, when 
 our earthly tabernacles are disordered and desolate, shaken 
 and out of repair ; the spirit delights to dwell within them, as 
 houses are said to be haunted, when they are forsaken and 
 gone to decay. , 
 
 To set this matter in as fair a light as possible ; I shall here 
 very briefly deduce the history of Fanaticism from the most 
 early ages to the present. And if we are able to fix upon 
 any one material or fundamental point, wherein the chief 
 
 1 Herodot.
 
 206 A DiSCOURSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 professors have universally agreed, I think we may reasonably 
 lay hold on that, and assign it for the great seed or principle 
 of the spirit. 
 
 The most early traces we meet with of fanatics in ancient 
 story are among the Egyptians, who instituted those rites, 
 known in Greece by the names of Orgia, Panegyres, and 
 Dionysia, whether introduced there by Orpheus or Melampus 
 we shall not dispute at present, nor in all likelihood at any 
 time for the future. 1 These feasts were celebrated to the 
 honour of Osiris, whom the Grecians called Dionysius, and 
 is the same with Bacchus ; which has betrayed some super- 
 ficial readers to imagine, that the whole business was 
 nothing more than a set of roaring, scouring companions, 
 overcharged with wine ; but this is a scandalous mistake 
 foisted on the world by a sort of modern authors, who have 
 too literal an understanding ; and, because antiquity is to be 
 traced backwards, do therefore, like Jews, begin their books 
 at the wrong end, as if learning were a sort of conjuring. 
 These are the men who pretend to understand a book by 
 scouring through the index, as if a traveller should go about 
 to describe a palace, when he had seen nothing but the 
 privy; or like certain fortune-tellers in Northern America, who 
 have a way of reading a man's destiny by peeping into his 
 breech. For, at the time of instituting these mysteries, there 
 was not one vine in all Egypt, 2 the natives drinking nothing 
 but ale ; which liquor seems to have been far more ancient 
 than wine, and has the honour of owing its invention and 
 progress, not only to the Egyptian Osiris, 3 but to the Grecian 
 Bacchus, who, in their famous expedition, carried the receipt 
 of it along with them, and gave it to the nations they visited 
 or subdued. Besides, Bacchus himself, was very seldom, or 
 never drunk ; for it is recorded of him, that he was the first 
 inventor of the mitre, 4 which he wore continually on his 
 head (as the whole company of bacchanals did) to prevent 
 vapours and the headache after hard drinking. And for this 
 reason (say some) the Scarlet Whore, when she makes the 
 kings of the earth drunk with her cup of abomination, is 
 always sober herself, though she never balks the glass in her 
 
 1 Diod. Sic. L. I. Plut. de Iside et Osiride. 
 
 2 Herod. L. 2. 3 Diod. Sic. L. I and 3. 
 * Id. L. 4.
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 20/ 
 
 turn, being, it seems, kept upon her legs by the virtue of her 
 triple mitre. Now, these feasts were instituted in imitation 
 of the famous expedition Osiris made through the world, 
 and of the company that attended him, whereof the baccha- 
 nalian ceremonies were so many types and symbols. From 
 which account l it is manifest, that the fanatic rites of these 
 bacchanals cannot be imputed to intoxications by wine, 
 but must needs have had a deeper foundation. What this 
 was, we may gather large hints from certain circumstances in 
 the course of their mysteries. For, in the first place, there 
 was, in their processions, an entire mixture and confusion of 
 sexes ; they affected to ramble about hills and deserts : 
 Their garlands were of ivy and vine, emblems of cleaving and 
 clinging ; or of fir, the parent of turpentine. It is added, 
 that they imitated satyrs, were attended by goats, and rode 
 upon asses, all companions of great skill and practice in 
 affairs of gallantry. They bore for their ensigns certain curious 
 figures, perched upon long poles, made into the shape and size 
 of the virga genitalis, with its appurtenances, which were so 
 many shadows and emblems of the whole mystery, as well as 
 trophies set up by the female conquerors. Lastly, in a certain 
 town of Attica, the whole solemnity stripped of all its types, 2 
 was performed in pun's naturalibus, the votaries not flying 
 in coveys, but sorted into couples. The same may be 
 farther conjectured from the death of Orpheus, one of" the 
 institutors of these mysteries, who was torn in pieces by 
 women, because he refused to communicate his orgies to 
 them ; 3 which others explained, by telling us he had castrated 
 himself upon grief, for the loss of his wife. 
 
 Omitting many others of less note, the next fanatics we 
 meet with, of any eminence, were the numerous sects of here- 
 tics appearing in the five first centuries of the Christian era, 
 from Simon Magus and his followers to those of Eutyches. 
 I have collected their systems from infinite reading, and, 
 comparing them with those of their successors, in the several 
 ages since, I find there are certain bounds set even to the 
 irregularities of human thought, and those a great deal nar- 
 rower than is commonly apprehended. For, as they all 
 
 1 See the particulars in Diod. Sic. L. 1 and 3. 
 
 a Dionysia Brauronia. 
 
 3 Vide Photium in excerptis e Conone. 
 
 2
 
 208 A DISCOU-RSE ON THE MECHANICAL 
 
 frequently interfere, even in their wildest ravings ; so there is 
 one fundamental point, wherein they are sure to meet, as 
 lines in a centre, and that is, the Community of Women. 
 Great were their solicitudes in this matter, and they never 
 failed of certain articles, in their schemes of worship, on 
 purpose to establish it. 
 
 The last fanatics of note, were those which started up in 
 Germany, a little after the reformation of Luther ; springing 
 as mushrooms do at the end of a harvest ; such were John 
 of Leyden, David George, Adam Neuster, 1 and many others ; 
 whose visions and revelations, always terminated in leading 
 about half a dozen sisters a-piece, and making that practice 
 a fundamental part of their system. For, human life is a 
 continual navigation, and if we expect our vessels to pass 
 with safety through the waves and tempests of this fluctuat- 
 ing world, it is necessary to make a good provision of the 
 flesh, as seamen lay in store of beef for a long voyage. 
 
 Now from this brief survey of some principal sects among 
 the fanatics in all ages (having omitted the Mahometans 
 and others, who might also help to confirm the argument I 
 am about) to which I might add several among ourselves, 
 such as the Family of Love, Sweet Singers of Israel, and the 
 like : and from reflecting upon that fundamental point in 
 their doctrines about women, wherein they have so unani- 
 mously agreed ; I am apt to imagine, that the seed or 
 principle which has ever put men upon visions in things 
 
 1 John of Leyden, a fanatic tailor, whose real name was John 
 Boccold. He was the leader of those Anabaptists who, in 1533, seized 
 Munster. As head of this mob, he took upon himself to reform the 
 government. He was hailed as king and prophet ; but in 1536 was exe- 
 cuted, in the twenty-eighth year of his age. David George, born at Delft 
 in 1501, was the son of an acrobat. His real name was Jean de Coman. 
 He took the name of David, when he gave himself out as the Messiah. 
 He joined the Anabaptists, but afterwards set up a sect of his own. In 
 1542 appeared his famous " Wonderboek." He died in 1556. The 
 Neuster to whom Swift here refers is Adam Neuser, a Socinian theo- 
 logian of the sixteenth century. He strongly opposed the Elector of 
 the Palatinate in his attempts to introduce the system of the Genevan 
 ecclesiastical police, and attempted to introduce Socinianism. He was 
 imprisoned, but escaped, and fled to Constantinople, where he became 
 a Mohammedan. He died in 1576. All these individuals are notorious 
 for free living. In some of the sects the women went unclothed, 
 because they were considered to be the naked truth. fT. S.l
 
 OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 209 
 
 invisible, is of a corporeal nature ; for the profounder 
 chemists inform us, that the strongest spirits may be ex- 
 tracted from human flesh. Besides, the spinal marrow 
 being nothing else but a continuation of the brain, must 
 needs create a very free communication between the superior 
 faculties and those below : and thus the thorn in the flesh 
 serves for a spur to the spirit. I think, it is agreed among 
 physicians, that nothing affects the head so much as a tenti- 
 ginous humour, repelled and elated to the upper region, 
 found, by daily practice, to run frequently up into madness. 
 A very eminent member of the faculty assured me, that, 
 when the Quakers first appeared, he seldom was without 
 
 some female patients among them for the furor 
 
 Persons of a visionary devotion, either men or women, are, 
 in their complexion, of all others the most amorous ; for, 
 zeal is frequently kindled from the same spark with other 
 fires, and, from inflaming brotherly love, will proceed to 
 raise that of a gallant. If we inspect into the usual process 
 of modern courtship, we shall find it to consist in a devout 
 turn of the eyes, called ogling ; an artificial form of canting 
 and whining by rote, every interval, for want of other matter, 
 made up with a shrug or a hum, a sigh or a groan ; the 
 style compact of insignificant words, incoherences, and re- 
 petition. These, I take to be the most accomplished rules 
 of address to a mistress ; and where are these performed 
 with more dexterity than by the saints ? Nay, to bring this 
 argument yet closer, I have been informed by certain san- 
 guine brethren of the first class, that, in the height and 
 orgasmus of their spiritual exercise, it has been frequent 
 with them ****** immediately after which, they found 
 the spirit to relax and flag of a sudden with the nerves, and 
 they were forced to hasten to a conclusion. This may be 
 farther strengthened, by observing, with wonder, how un- 
 accountably all females are attracted by visionary or en- 
 thusiastic preachers, though ever so contemptible in their 
 outward men ; whichj is usually supposed to be done upon 
 considerations purely spiritual, without any carnal regards at 
 all. But I have reason to think, the sex hath certain charac- 
 teristics, by which they form a truer judgment of human 
 abilities and performings, than we ourselves can possibly do 
 of each other. Let that be as it will, thus much is certain, 
 1. P
 
 2IO MECHANICAL OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 
 
 that, however spiritual intrigues begin, they generally con- 
 clude like all others ; they may branch upward towards 
 heaven, but the root is in the earth. Too intense a con- 
 templation is not the business of flesh and blood ; it must, 
 by the necessary course of things, in a little time let go its 
 hold, and fall into matter. Lovers for the sake of celestial 
 converse are but another sort of Platonics, who pretend to 
 see stars and heaven in ladies' eyes, and to look or think 
 no lower ; but the same pit is provided for both ; and they 
 seem a perfect moral to the story of that philosopher, who, 
 while his thoughts and eyes were fixed upon the constella- 
 tions, found himself seduced by his lower parts into a ditch. 
 I had somewhat more to say upon this part of the subject, 
 but the post is just going, which forces me in great haste to 
 conclude, 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Yours, &x 
 
 Pray burn this letter as soon 
 as it conies to your hands.
 
 PREFACES TO TEMPLE'S WORKS.
 
 Sir William Temple died on 27th January, 1698-99. In his will he is 
 said to have left Swift the sum of ^100. Whether this be true or not, it 
 is certain that he was chosen to edit his patron's works and to receive the 
 proceeds of their sale. This Swift did, and he issued the works in five 
 volumes over a period of nearly ten years. The Letters were published 
 in 1700 (in two volumes) with a Dedication and Preface by Swift ; in 
 1 701 appeared the third part of Temple's Miscellanea, also with a 
 preface by Swift (the first two volumes had been issued by Temple him- 
 self) ; in 1703 he wrote a preface to the third volume of Temple's 
 Letters, and finally in 1709 a preface to the third part of the Memoirs. 
 By publishing the Memoirs he lost the favour of Lady Gifford, Temple's 
 sister, who considered the revelations made concerning the statesmen of 
 Temple's time as being unfit for public property. It was, indeed, owing 
 to Lady Gifford's opinion that the publication of the Memoirs was 
 delayed for so long. Mr. Forster, following Nichols, calculates that 
 Swift netted ^40 by each volume, but Mr. Craik considers the calculation 
 of doubtful accuracy. (See Craik's "Life of Swift," p. 75, note.) Forfull 
 particulars of these volumes see Bibliography of Swift's Writings. 
 [T. S.]
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO THE FIRST TWO VOLUMES OF 
 
 SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S LETTERS. 
 
 To his most sacred Majesty, William the Third, King of 
 England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, &c. These letters 
 of Sir William Temple having been left to my care, they are 
 most humbly presented to your Majesty, by 
 Your Majesty's 
 
 Most dutiful 
 
 And obedient Subject, 
 
 Jonathan Swift.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE FIRST TWO VOLUMES 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S LETTERS, 
 
 1700. 
 
 THE collection of the following letters is owing to the 
 diligence of Mr. Thomas Downton, who was one of 
 the secretaries during the whole time wherein they bear 
 date ; and it has succeeded very fortunately for the public, 
 that there is contained in them an account of all the chief 
 transactions and negotiations which passed in Christendom 
 during the seven years wherein they are dated ; as the war 
 from Holland, which began in 1665 ; the treaty between his 
 Majesty and the Bishop of Munster, with the issue of it ; the 
 French invasion of Flanders in the year 1667 ; the peace 
 concluded between Spain and Portugal by the King's media- 
 tion ; the treaty at Breda j the triple alliance ; the peace at 
 Aix-la-Chapelle, in the first part ; and in the second part, 
 the negotiations in Holland in consequence of those alliances, 
 with the steps and degrees by which they came to decay ; 
 the journey and death of Madam; the seizure of Lorrain 
 and his excellency's recalling ; with the first unkindness be- 
 tween England and Holland, upon the yacht's transporting 
 his lady and family ; and the beginning of the second Dutch 
 war in 1672. With these are intermixed several letters, 
 familiar and pleasant. 
 
 I found the book among Sir William Temple's papers, 
 with many others, wherewith I had the opportunity of being 
 long conversant, having passed several years in his family.
 
 2l6 PREFACE TO 
 
 I pretend no other part than the care that Mr. Downton's 
 book should be correctly transcribed, and the letters placed 
 in the order they were writ. I have also made some literal 
 amendments, especially in the Latin, French, and Spanish ; 
 these I took care should be translated and printed in another 
 column, for the use of such readers as may be unacquainted 
 with the originals. Whatever fault there may be in the 
 translation, I doubt I must answer for the greater part, and 
 must leave the rest to those friends who were pleased to 
 assist me. I speak only of the French and Latin ; for the 
 few Spanish translations I believe need no apology. 
 
 It is generally believed that this author has advanced our 
 English tongue to as great a perfection as it can well bear ; 
 and yet how great a master he was of it, as I think, never 
 appeared so much as it will in the following letters, wherein 
 the style appears so very different, according to the difference 
 of the persons to whom they were addressed ; either men of 
 business or idle, of pleasure or serious, of great or of less parts 
 or abilities, in their several stations ; so that one may dis- 
 cover the characters of most of those persons he writes to, 
 from the style of his letters. 
 
 At the end of each volume, is added a collection, copied 
 by the same hand, of several letters to this ambassador, from 
 the chief persons employed, either at home or abroad, in 
 these transactions, and during six years' course of his negotia- 
 tions ; among which are many from the pensionary John de 
 Witt, and all the writings of this kind that I know of, which 
 remain of that minister, so renowned in his time. 
 
 It has been justly complained of as a defect among us, 
 that the English tongue has produced no letters of any 
 value ; to supply which i4 has been the vein of late years, to 
 translate several out of other languages, though I think with 
 little success ; yet among many advantages, which might re- 
 commend this sort of writing, it is certain that nothing is so 
 capable of giving a true account of stories, as letters are ; 
 which describe actions while they are breathing, whereas all 
 other relations are of actions past and dead ; so as it has 
 been observed, that the epistles of Cicero to Atticus give a 
 better account of those times, than is to be found in any 
 other writer. 
 
 In the following letters the reader will everywhere discover
 
 TEMPLE'S W0RK3. 217 
 
 the force and spirit of this author ; but that which will most 
 value them to the public, both at home and abroad, is, first, 
 that the matters contained in them were the ground and 
 foundation, whereon all the wars and invasions, as well as all 
 the negotiations and treaties of peace in Christendom, have 
 since been raised. And next, that they are written by a 
 person who had so great a share in all those transactions and 
 negotiations. 
 
 By residing in his family, I know the author has had 
 frequent instances from several great persons, both at home 
 and abroad, to publish some memoirs of those affairs and 
 transactions, which are the subject of the following papers ; 
 and particularly of the treaties of the triple alliance, and those 
 of Aix-la-Chapelle ; but his usual answer was, that whatever 
 memoirs he had written of those times and negotiations were 
 burnt; however, that perhaps after his death some papers 
 might come out, wherein there would be some account 
 of them. By which, as he often told me, he meant these 
 letters. 
 
 I had begun to fit them for the press during the author's 
 life, but never could prevail for leave to publish them ; 
 though he was pleased to be at the pains of reviewing, and 
 to give me his directions for digesting them in order. It has 
 since pleased God to take this great and good person to him- 
 self; and he having done me the honour to leave and 
 recommend to me the care of his writings, I thought I could 
 not at present do a greater service to my country, or to the 
 author's memory, than by making these papers public. 
 
 By way of introduction, I need only take notice, that 
 after the peace of the Pyrenees, and his Majesty's happy 
 restoration in 1660, there was a general peace in Christendom, 
 (except only the remainder of a war between Spain and 
 Portugal,) until the year 1665 ; when that between England 
 and Holland began, which produced a treaty between his 
 Majesty and the Bishop of Munster. And this commences 
 the following letters.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE THIRD PART 
 
 OF 
 
 ' SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S 
 MISCELLANEA, 1701. 
 
 THE two following essays, "Of Popular Discontents," 
 and " Of Health and Long Life," were written many 
 years before the author's death. They were revised and 
 corrected by himself; and were designed to have been part 
 of a Third Miscellanea, to which some others were to have 
 been added, if the latter part of his life had been attended 
 with any sufficient degree of health. 
 
 For the third paper, relating to the controversy about 
 " Ancient and Modern Learning," I cannot well inform the 
 reader upon what occasion it was writ, having been at that 
 time in another kingdom ; but it appears never to have been 
 finished by the author. 1 
 
 The two next papers contain the heads of two essays 
 
 1 It seems very improbable that Dr. Swift should be altogether 
 ignorant of the famous dispute about " Ancient and Modern Learning." 
 If he had not made his public declaration, he would highly, and with 
 justice, have resented the being taxed by any other with being ignorant 
 of a passage which made so great a noise in the commonwealth of 
 learning. At this time, however, the doctor, (being generally suspected 
 of being the author of " A Tale of a Tub," which came abroad some 
 time before, and which he did not think fit to own,) might fancy, that 
 by his disclaiming the knowledge of the occasion on which Sir William 
 wrote the above Essay, he should weaken the suspicion of his having 
 written "A Tale of a Tub," which last is a subsidiary defence of Sir 
 William Temple. [D. S.]
 
 PREFACE TO TEMPLE'S WORKS. 2IQ 
 
 intended to have been written upon the "Different Con- 
 ditions of Life and Fortune," and upon " Conversation." 
 I have directed they should be printed among the rest, 
 because I believe there are few who will not be content to 
 see even the first draught of anything from the author's 
 hand. 
 
 At the end I have added a few translations from Virgil, 
 Horace, and Tibullus, or rather imitations, done by the 
 author above thirty years ago ; whereof the first was printed 
 among other Eclogues of Virgil, in the year 1679, but 
 without any mention of the author. They were indeed 
 not intended to have been made public, till I was informed 
 of several copies that were got abroad, and those very 
 imperfect and corrupt. Therefore the reader finds them 
 here, only to prevent him from finding them in other places 
 very faulty, and perhaps accompanied with many spurious 
 additions. 
 
 Jonathan Swift.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE THIRD VOLUME 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S LETTERS, 
 
 1703. 
 
 THE following papers are the last of this, or indeed of 
 any kind, about which the author ever gave me his 
 particular commands. They were corrected by himself, and 
 fairly transcribed in his lifetime. I have in all things 
 followed his directions as strictly as I could ; but accidents 
 unforeseen having since intervened, I have thought convenient 
 to lessen the bulk of this volume. To which end, I have 
 omitted several letters addressed to persons with whom this 
 author corresponded without any particular confidence, 
 farther than upon account of their posts : because great 
 numbers of such letters, procured out of the office, or bv 
 other means, (how justifiable I shall not examine,) have been 
 already printed : but, running wholly upon long dry subjects 
 of business, have met no other reception than merely what 
 the reputation of the author would give them. If I could 
 have foreseen an end of this trade, I should, upon some 
 considerations, have longer forborne sending th se into the 
 world. But I daily hear, that new discoveries of original 
 letters are hasting to the press : to stop the current of which, 
 I am forced to an earlier publication than I designed. And 
 therefore I take this occasion to inform the reader, that 
 these letters, ending with the author's revocation from his 
 employments abroad, (which in less than two years was 
 followed by his retirement from all public business,) are the
 
 PREFACE TO TEMPLE'S WORKS. 221 
 
 last he ever intended for the press ; having been selected by 
 himself from great numbers yet lying among his papers. 
 
 If I could have been prevailed with by the rhetoric of 
 booksellers, or any other little regards, I might easily, instead 
 of retrenching, have made very considerable additions : and 
 by that means have perhaps taken the surest course to 
 prevent the interloping of others. But, if the press must 
 needs be loaded, I would rather it should not be by my 
 means. And therefore I may hope to be allowed one word 
 in the style of a publisher, (an office liable to much censure 
 without the least pretensions to merit or to praise,) that if I 
 have not been much deceived in others and myself, the reader 
 will hardly find one Letter in this collection unworthy of the 
 author, or which does not contain something either of enter- 
 tainment or of use.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 TO 
 
 THE THIRD PART 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S MEMOIRS; 
 
 FROM THE PEACE CONCLUDED 1 679 TO THE TIME OF THE 
 AUTHOR'S RETIREMENT FROM PUBLIC BUSINESS. 
 
 [first published in 1709.] 
 
 IT was perfectly in compliance to some persons for whose 
 opinion I have great deference, that I so long withheld 
 the publication of the following papers. They seemed to 
 think, that the freedom of some passages in these Memoirs 
 might give offence to several who were still alive; and whose 
 part in those affairs which are here related, could not be 
 transmitted to posterity with any advantage to their reputa- 
 tion. But whether this objection be in itself of much weight, 
 may perhaps be disputed; at least it should have little 
 with me, who am under no restraint in that particular; 
 since I am not of an age to remember those transactions, nor 
 had any acquaintance with those persons whose counsels or 
 proceedings are condemned, and who are all of them now 
 dead. 
 
 But, as this author is very free in exposing the weakness 
 and corruptions of ill ministers, so he is as ready to commend 
 the abilities and virtue of others, as may be observed from 
 several passages of these Memoirs ; particularly of the late 
 Earl of Sunderland, with whom the author continued in the 
 most intimate friendship to his death ; and who was father of 
 that most learned and excellent lord, now secretary of state:
 
 PREFACE TO TEMPLE'S WORKS. 223 
 
 as likewise, of the present Earl of Rochester ; and the Earl 
 of Godolphin, now lord treasurer, represented by this im- 
 partial author as a person at that time deservedly entrusted 
 with so great a part in the prime ministry ; an office he now 
 executes again with such universal applause, so much to the 
 Queen's honour and his own, and to the advantage of his 
 country, as well as of the whole confederacy. 
 
 There are two objections I have sometimes heard to have 
 been offered against those Memoirs that were printed in the 
 author's life-time, and which these now published may perhaps 
 be equally liable to. First, as to the matter ; that the author 
 speaks too much of himself : next, as to the style ; that he 
 affects the use of French words, as well as some turns of ex- 
 pression peculiar to that language. 
 
 I believe, those who make the former criticism do not 
 well consider the nature of memoirs : it is to the French (if 
 I mistake not) we chiefly owe that manner of writing : and 
 Sir William Temple is not only the first, but I think the only 
 Englishman, (at least of any consequence,) who ever attempted 
 it. The best French memoirs are writ by such persons as 
 were the principal actors in those transactions they pretend 
 to relate, whether of wars or negotiations. Those of Sir 
 William Temple are of the same nature ; and therefore, in 
 my judgment, the publisher (who sent them into the world 
 without the author's privity) gave them a wrong title, when 
 he called them " Memoirs of what passed in Christendom," 
 &c, whereas it should rather have been " Memoirs of the 
 Treaty at Nimeguen," which was plainly the sense of the 
 author, who in the epistle tells his son, that " in compliance 
 with his desire, he will leave him some memoirs of what 
 passed in his public employments abroad ; " and in the book 
 itself, when he deduces an account of the state of war in 
 Christendom, he says, it is only to prepare the reader for a 
 relation of that famous treaty; where he and Sir Lionel 
 Jenkins were the only mediators that continued any consider- 
 able time ; and as the author was first in commission, so in 
 point of abilities or credit, either abroad or at home, there was 
 no sort of comparison between the two persons. Those 
 memoirs, therefore, are properly a relation of a general 
 treaty of peace, wherein the author had the principal as well 
 as the most honourable part in quality of mediator ; so that
 
 224 PREFACE TO 
 
 the frequent mention of himself seems not only excusable 
 but necessary. The same may be offered in defence of the 
 following papers ; because, during the greatest part of the 
 period they treat of, the author was in chief confidence with 
 the king his master. To which may be added, that, in the 
 few preliminary lines at the head of the first page, the author 
 professes he writ those papers " for the satisfaction of his 
 friends hereafter, upon the grounds of his retirement, and his 
 resolution never to meddle again with public affairs." As to 
 the objection against the style of the former Memoirs, that it 
 abounds in French words and turns of expression ; it is to 
 be considered, that at the treaty of Nimeguen, all business, 
 either by writing or discourse, passed in the French tongue; 
 and the author having lived so many years abroad, in that 
 and foreign embassies, where all business, as well as conver- 
 sation, ran in that language, it was hardly possible for him to 
 write upon public affairs without some tincture of it in his 
 style, though in his other writings there be little or nothing 
 of it to be observed ; and as he has often assured me, it was 
 a thing he never affected ; so, upon the objections made to 
 his former Memoirs, he blotted out some French words in 
 these, and placed English in their stead, though perhaps not 
 so significant. 
 
 There is one thing proper to inform the reader, why these 
 Memoirs are called the Third Part, there having never been 
 published but one part before, where, in the beginning, the 
 author mentions a former part, and in the conclusion pro- 
 mises a third. The subject of the first part was chiefly the 
 triple alliance, during the negotiation of which my Lord 
 Arlington was secretary of state and chief minister. Sir 
 William Temple often assured me, he had burnt those 
 Memoirs ; and for that reason was content his letters during 
 his embassies at the Hague and Aix-la-Chapelle, should 
 be printed after his death, in some manner to supply that 
 loss. 
 
 What it was that moved Sir William Temple to burn those 
 first Memoirs, may perhaps be conjectured from some passages 
 in the second part, formerly printed. In one place, the author 
 has these words : " My Lord Arlington, who made so great 
 a figure in the former part of these Memoirs, was now grown 
 out of all credit," &c. In other parts he tells us, "That lord
 
 temple's works. 225 
 
 was of the ministry which broke the triple league ; advised 
 the Dutch war and French alliance; and, in short, was 
 the bottom of all those ruinous measures which the court 
 of England was then taking ; " so that, as I have been 
 told from a good hand, and as it seems very probable, he 
 could not think that lord a person fit to be celebrated for 
 his part in forwarding that famous league while he was 
 secretary of state, who had made such counterpaces to destroy 
 it. At the end I have subjoined an Appendix, containing, 
 besides one or two other particulars, a Speech of Sir William 
 Temple's in the House of Commons ; and an Answer of the 
 King's to an Address of that House, relating to the Bill of 
 Exclusion ; both which are mentioned in these Memoirs. 
 
 I have only farther to inform the reader, that, although 
 these papers were corrected by the author, yet he had once 
 intended to insert some additions in several places, as 
 appeared by certain hints or memorandums in the margin ; 
 but whether they were omitted out of forgetfulness, neglect, 
 or want of health, I cannot determine ; one passage relating 
 to Sir William Jones he was pleased to tell me, and I have 
 added it in the Appendix. The rest I know nothing of; 
 but the thread of the story is entire without them. 
 
 1.
 
 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS IN 
 ATHENS AND ROME.
 
 "The Dissensions in Athens and Rome" is Swift's first essay in 
 politics. It was published shortly after his return to England in the 
 company of his patron, Lord Berkeley, in 1701. 
 
 The year before had been a particularly critical one as regards the 
 relationship between the representatives of the people and the monarchy. 
 The Tories had strenuously opposed a Resumption Bill, by which King 
 William's Dutch adherents were to continue to benefit from the estates 
 in Ireland which had been forfeited after the Revolution of 1688. In 
 the House of Commons, where the Tory element was very strong, 
 William found his bitterest opponents. The Whig Upper House suc- 
 ceeded in helping him to a victory over the Resumption Bill, but the 
 victory was dearly bought. Both houses took up an attitude to each 
 other of determined opposition. The elections of February, 1701, 
 resulted in a large addition to the Tory strength ; this, with the fact of 
 the death of the only surviving son of Princess Anne, compelled the king to 
 make terms with the stronger party. The unpopular Partition Treaty was 
 seized on as offering a ready excuse for the Tories' demands. They were 
 not satisfied with the dismissal of the Whig Lord Chancellor, Lord Somers, 
 but they took steps to impeach him along with Lords Orford, Halifax, and 
 the Earl of Portland, for their share in the treaty. At the same time 
 the Commons addressed William to remove these lords from his councils 
 and court. The House of Lords took up the case of their fellow-peers, 
 and petitioned the king to await the issue of their trial. It was at this 
 juncture that Swift stepped in with his pamphlet. While being a defence 
 of Somers, it brought both parties to a sense of the dangers they were 
 courting by a piece of admirable comparison. Happily for Swift's 
 reputation, events followed which justified his prognostications. The 
 death of James II. ended in Louis XIV. ; s acknowledgment of the 
 Pretender. This roused the English people to an ardent expression of 
 loyalty to William, and the November elections found Parliament 
 strongly Whig, and all for the king. 
 
 Swift's avowal of the authorship brought him the friendship of Somers, 
 Bishop Burnet, and the leaders of the Whig party. So highly was the 
 pamphlet thought of, that it was considered by many that either Somers 
 or the Bishop of Salisbury had written it. 
 
 The " balance of power " theory, which Swift assumes in this 
 pamphlet, was one commonly accepted by the politicians of his day. 
 The Revolution had upset the doctrine of the divine right of kings. 
 Society was now considered, as Locke expounded it — a collection of in- 
 dividuals who had originally entered on a contract to give up some por 
 tion of their liberty in order to maintain the harmony of the body politic. 
 This theory Swift found elaborated in detail in Harrington's "Oceana." 
 It is not a theory which Swift could accept without many reservations. 
 In spite of his antagonism to Hobbes, Swift had much in common with 
 that acute thinker ; and we find, in the course of this essay, that the 
 power of the people becomes the power of the king. He felt instinc- 
 tively that the dangers from a democracy were not a whit less harmful 
 than those which had resulted from a monarchy. [T. S.]
 
 A 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 O F T H E 
 
 Contefts and Dljfenjions 
 
 BETW EEN THE 
 
 NOBLES and the COMMONS 
 
 I N 
 
 ATHENS and ROME, 
 
 WITH THE 
 Conferences they had upon both thofe 
 
 STATES. 
 
 -•Si tibi vera videtur 
 
 Dcdc mantis ; & ft falja efl accing".re contra, Lucrec. 
 
 LONDON: 
 Printed (ox John Null neat Stationers- Hall, 170U
 
 DISCOURSE, &c. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 ""PIS agreed, that in all government there is an absolute 
 ■*■ unlimited power, which naturally and originally seems to 
 be placed in the whole body, wherever the executive part of 
 it lies. This holds in the body natural ; for wherever we 
 place the beginning of motion, whether from the head, or the 
 heart, or the animal spirits in general, the body moves and 
 acts by a consent of all its parts. This unlimited power, 
 placed fundamentally in the body of a People, is what the 
 best legislators of all ages have endeavoured, in their several 
 schemes or institutions of government, to deposit in such 
 hands as would preserve the people from rapine and op- 
 pression within, as well as violence from without. Most of 
 them seem to agree in this, that it was a trust too great to be 
 committed to any one man or assembly, and, therefore, they 
 left the right still in the whole body ; but the administration 
 or executive part, in the hands of the one, the few, or the 
 many, into which three powers all independent bodies of men 
 seem naturally to divide ; for by all I have read of those 
 innumerable and petty commonwealths in Italy, Greece, and 
 Sicily, as well as the great ones of Carthage and Rome, it 
 seems to me, that a free People met together, whether by 
 compact, or family government, as soon as they fall into any 
 acts of civil society, do of themselves divide into three 
 powers. The first is that of some one eminent spirit, who, 
 having signalized his valour and fortune in defence of his 
 country, or by the practice of popular arts at home, comes to 
 have great influence on the people, to grow their leader in 
 warlike expeditions, and to preside, after a sort, in their civil 
 assemblies ; and this is grounded upon the principles of 
 nature and common reason, which, in all difficulties or
 
 232 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 dangers, where prudence or courage is required, rather incite 
 us to fly for counsel or assistance to a single person, than a 
 multitude. The second natural division of power is, of such 
 men, who have acquired large possessions, and consequently 
 dependencies, or descend from ancestors who have left them 
 great inheritances, together with an hereditary authority. 
 These easily uniting in thoughts and opinions, and acting in 
 concert, begin to enter upon measures for securing their 
 properties, which are best upheld by preparing against in- 
 vasions from abroad, and maintaining peace at home ; this 
 commences a great council, or Senate of Nobles, for the 
 weighty affairs of the nation. The last division is, of the 
 mass or body of the people, whose part of power is great and 
 indisputable, whenever they can unite either collectively, or 
 by deputation, to exert it. Now the three forms of govern- 
 ment so generally known in the schools, differ only by the 
 civil administration being placed in the hands of one, ot 
 sometimes two, (as in Sparta,) who were called Kings ; or in 
 a senate, who were called the Nobles ; or in the people col- 
 lective or representative, who may be called the Commons. 
 Each of these had frequently the executive power in Greece, 
 and sometimes in Rome ; but the power in the last resort 
 was always meant by legislators to be held in balance among 
 all three. And it will be an eternal rule in politics among 
 every free people, that there is a balance of power to be 
 carefully held by every state within itself, as well as among 
 several states with each other. 
 
 The true meaning of a balance of power, either without or 
 within a state, is best conceived by considering what the 
 nature of a balance is. It supposes three things : First, the 
 part which is held, together with the hand that holds it ; and 
 then the two scales, with whatever is weighed therein. Now 
 consider several states in a neighbourhood; in order to 
 preserve peace between these states, it is necessary they 
 should be formed into a balance, whereof one or more are to 
 be directors, who are to divide the rest into equal scales, and, 
 upon occasion, remove from one into the other, or else fall 
 with their own weight into the lightest ; so, in a state within 
 itself, the balance must be held by a third hand, who is to 
 deal the remaining power with the utmost exactness into the 
 several scales. Now it is not necessary, that the power
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 233 
 
 should be equally divided between these three; for the balance 
 may be held by the weakest, who, by his address and con- 
 duct, removing from either scale and adding of his own, may 
 keep the scales duly poised. Such was that of the two kings 
 of Sparta, the consular power in Rome, that of the kings of 
 Media before the reign of Cyrus, as represented by Xenophon; 
 and that of the several limited states in the Gothic institution. 
 
 When the balance is broken, whether by the negligence, 
 folly, or weakness of the hand that held it, or by mighty 
 weights fallen into either scale, the power will never continue 
 long in equal division between the two remaining parties, but 
 (till the balance is fixed anew) will run entirely into one. 
 This gives the truest account of what is understood in the 
 most ancient and approved Greek authors, by the word 
 Tyranny, which is not meant for the seizing of the un- 
 controlled or absolute power into the hands of a single 
 person (as many superficial men have grossly mistaken) but 
 for the breaking of the balance by whatever hand, and leaving 
 the power wholly in one scale : For tyranny and usurpation 
 in a state are by no means confined to any number, as might 
 easily appear from examples enough ; and, because the point 
 is material, I shall cite a few to prove it. 
 
 The Romans 1 having sent to Athens, and the Greek cities 
 of Italy, for the copies of the best laws, chose ten legislators 
 to put them into form, and, during the exercise of their 
 office, suspended the consular power, leaving the administra- 
 tion of affairs in their hands. These very men, though 
 chosen for such a work, as the digesting a body of laws for 
 the government of a free state, did immediately usurp 
 arbitrary power : ran into all the forms of it, had their guards 
 and spies after the practice of the tyrants of those ages, 
 affected kingly state, destroyed the Nobles, and oppressed 
 the People ; one of them proceeding so far as to endeavour to 
 force a lady of great virtue : the very crime, which gave occa- 
 sion to the expulsion of the regal power but sixty years before, 
 as this attempt did to that of the Decemviri. 
 
 The Ephori in Sparta were at first only certain persons 
 deputed by the kings to judge in civil matters, while they 
 were employed in the wars. These men, at several times, 
 
 1 Dionys. Hal. lib. 10.
 
 234 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 usurped the absolute authority, and were as cruel tyrants as 
 any in their age. 
 
 Soon after the unfortunate expedition into Sicily, 1 the 
 Athenians chose four hundred men for administration of 
 affairs, who became a body of tyrants, and were called, in the 
 language of those ages, an Oligarchy, or Tyranny of the Few ; 
 under which hateful denomination they were soon after de- 
 posed in great rage by the People. 
 
 When Athens was subdued by Lysander, 2 he appointed 
 thirty men for the administration of that city, who immediately 
 fell into the rankest tyranny ; but this was not all ; for, con- 
 ceiving their power not founded on a basis large enough, 
 they admitted three thousand into a share of the government ; 
 and thus fortified, became the cruellest tyranny upon record. 
 They murdered in cold blood great numbers of the best men, 
 without any provocation, from the mere lust of cruelty, like 
 Nero or Caligula. This was such a number of tyrants 
 together, as amounted to near a third part of the whole city ; 
 for Xenophon tells us, 3 that the city contained about ten 
 thousand houses ; and allowing one man to every house, who 
 could have any share in the government, (the rest consisting 
 of women, children, and servants,) and making other obvious 
 abatements, these tyrants, if they had been careful to adhere 
 together, might have been a majority even of the people 
 collective. 
 
 In the time of the second Punic war, 4 the balance of power 
 in Carthage was got on the side of the people, and this to a 
 degree, that some authors reckon the government to have 
 been then among them a dominatio plebis, or Tyranny of the 
 Commons ; which it seems they were at all times apt to fall 
 into, and was at last among the causes that ruined their 
 state : and the frequent murders of their generals, which 
 Diodorus 5 tells us was grown to an established custom among 
 them, may be another instance, that tyranny is not confined to 
 numbers. 
 
 I shall mention but one example more among a great 
 number that might be produced ; it is related by the author 
 last cited. 6 The orators of the people at Argos (whether you 
 
 1 Thucyd. lib. 8. 2 Xenoph. de Rebus Grtec. 1. 2. 
 
 3 Memorab. lib. 3. 4 Polyb. Frag. lib. 6. 
 
 6 Lib. 20. 8 Lib. 15.
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 235 
 
 will style them, in modern phrase, great speakers of the 
 house ; or only, in general, representatives of the people col- 
 lective) stirred up the commons against the nobles, of whom 
 1 600 were murdered at once ; and at last, the orators them- 
 selves, because they left off their accusations, or, to speak 
 intelligibly, because they withdrew their impeachments; 
 having, it seems, raised a spirit they were not able to lay. 
 And this last circumstance, as cases have lately stood, may 
 perhaps be worth noting. 
 
 From what has been already advanced, several conclusions 
 may be drawn. 
 
 First, That a mixed government, partaking of the known 
 forms received in the schools, is by no means of Gothic in- 
 vention, but hath place in nature and reason, seems very 
 well to agree with the sentiments of most legislators, and to 
 have been followed in most states, whether they have 
 appeared under the name of monarchies, aristocracies, or 
 democracies : For, not to mention the several republics of 
 this composition in Gaul and Germany, described by Caesar 
 and Tacitus, Polybius tells us, the best government is that, 
 which consists of three forms, Regno, Optimatium, et Populi 
 imperio ; x which may be fairly translated, the King, Lords, 
 and Commons. Such was that of Sparta, in its primitive 
 institution by Lycurgus ; who, observing the corruptions and 
 depravations to which every of these was subject, com- 
 pounded his scheme out of all ; so that it was made up of 
 Reges, Seniores, et Populus. Such also was the state of 
 Rome under its consuls ; and the author tells us, that the 
 Romans fell upon this model purely by chance, (which I 
 take to have been nature and common reason,) but the 
 Spartans by thought and design. And such at Carthage was 
 the summa reipublicce, 2 or power in the last resort ; for they 
 had their kings, called Suffetes, and a Senate, which had the 
 power of nobles, and the people had a share established too. 
 
 Secondly, It will follow, that those reasoners, who employ 
 so much of their zeal, their wit, and their leisure for the up- 
 holding the balance of power in Christendom, at the same 
 time that by their practices they are endeavouring to destroy 
 it at home, are not such mighty patriots, or so much i/i the 
 
 1 Frag. lib. 6. a Id. ib.
 
 236 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 true interest of their country, as they would affect to be 
 thought, but seem to be employed like a man, who pulls 
 down with his right hand what he has been building with 
 his left. 
 
 Thirdly, This makes appear the error of those, who think 
 it an uncontrollable maxim, that power is always safer lodged 
 in many hands than in one : For, if these many hands be 
 made up only from one of the three divisions before-men- 
 tioned, it is plain from those examples already produced, and 
 easy to be paralleled in other ages and countries, that they 
 are capable of enslaving the nation, and of acting all manner 
 of tyranny and oppression, as it is possible for a single person 
 to be, although we should suppose their number not only to 
 be of four or five hundred, but above three thousand. 
 
 Again, it is manifest, from what has been said, that, in 
 order to preserve the balance in a mixed state, the limits of 
 power deposited with each party ought to be ascertained, 
 and generally known. The defect of this is the cause that 
 introduces those stragglings in a state, about Prerogative and 
 Liberty ; about Encroachments of the Few upon the Rights 
 of the Many, and of the Many upon the Privileges of the 
 Few, which ever did, and ever will, conclude in a Tyranny ; 
 first, either of the Few, or the Many ; but at last, infallibly 
 of a single person : For whichever of the three divisions in 
 a state is upon the scramble for more power than its own, 
 (as one or other of them generally is,) unless due care be 
 taken by the other two, upon every new question that arises, 
 they will be sure to decide in favour of themselves, talk 
 much of inherent Right ; they will nourish up a dormant 
 power, and reserve privileges in petto, to exert upon occasions, 
 to serve expedients, and to urge upon necessities ; they 
 will make large demands, and scanty concessions, ever 
 coming off considerable gainers : Thus at length the balance 
 is broke, and Tyranny let in, from which door of the three 
 it matters not. 
 
 To pretend to a declarative right upon any occasion what- 
 soever, is little less than to make use of the whole power ; 
 that is, to declare an opinion to be law, which has always 
 been contested, or perhaps never started at all before such 
 an incident brought it on the stage. Not to consent to the 
 enacting of such a law, which has no view beside the general
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 237 
 
 good, unless another law shall at the same time pass, with 
 no other view but that of advancing the power of one party 
 alone ; what is this but to claim a positive voice as well as a 
 negative? 1 To pretend that great changes and alienations 
 of property have created new and great dependencies, and, 
 consequently, new additions of power, as some reasoners 
 have done, is a most dangerous tenet. 2 If dominion must 
 follow property, let it follow in the same pace ; for, change 
 in property through the bulk of a nation makes slow 
 marches, and its due power always attends it. To conclude, 
 that whatever attempt is begun by an assembly ought to be 
 pursued to the end, without regard to the greatest incidents 
 that may happen to alter the case ; to count it mean, and 
 below the dignity of a house, to quit a prosecution; to 
 resolve upon a conclusion, before it is possible to be apprised 
 of the premises ; to act thus, I say, is to affect not only 
 absolute power, but infallibility too. 3 Yet such unaccount- 
 able proceedings as these have popular assemblies engaged 
 in, for want of fixing the due limits of power and privilege. 
 
 Great changes may indeed be made in a government, yet 
 the form continue, and the balance be held : But large in- 
 tervals of time must pass between every such innovation, 
 enough to melt down and make it of a piece with the con- 
 stitution. Such, we are told, were the proceedings of Solon, 
 when he modelled anew the Athenian Commonwealth ; 
 
 1 On the second of April, 1701, the House of Commons sent up to 
 the House of Peers the bill for the land-tax, to which they had coupled, 
 or, as the phrase went, tacked, a clause for the sale of the forfeited 
 estates in Ireland, to follow upon the resumption of the grants of the 
 said estates, made by King William to the Countess of Orkney, his 
 mistress, and to several of his favourites. This being thought to en- 
 croach upon the privileges of the peers, was the subject of warm dis- 
 cussion between the two Houses, and the bill was only passed by the 
 special interference of the king, who dreaded the consequences of the 
 dispute to which it gave rise. [S.] 
 
 2 In the bill for resumption of the forfeited estates in Ireland was a 
 clause for erecting a judicature to decide the claims touching the said 
 property. And, in other respects, the House acted as if the peculiar 
 extent and importance of these forfeitures had given the national council 
 a greater title to interfere in the management of them, than in the dis- 
 posal of escheats of less importance. [S.] 
 
 3 Alluding to the commons declining to give up the impeachment of 
 the four lords, although they experienced the difficulty of supporting it 
 by specific articles of accusation. [S.]
 
 238 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 and what convulsions in our own, as well as other states, 
 have been bred by a neglect of this rule, is fresh and notori- 
 ous enough : It is too soon, in all conscience, to repeat this 
 error again. 
 
 Having shown, that there is a natural balance of power in 
 all free states, and how it hath been divided, sometimes by 
 the people themselves, as in Rome, at others by the institu- 
 tions of the legislators, as in the several states of Greece and 
 Sicily ; the next thing is to examine what methods have been 
 taken to break or overthrow this balance, which every one of 
 the three parties hath continually endeavoured, as opportu- 
 nities have served ; as might appear from the stories of most 
 ages and countries : For, absolute power in a particular 
 state is of the same nature with universal monarchy in several 
 states adjoining to each other. So endless and exorbitant 
 are the desires of men, whether considered in their persons 
 or their states, that they will grasp at all, and can form no 
 scheme of perfect happiness with less. Ever since men 
 have been united into governments, the hopes and en- 
 deavours after universal monarchy have been bandied among 
 them, from the reign of Ninus, to this of the Most Christian 
 King ; in which pursuits commonwealths have had their 
 share, as well as monarchs : So the Athenians, the Spartans, 
 the Thebans, and the Achaians, did several times aim at the 
 universal monarchy of Greece ; so the commonwealths of 
 Carthage and Rome affected the universal monarchy of the 
 then known world. In like manner has absolute power 
 been pursued by the several parties of each particular state ; 
 wherein single persons have met with most success, though 
 the endeavours of the Few and the Many have been frequent 
 enough ; but, being neither so uniform in their designs, nor 
 so direct in their views, they neither could manage nor main- 
 tain the power they had got ; but were ever deceived by the 
 popularity and ambition of some single person. So that it 
 will be always a wrong step in policy, for the Nobles and 
 Commons to carry their endeavours after power so far as 
 to overthrow the balance : And it would be enough to 
 damp their warmth in such pursuits, if they could once 
 reflect, that in such a course they will be sure to run upon 
 the very rock that they meant to avoid ; which, I suppose, 
 they would have us think is the tyranny of a single person.
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 239 
 
 Many examples might be produced of the endeavours of 
 each of these three rivals after absolute power ; but I shall 
 suit my discourse to the time I am writing in, and relate 
 only such dissensions in Greece and Rome, between the 
 Nobles and Commons, with the consequences of them, 
 wherein the latter were the aggressors. 
 
 I shall begin with Greece, where my observation shall 
 be confined to Athens, though several instances might be 
 brought from other states thereof. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Of the Dissensions in Athens, between the Few and the Many. 
 
 Theseus is the first who is recorded, with any appearance of 
 truth, to have brought the Grecians from a barbarous manner 
 of life, among scattered villages, into cities; and to have 
 established the popular state in Athens, assigning to himself 
 the guardianship of the laws, and chief command in war. 
 He was forced, after some time, to leave the Athenians to 
 their own measures, upon account of their seditious temper, 
 which ever continued with them, till the final dissolution of 
 their government by the Romans. It seems, the country 
 about Attica was the most barren of any in Greece ; through 
 which means it happened, that the natives were never 
 expelled by the fury of invaders, (who thought it not worth 
 a conquest,) but continued always aborigines ; and therefore 
 retained, through all revolutions, a tincture of that turbulent 
 spirit wherewith their government began. This institution of 
 Theseus appears to have been rather a sort of mixed 
 monarchy than a popular state, and for aught we know, 
 might continue so during the series of kings, till the death of 
 Codrus. From this last prince, Solon was said to be de- 
 scended ; who, finding the people engaged in two violent 
 factions of the Poor and the Rich, and in great confusion there- 
 upon ; refusing the monarchy which was offered him, chose 
 rather to cast the government after another model, wherein he 
 madedue provision for settling the balance of power, choosing 
 a senate of four hundred and disposing the magistracies and
 
 240 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 offices according to men's estates ; leaving to the multitude 
 their votes in electing, and the power of judging certain pro- 
 cesses by appeal. This council of 400 was chosen, 100 out 
 of each tribe, and seems to have been a body representative 
 of the people; though the people collective reserved a 
 share of power to themselves. It is a point of history per- 
 plexed enough ; but this much is certain, that the balance 
 of power was provided for ; else Pisistratus, called by authors 
 the Tyrant of Athens, could never have governed so peace- 
 ably as he did, without changing any of Solon's laws. 1 These 
 several powers, together with that of the Archon or chief 
 magistrate, made up the form of government in Athens, at 
 what time it began to appear upon the scene of action and 
 story. 
 
 The first great man bred up under this institution was 
 Miltiades, who lived about ninety years after Solon, and is 
 reckoned to have been the first great captain, not only of 
 Athens, but of all Greece. From the time of Miltiades 
 to that of Phocion, who is looked upon as the last famous 
 general of Athens, are about 1 30 years ; after which, they were 
 subdued and insulted by Alexander's captains, and continued 
 under several revolutions a small truckling state of no name 
 or reputation, till they fell, with the rest of Greece, under the 
 power of the Romans. 
 
 During this period from Miltiades to Phocion, I shall 
 trace the conduct of the Athenians with relation to their 
 dissensions between the People and some of their Generals ; 
 who, at that time, by their power and credit in the army, in 
 a warlike commonwealth, and often supported by each other, 
 were, with the magistrates and other civil officers, a sort of 
 counterpoise to the power of the people, who, since the death 
 of Solon, had already made great encroachments. What 
 these dissensions were, how founded, and what the con- 
 sequences of them, I shall briefly and impartially relate. 
 
 I must here premise, that the Nobles in Athens were not 
 at this time a corporate assembly, that I can gather ; there- 
 fore the resentments of the Commons were usually turned 
 against particular persons, and by way of articles of impeach- 
 ment. Whereas the Commons in Rome and some other 
 
 1 Herodot. lib. I.
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 241 
 
 states, as will appear in a proper place, though they followed 
 this method upon occasion, yet generally pursued the en- 
 largement of their power by more set quarrels of one entire 
 assembly against another. However, the custom of particular 
 impeachments being not limited to former ages, any more 
 than that of general struggles and dissensions between fixed 
 assemblies of Nobles and Commons ; and the ruin of Greece 
 having been owing to the former, as that of Rome was to the 
 latter ; I shall treat on both expressly ; that those states who 
 are concerned in either, (if, at least, there be any such now 
 in the world,) may, by observing the means and issues 
 of former dissensions, learn whether the causes are alike in 
 theirs j and if they find them to be so, may consider whether 
 they ought not justly to apprehend the same effects. 
 
 To speak of every particular person impeached by the 
 Commons of Athens, within the compass designed, would 
 introduce the history of almost every great man they had 
 among them. I shall therefore take notice only of six, who, 
 living at that period of time when Athens was at the height 
 of its glory, (as indeed it could not be otherwise while such 
 hands were at the helm) though impeached for high crimes 
 and misdemeanours, such as bribery, arbitrary proceedings, 
 misapplying or embezzling public funds, ill conduct at sea, 
 and the like, were honoured and lamented by their country 
 as the preservers of it, and have had the veneration of all ages 
 since paid justly to their memories. 
 
 Miltiades 1 was one of the Athenian generals against the 
 Persian power, and the famous victory at Marathon was 
 chiefly owing to his valour and conduct. Being sent some 
 time after to reduce the Island of Paros, he mistook a great 
 fire at a distance for the fleet, and being no ways a match 
 for them, set sail for Athens : At his arrival he was impeached 
 by the Commons for treachery, though not able to appear by 
 reason of his wounds, fined 30,000 crowns, and died in 
 prison. Though the consequences of this proceeding upon 
 the affairs of Athens were no otherwise than by the untimely 
 loss of so great and good a man, yet I could not forbear 
 relating it. 
 
 1 Lord Orford seems to be presented under the character of Miltiades, 
 as well as under that of Themistocles ; as the cases of Pericles and 
 Alcibiades both apply to the character of Halifax. [S.] 
 I. R
 
 242 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 Their next great man was Aristides. 1 Beside the mighty 
 service he had done his country in the wars ; he was a person 
 of the strictest justice, and best acquainted with the laws as 
 well as forms of their government, so that he was in a manner 
 Chancellor of Athens. This man, upon a slight and false 
 accusation of favouring arbitrary power, was banished by 
 ostracism ; which, rendered into modern English, would signify, 
 that they voted he should be removed from their presence 
 and councils for ever. But they had soon the wit to recal 
 him, and to that action owed the preservation of their state 
 by his future services. For it must be still confessed in 
 behalf of the Athenian People, that they never conceived 
 themselves perfectly infallible, nor arrived to the heights of 
 modern assemblies, to make obstinacy confirm what sudden 
 heat and temerity began. They thought it not below the 
 dignity of an assembly to endeavour at correcting an ill step ; 
 at least to repent, though it often fell out too late. 
 
 Themistocles 2 was at first a Commoner himself. It was he 
 that raised the Athenians to their greatness at sea, which he 
 thought to be the true and constant interest of that Common- 
 wealth ; and the famous naval victory over the Persians at 
 Salamis was owing to his conduct. It seems the people 
 observed somewhat of haughtiness in his temper and be- 
 haviour, and therefore banished him for five years ; but 
 finding some slight matter of accusation against him, they 
 sent to seize his person, and he hardly escaped to the Persian 
 court ; from whence, if the love of his country had not 
 surmounted its base ingratitude to him, he had many 
 invitations to return at the head of the Persian fleet, and 
 take a terrible revenge ; but he rather chose a voluntary death. 
 
 The people of Athens impeached Pericles 3 for misapplying 
 the public revenues to his own private use. He had been a 
 person of great deservings from the Republic, was an admir- 
 able speaker, and very popular. His accounts were confused, 
 and he could not then give them up ; 4 therefore, merely to 
 
 1 Lord Somers. [Orrery.] 
 
 a Admiral Russell, created Earl of Orford. [Orrery.] 
 
 8 Under the fate of Pericles, and again under that of Alcibiades, Swift 
 points out circumstances parallel to the case of Halifax. [S.] 
 
 4 In Faulkner's edition (1735) this passage is given — "and he 
 wanted time to adjust them." [T. S.]
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 243 
 
 divert that difficulty, and the consequences of it, he was forced 
 to engage his country in the Peloponnesian war, the longest 
 that ever was known in Greece, and which ended in the 
 utter ruin of Athens. 
 
 The same people having resolved to subdue Sicily, sent a 
 mighty fleet under the command of Nicias, Lamachus, and 
 Alcibiades : the two former, persons of age and experience ; 
 the last, a young man of noble birth, excellent education, and 
 a plentiful fortune. A little before the fleet set sail, it seems, 
 one night, the stone-images of Mercury, placed in several 
 parts of the city, were all pared in the face : This action the 
 Athenians interpreted for a design of destroying the popular 
 state ; and Alcibiades, having been formerly noted for the like 
 frolics and excursions, was immediately accused of this, He, 
 whether conscious of his innocence, or assured of the 
 secrecy, offered to come to his trial before he went to 
 his command ; this the Athenians refused ; but as soon as 
 he was got to Sicily, they sent for him back, designing 
 to take the advantage, and prosecute him in the absence of 
 his friends, and of the army, where he was very powerful. 
 It seems, he understood the resentments of a popular 
 assembly too well to trust them ; and, therefore, instead of 
 returning, escaped to Sparta , where his desires of revenge 
 prevailing over his love to his country, he became its greatest 
 enemy. Meanwhile the Athenians, before Sicily, by the 
 death of one commander, and the superstition, weakness, 
 and perfect ill-conduct of the other, were utterly destroyed, 
 the whole fleet taken, and a miserable slaughter made of the 
 army, whereof hardly one ever returned. Some time after 
 this, Alcibiades was recalled upon his own conditions by the 
 necessities of the People ; and made chief commander at 
 sea and land ; but his lieutenant engaging against his 
 positive orders, and being beaten by Lysander, Alcibiades 
 was again disgraced and banished. However, the Athenians 
 having lost all strength and heart since their misfortune at 
 Sicily, and now deprived of the only person that was able to 
 recover their losses, repent of their rashness, and endeavour 
 in vain for his restoration ; the Persian lieutenant, to whose 
 protection he fled, making him a sacrifice to the resentments 
 of Lysander, the general of the Lacedemonians, who now 
 reduces all the dominions of the Athenians, takes the city, razes
 
 244 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 their walls, ruins their works, and changes the form of their 
 government ; which, though again restored for some time by 
 Thrasybulus, (as their walls were rebuilt by Conon,) yet here 
 we must date the fall of the Athenian greatness ; the domi- 
 nion and chief power in Greece from that period to the 
 time of Alexander the Great, which was about fifty years, 
 being divided between the Spartans and Thebans. Though 
 Philip, Alexander's father, (the most Christian king of that 
 age,) had indeed some time before begun to break in upon 
 the republic of Greece by conquest or bribery, particularly 
 dealing large money among some popular orators, by which 
 he brought many of them (as the term of art was then) to 
 Philippize. 
 
 In the time of Alexander and his captains, the Athenians 
 were offered an opportunity of recovering their liberty, and 
 being restored to their former state ; but the wise turn they 
 thought to give the matter, was by an impeachment and 
 sacrifice of the author to hinder the success. For, after the 
 destruction of Thebes by Alexander ; this prince designing 
 the conquest of Athens, was prevented by Phocion, 1 the 
 Athenian general, then ambassador from that state ; who, by 
 his great wisdom and skill at negotiations, diverted Alexander 
 from his design, and restored the Athenians to his favour. 
 The very same success he had with Antipater after Alexan- 
 der's death, at which time the government was new regulated 
 by Solon's laws : But Polyperchon, in hatred to Phocion, 
 having by order of the young king, (whose governor he was,) 
 restored those whom Phocion had banished, the plot suc- 
 ceeded ; Phocion was accused by popular orators, and put 
 to death. 
 
 Thus was the most powerful commonwealth of all Greece, 
 after great degeneracies from the institution of Solon, utterly 
 destroyed by that rash, jealous, and inconstant humour of 
 the People, which was never satisfied to see a general either 
 victorious or unfortunate ; such ill judges, as well as re- 
 warders, have Popular Assemblies been, of those who best 
 deserved from them. 
 
 Now, the circumstance which makes these examples of 
 more importance is, that this very power of the People in 
 
 1 William Bentinck, Earl of Portland. [Orrery.]
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 245 
 
 Athens, claimed so confidently for an inherent right, and in- 
 sisted on as the undoubted privilege of an Athenian born, 
 was the rankest encroachment imaginable, and the grossest 
 degeneracy from the form that Solon left them. In short, 
 their government was grown into a dominatio plebis, or 
 Tyranny of the People, who by degrees had broke and over- 
 threw the balance, which that legislator had very well fixed 
 and provided for. This appears not only from what has 
 been already said of that lawgiver ; but more manifestly from 
 a passage in Diodorus ; ' who tells us, that Antipater, one of 
 Alexander's captains, " abrogated the popular government (in 
 Athens) and restored the power of suffrages and magistracy 
 to such only as were worth two thousand drachmas ; by which 
 means, (says he,) that Republic came to be [again] administered 
 by the laws of Solon." By this quotation 'tis manifest that 
 this great author looked upon Solon's institution, and a 
 popular government, to be two different things. And as for 
 this restoration by Antipater, it had neither consequence nor 
 continuance worth observing. 
 
 I might easily produce many more examples, but these 
 are sufficient : and it may be worth the reader's time to re- 
 flect a little on the merits of the cause, as well as of the men, 
 who had been thus dealt with by their country. I shall 
 direct him no further than by repeating, that Aristides 2 was 
 the most renowned by the people themselves for his exact 
 justice and knowledge in the law. That Themistocles 3 was 
 a most fortunate admiral, and had got a mighty victory over 
 the great King of Persia's fleet ; that Pericles 4 was an able 
 minister of state, an excellent orator, and a man of letters ; 
 and, lastly, that Phocion, 5 besides the success of his arms, 
 was also renowned for his negotiations abroad, having in an 
 embassy brought the greatest monarch of the world at that 
 time to the terms of an honourable peace, by which his 
 country was preserved. 
 
 I shall conclude my remarks upon Athens with the 
 character given us of that People by Polybius. " About this 
 time, (says he,) the Athenians were governed by two men, 
 quite sunk in their affairs ; had little or no commerce with 
 
 1 Lib. 18. a Somers. * Orford. 
 
 * Halifax. * Portland.
 
 246 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 the rest of Greece, and were become great reverencers of 
 crowned heads." 
 
 For, from the time of Alexander's captains, till Greece 
 was subdued by the Romans, (to the latter part of which 
 this description of Polybius falls in,) Athens never produced 
 one famous man either for counsels or arms, or hardly for 
 learning. And, indeed, it was a dark insipid period through 
 all Greece : for except the Achaian league under Aratus 
 and Philopcemen, 1 and the endeavours of Agis and Cleomenes 
 to restore the state of Sparta, so frequently harassed by 
 tyrannies occasioned by the popular practices of the Ephori, 
 there was very little worth recording. All which conse- 
 quences may perhaps be justly imputed to this degeneracy 
 of Athens. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Of the Dissensions between the Patricians and Plebeians 
 in Rome, with the Consequences they had upon that State. 
 
 Having in the foregoing Chapter confined myself to the 
 proceedings of the Commons only, by the method of im- 
 peachments against particular persons, with the fatal effects 
 they had upon the state of Athens ; I shall now treat of the 
 dissensions at Rome, between the People and the collective 
 body of the Patricians or Nobles. It is a large subject, but 
 I shall draw it into as narrow a compass as I can. 
 
 As Greece, from the most ancient accounts we have of it, 
 was divided into several kingdoms, so was most part of 
 Italy 2 into several petty commonwealths. And as those 
 kings in Greece are said to have been deposed by their 
 People upon the score of their arbitrary proceedings ; so, on 
 the contrary, the commonwealths of Italy were all swallowed 
 up, and concluded in the tyranny of the Roman emperors. 
 However, the differences between those Grecian monarchies 
 and Italian Republics were not very great : for, by the 
 accounts Homer gives us of those Grecian princes who came 
 to the siege of Troy, as well as by several passages in the 
 
 1 Polyb. 2 Dionys. Halicar.
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 247 
 
 Odyssey ; it is manifest, that the power of these princes in 
 their several states was much of a size with that of the kings 
 in Sparta, the Archon at Athens, the Suffetes at Carthage, 
 and the Consuls in Rome : So that a limited and divided 
 power seems to have been the most ancient and inherent 
 principle of both those People in matters of government. 
 And such did that of Rome continue from the time of 
 Romulus, though with some interruptions, to Julius Csesar, 
 when it ended in the tyranny of a single person. During 
 which period (not many years longer than from the Norman 
 conquest to our age) the Commons were growing by degrees 
 into power and property, gaining ground upon the Patricians, 
 as it were, inch by inch, till at last they quite overturned the 
 balance, leaving all doors open to the practices of popular 
 and ambitious men, who destroyed the wisest republic, and 
 enslaved the noblest people that ever entered upon the stage 
 of the world. By what steps and degrees this was brought 
 to pass shall be the subject of my present enquiry. 
 
 While Rome was governed by kings, the monarchy was 
 altogether elective. Romulus himself, when he had built 
 the city, was declared king by the universal consent of the 
 People, and by augury, which was there understood for 
 Divine appointment. Among other divisions he made of 
 the People, one was into Patricians and Plebeians : the 
 former were like the Barons of England some time after the 
 conquest ; and the latter are also described to be almost 
 exactly what our Commons were then. For they were 
 dependents upon the Patricians, whom they chose for their 
 patrons and protectors, to answer for their appearance, and 
 defend them in any process : they also supplied their 
 patrons with money in exchange for their protection. This 
 custom of patronage, it seems, was very ancient, and long 
 practised among the Greeks. 
 
 Out of these Patricians Romulus chose a hundred to be a 
 Senate, or Grand Council, for advice and assistance to him 
 in the administration. The Senate, therefore, originally 
 consisted all of nobles, and were of themselves a standing 
 council, the People being only convoked upon such occasions, 
 as by this institution of Romulus fell into their cognizance : 
 Those were, to constitute magistrates, to give their votes for 
 making laws, and to advise upon entering on a war. But
 
 248 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 the two former of these popular privileges were to be con- 
 firmed by authority of the Senate ; and the last was only per- 
 mitted at the King's pleasure. This was the utmost extent 
 of power pretended to by the Commons in the time of Ro- 
 mulus ; all the rest being divided between the King and the 
 Senate, the whole agreeing very nearly with the constitution 
 of England for some centuries after the conquest. 
 
 After a year's interregnum from the death of Romulus, 
 the Senate of their own authority chose a successor, and a 
 stranger, merely upon the fame of his virtue, without asking 
 the consent of the Commons ; which custom they likewise 
 observed in the two following kings. But in the election of 
 Tarquinius Priscus, the fifth king, we first hear mentioned, 
 that it was done, populi impetrata venia ; which indeed was 
 but very reasonable for a free people to expect ; though I 
 cannot remember, in my little reading, by what incidents 
 they were brought to advance so great a step. However it 
 were, this prince, in gratitude to the People, by whose con- 
 sent he was chosen, elected a hundred Senators out of the 
 Commons, whose number, with former additions, was now 
 amounted to three hundred. 
 
 The People having once discovered their own strength, 
 did soon take occasion to exert it, and that by very great 
 degrees. 1 For at this king's death, (who was murdered by 
 the sons of a former,) being at a loss for a successor, Servius 
 Tullius, a stranger, and of mean extraction, was chosen pro- 
 tector of the kingdom by the People, without the consent of 
 the Senate ; at which the Nobles being displeased, he wholly 
 applied himself to gratify the Commons, and was by them 
 declared and confirmed no longer protector, but King. 
 
 This prince first introduced the custom of giving freedom 
 to servants, so as to become citizens of equal privileges with 
 the rest, which very much contributed to increase the power 
 of the People. 
 
 Thus in a very few years the Commons proceeded so far, 
 as to wrest even the power of choosing a king entirely out of the 
 hands of the Nobles ; which was so great a leap, and caused 
 such a convulsion and struggle in the state, that the consti- 
 
 1 Alluding to the great rebellion, and protectorship of Oliver Crom- 
 well. [S.] 
 
 I
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 249 
 
 tution could not bear it ; but civil dissensions arose, which 
 immediately were followed by the tyranny of a single person, 
 as this was by the utter subversion of the regal government, 
 and by a settlement upon a new foundation. For the Nobles, 
 spited at this indignity done them by the Commons, firmly 
 united in a body, deposed this prince by plain force, and 
 chose Tarquin the Proud, 1 who, running into all the forms 
 and methods of tyranny, after a cruel reign, was expelled by 
 a universal concurrence of Nobles and People, whom the 
 miseries of his reign had reconciled. 
 
 When the Consular government began, the balance of 
 power between the Nobles and Plebeians was fixed anew. 
 The two first Consuls were nominated by the Nobles, and 
 confirmed by the Commons ; and a law was enacted, That no 
 person should bear any magistracy in Rome, injussu populi ; 
 that is, without consent of the Commons. 
 
 In such turbulent times as these, many of the poorer 
 citizens had contracted numerous debts, either to the richer 
 sort among themselves, or to senators and other nobles : and 
 the case of debtors in Rome for the first four centuries 2 
 was, after the set time for payment, no choice but either 
 to pay or be the creditor's slave. In this juncture, the 
 Commons leave the city in mutiny and discontent, and will 
 not return but upon condition to be acquitted of all their 
 debts; and moreover, that certain magistrates be chosen 
 yearly ; whose business it shall be to defend the Commons 
 from injuries. These are called Tribunes of the People, 
 their persons are held sacred and inviolable, and the People 
 bind themselves by oath never to abrogate the office. By 
 these Tribunes, in process of time, the People were grossly 
 imposed on to serve the turns and occasions of revengeful or 
 ambitious men, and to commit such exorbitances, as could 
 not end but in the dissolution of the government. 
 
 These Tribunes, a year or two after their institution, kindled 
 great dissensions between the Nobles and the Commons on 
 the account of Coriolanus, a nobleman, whom the latter had 
 impeached, and the consequences of whose impeachment 
 (if I had not confined myself to Grecian examples for that 
 part of my subject) had like to have been so fatal to their 
 
 1 James II. [S.] 2 Ab urbe condita.
 
 2$0 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 state. And from this time, the Tribunes began a custom of 
 accusing to the People whatever noble they pleased, several 
 of whom were banished or put to death in every age. 
 
 At this time the Romans were very much engaged in wars 
 with their neighbouring states ; but upon the least intervals 
 of peace, the quarrels between the Nobles and the Plebeians 
 would revive ; and one of the most frequent subjects of their 
 differences was the conquered lands, which the Commons 
 would fain have divided among the public ; but the Senate 
 could not be brought to give their consent. 1 For, several of 
 the wisest among the Nobles began to apprehend the growing 
 power of the People; and therefore knowing what an accession 
 thereof would accrue to them by such an addition of property, 
 used all means to prevent it : for this the Appian family was 
 most noted, and thereupon most hated by the Commons. 
 One of them having made a speech against this division of 
 lands, was impeached by the People of high treason, and a 
 day appointed for his trial; but disdaining to make his 
 defence, chose rather the usual Roman remedy of killing 
 himself : after whose death the Commons prevailed, and the 
 lands were divided among them. 
 
 This point was no sooner gained, but new dissensions 
 began ; for the Plebeians would fain have a law enacted to 
 lay all men's rights and privileges upon the same level ; and to 
 enlarge the power of every magistrate within his own juris- 
 diction, as much as that of the Consuls. The Tribunes also 
 obtained to have their numbers doubled, which before was 
 five ; and the author tells us, that their insolence and power 
 increased with their number, and the seditions were also 
 doubled with it. 2 
 
 By the beginning of the fourth century from the building 
 of Rome, the Tribunes proceeded so far in the name of the 
 Commons, as to accuse and fine the. Consuls themselves, 
 who represented the kingly power. And the Senate ob- 
 serving, how in all contentions they were forced to yield to 
 the Tribunes and People, thought it their wisest course to 
 give way also to time : therefore a decree was made to send 
 ambassadors to Athens, and to the other Grecian common- 
 wealths planted in that part of Italy called Graecia Major, to 
 
 1 Allusion to the forfeited lands in Ireland. [S.] 
 
 2 Dionys. Halicar.
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 25 1 
 
 make a collection of the best laws ; out of which, and some 
 of their own, a new complete body of law was formed, after- 
 ward known by the name of the Laws of the Twelve Tables. 
 
 To digest these laws into order, ten men were chosen, and 
 the administration of all affairs left in their hands ; what use 
 they made of it has been already shown. It was certainly a 
 great revolution, produced entirely by the many unjust en- 
 croachments of the People ; and might have wholly changed 
 the fate of Rome, if the folly and vice of those, who were 
 chiefly concerned, could have suffered it to take root. 
 
 A few years after, the Commons made farther advances on 
 the power of the Nobles ; demanding among the rest, that the 
 Consulship, which hitherto had only been disposed to the 
 former, should now lie in common to the pretensions of any 
 Roman whatsoever. This, although it failed at present, yet 
 afterward obtained, and was a mighty step to the ruin of the 
 commonwealth. 
 
 What I have hitherto said of Rome has been chiefly col- 
 lected out of that exact and diligent writer Dionysius Hali- 
 camasseus; whose history (through the injury of time) reaches 
 no farther than to the beginning of the fourth century after the 
 building of Rome. The rest I shall supply from other 
 authors, though I do not think it necessary to deduce this 
 matter any farther so very particularly as I have hitherto 
 done. 
 
 To point at what time the balance of power was most 
 equally held between the Lords and Commons in Rome 
 would perhaps admit a controversy. Polybius tells us, 1 that 
 in the second Punic war the Carthaginians were declining, 
 because the balance was got too much on the side of the 
 People, whereas the Romans were in their greatest vigour by 
 the power remaining in the Senate; yet this was between 
 two and three hundred years after the period Dionysius ends 
 with ; in which time the Commons had made several farther 
 acquisitions. This, however, must be granted, that, (till 
 about the middle of the fourth century,) when the Senate 
 appeared resolute at any time upon exerting their authority, 
 and adhered closely together, they did often carry their point. 
 Besides, it is observed by the best authors, 2 that in all the 
 
 1 Fragm. lib. 6. 2 Dionys. Hal. Plutarch, &c.
 
 252 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 quarrels and tumults at Rome, from the expulsion of the 
 kings; though the People frequently proceeded to rude contu- 
 melious language, and sometimes so far as to pull and hale 
 one another about the forum ; yet no blood was ever drawn 
 in any popular commotions, till the time of the Gracchi. 
 However, I am of opinion, that the balance had begun many 
 years before to lean to the popular side. But this default was 
 corrected, partly by the principle just mentioned, of never 
 drawing blood in a tumult ; partly by the warlike genius of 
 the People, which in those ages was almost perpetually em- 
 ployed ; and partly by their great commanders, who, by the 
 credit they had in their armies, fell into the scales as a farther 
 counterpoise to the growing power of the People. Besides, 
 Polybius, who lived in the time of Scipio Africanus the 
 younger, had the same apprehensions of the continual en- 
 croachments made by the Commons ; and being a person of 
 as great abilities, and as much sagacity as any of his age ; from 
 observing the corruptions, which, he says, had already entered 
 into the Roman constitution, did very nearly foretel what 
 would be the issue of them. His words are very remarkable, 
 and with little addition may be rendered to this purpose i 1 
 " That those abuses and corruptions, which in time destroy 
 a government, are sown along with the very seeds of it, and 
 both grow up together ; and that as rust eats away iron, and 
 worms devour wood, and both are a sort of plagues born and 
 bred along with the substance they destroy ; so with every 
 form and scheme of government that man can invent, some 
 vice or corruption creeps in with the very institution, which 
 grows up along with, and at last destroys it." The same 
 author, 2 in another place, ventures so far as to guess at the 
 particular fate which would attend the Roman government. 
 He says, its ruin would arise from the popular tumults, which 
 would introduce a dominatio plebis, or Tyranny of the People ; 
 wherein it is certain he had reason ; and therefore might have 
 adventured to pursue his conjectures so far, as to the conse- 
 quences of a popular tyranny, which, as perpetual experience 
 teaches, never fails to be followed by the arbitrary govern- 
 ment of a single person. 
 
 About the middle of the fourth century from the building 
 
 i Lib. 5. 2 Fragm. lib. 6.
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 253 
 
 of Rome, it was declared lawful for nobles and plebeians to 
 intermarry ; which custom, among many other states, has 
 proved the most effectual means to ruin the former, and raise 
 the latter. 
 
 And now the greatest employments in the state were, one 
 after another, by laws forcibly enacted by the Commons, 
 made free to the People ; the Consulship itself, the office of 
 Censor, that of the Quaestors or Commissioners of the 
 Treasury, the office of Praetor or Chief Justice, the priest- 
 hood, and even that of Dictator. The Senate, after long 
 opposition, yielding, merely for present quiet, to the con- 
 tinual urging clamours of the Commons, and of the Tribunes 
 their advocates. A law was likewise enacted, that the ple- 
 biscite., or a Vote of the House of Commons, should be of 
 universal obligation ; nay, in time the method of enacting 
 laws was wholly inverted : for, whereas the Senate used of 
 old to confirm the plebiscita ; the People did at last, as they 
 pleased, confirm or disannul the senatusconsidta} 
 
 Appius Claudius brought in a custom of admitting to the 
 Senate the sons of freedmen, or of such who had once been 
 slaves ; by which, and succeeding alterations of the like 
 nature, that great council degenerated into a most corrupt 
 and factious body of men, divided against itself, and its 
 authority became despised. 
 
 The century and half following, to the end of the third 
 Punic war by the destruction of Carthage, was a very busy 
 period at Rome : the intervals between every war being so 
 short, that the Tribunes and People had hardly leisure or 
 breath to engage in domestic dissensions : however, the 
 little time they could spare was generally employed the same 
 way. So, Terentius Leo, a Tribune, is recorded to have 
 basely prostituted the privileges of a Roman citizen, in per- 
 fect spite to the Nobles. So, the great African Scipio and 
 his brother, after all their mighty services, were impeached 
 by an ungrateful Commons. 
 
 However, the warlike genius of the people, and continual 
 employment they had for it, served to divert this humour 
 from running into a head, till the age of the Gracchi. 
 
 These persons, entering the scene in thetime of a full peace, 
 
 1 Dionys. Hal. lib. ii.
 
 254 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 fell violently upon advancing the power of the People, by 
 reducing into practice all those encroachments which they 
 had been so many years gaining. There were at that time 
 certain conquered lands to be divided, besides a great private 
 estate left by a king. These, the Tribunes, by procurement 
 of the elder Gracchus, declared by their legislative authority, 
 were not to be disposed of by the Nobles, but by the 
 Commons only. The younger brother pursued the same 
 design ; and, besides, obtained a law, that all Italians should 
 vote at elections, as well as the citizens of Rome : in short, 
 the whole endeavours of them both perpetually turned upon 
 retrenching the Nobles' authority in all things, but especially 
 in the matter of judicature. And although they both lost 
 their lives in those pursuits, yet they traced out such ways as 
 were afterward followed by Marius, Sylla, Pompey, and Caesar, 
 to the ruin of the Roman freedom and greatness. 
 
 For in the time of Marius, Saturninus, a Tribune, procured 
 a law, that the Senate should be bound by oath to agree to 
 whatever the People would enact : and Marius, himself, 
 while he was in that office of Tribune, is recorded to have 
 with great industry used all endeavours for depressing the 
 Nobles, and raising the People ; particularly for cramping the 
 former in their power of judicature, which was their most 
 ancient inherent right. 
 
 Sylla, by the same measures, became absolute tyrant of 
 Rome ; he added three hundred Commons to the Senate, 
 which perplexed the power of the whole order, and rendered 
 it ineffectual ; then flinging off the mask, he abolished the 
 office of Tribune, as being only a scaffold to tyranny, whereof 
 he had no farther use. 
 
 As to Pompey and Caesar, Plutarch tells us, that their 
 union for pulling down the Nobles (by their credit with the 
 People) was the cause of the civil war, which ended in the 
 tyranny of the latter; both of them in their consulships 
 having used all endeavours and occasions for sinking the 
 authority of the Patricians, and giving way to all encroach- 
 ments of the People, wherein they expected best to find their 
 own account. 
 
 From this deduction of popular encroachments in Rome, 
 the reader will easily judge, how much the balance was fallen 
 upon that side. Indeed, by this time the very foundation
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 255 
 
 was removed, and it was a moral impossibility that the Re- 
 public could subsist any longer. For the Commons having 
 usurped the offices of state, and trampled on the Senate, 
 there was no government left but a dominatio plebis. Let us 
 therefore examine how they proceeded in this conjuncture. 
 
 I think it is an universal truth, that the People are much 
 more dexterous at pulling down and setting up, than at pre- 
 serving what is fixed ; and they are not fonder of seizing 
 more than their own, than they are of delivering it up again 
 to the worst bidder, with their own into the bargain. For, 
 although in their corrupt notions of divine worship, they are 
 apt to multiply their gods ; yet their earthly devotion is 
 seldom paid to above one idol at a time, of their own crea- 
 tion ; whose oar they pull with less murmuring, and much 
 more skill, than when they share the lading, or even hold the 
 helm. 
 
 The several provinces of the Roman empire were now 
 governed by the great men of their state; those upon the 
 frontiers, with powerful armies, either for conquest or de- 
 fence. These governors, upon any designs of revenge or 
 ambition, were sure to meet with a divided power at home, 
 and therefore bent all their thoughts and applications to close 
 in with the People, who were now by many degrees the 
 stronger party. Two of the greater spirits that Rome ever 
 produced happened to live at the same time, and to be 
 engaged in the same pursuit ; and this at a conjuncture the 
 most dangerous for such a contest. These were Pompey and 
 Caesar, two stars of such a magnitude, that their conjunction 
 was as likely to be fatal as their opposition. 
 
 The Tribunes and People, having now subdued all com- 
 petitors, began the last game of a prevalent populace, which 
 is that of choosing themselves a master ; while the Nobles 
 foresaw, and used all endeavours left them to prevent it. 
 The People at first made Pompey their admiral, with full 
 power over all the Mediterranean ; soon after Captain-General 
 of all the Roman forces, and governor of Asia. Pompey, on 
 the other side, restored the office of Tribune, which Sylla 
 had put down ; and in his Consulship procured a law for ex- 
 amining into the miscarriages of men in office or command 
 for twenty years past. Many other examples of Pompey's 
 popularity are left us on record, who was a perfect favourite
 
 256 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 of the People, and designed to be more ; but his preten- 
 sions grew stale for want of a timely opportunity of introduc- 
 ing them upon the stage. For Cassar, with his legions in 
 Gaul, was a perpetual check upon his designs ; and in the arts 
 of pleasing the People, did soon after get many lengths 
 beyond him. For he tells us himself, that the Senate, by a 
 bold effort, having made some severe decrees against his 
 proceedings, and against the Tribunes ; these all left the city, 
 and went over to his party, and consequently along with 
 them the affections and interests of the People ; which is 
 farther manifest from the accounts he gives us of the citizens 
 in several towns mutinying against their commanders, and 
 delivering both to his devotion. Besides, Caesar's public and 
 avowed pretensions for beginning the civil war were, to 
 restore the Tribunes and the People, oppressed (as he pre- 
 tended) by the Nobles. 
 
 This forced Pompey, against his inclinations, upon the 
 necessity of changing sides, for fear of being forsaken by 
 both ; and of closing in with the Senate and chief magistrates, 
 by whom he was chosen general against Cassar. 
 
 Thus at length the Senate (at least the primitive part of 
 them, the Nobles) under Pompey, and the Commons under 
 Caesar, came to a final decision of the long quarrels between 
 them. For, I think, the ambition of private men did by no 
 means begin or occasion this war ; though civil dissensions 
 never fail of introducing and spiriting the ambition of private 
 men ; who thus become indeed the great instruments for de- 
 ciding such quarrels, and at last are sure to seize on the 
 prize. But no man that sees a flock of vultures hovering 
 over two armies ready to engage, can justly charge the blood 
 drawn in the battle to them, though the carcases fall to their 
 share. For, while the balance of power is equally held, the 
 ambition of private men, whether orators or great com- 
 manders, gives neither danger nor fear, nor can possibly 
 enslave their country ; but that once broken, the divided 
 parties are forced to unite each to its head, under whose 
 conduct or fortune one side is at first victorious, and at last 
 both are slaves. And to put it past dispute, that this entire 
 subversion of the Roman liberty and constitution was altoge- 
 ther owing to those measures which had broke the balance 
 between the Patricians and Plebeians, whereof the ambition of
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 257 
 
 particular men was but an effect and consequence ; we need 
 only consider, that when the uncorrupted part of the Senate 
 had, by the death of Csesar, made one great effort to restore 
 the former state and liberty ; the success did not answer their 
 hopes ; but that whole assembly was so sunk in its autho- 
 rity, that those patriots were forced to fly, and give way to 
 the madness of the People ; who, by their own dispositions, 
 stirred up with the harangues of their orators, were now wholly 
 bent upon single and despotic slavery. Else, how could 
 such a profligate as Antony, or a boy of eighteen, like 
 Octavius, ever dare to dream of giving the law to such an 
 empire and People? Wherein the latter succeeded, and 
 entailed the vilest tyranny that Heaven, in its anger, ever in- 
 flicted on a corrupt and poisoned People. And this, with so 
 little appearance at Csesar's death, that when Cicero wrote to 
 Brutus, how he had prevailed by his credit with Octavius to 
 promise him (Brutus) pardon and security for his person ; 
 that great Roman received the notice with the utmost in- 
 dignity, and returned Cicero an answer, (yet upon record,) full 
 of the highest resentment and contempt for such an offer, and 
 from such a hand. 
 
 Here ended all show or shadow of liberty in Rome. 
 Here was the repository of all the wise contentions and 
 struggles for power between the Nobles and Commons, 
 lapped up safely in the bosom of a Nero and a Caligula, a 
 Tiberius and a Domitian. 
 
 Let us now see, from this deduction of particular impeach- 
 ments, and general dissensions in Greece and Rome, what 
 conclusions may naturally be formed for instruction of any 
 other state, that may haply upon many points labour under 
 the like circumstances. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Upon the subject of impeachments we may observe, that 
 the custom of accusing the Nobles to the People, either by 
 themselves, or their orators, (now styled An Impeachment 
 in the Name of the Commons,) has been very ancient both 
 in Greece and Rome, as well as Carthage; and therefore 
 i. s
 
 258 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 may seem to be the inherent right of a free People ; nay, 
 perhaps it is really so j but then it is to be considered, first, 
 that this custom was peculiar to republics, or such states 
 where the administration lay principally in the hands of the 
 Commons, and ever raged more or less, according to their 
 encroachments upon absolute power ; having been always 
 looked upon by the wisest men and best authors of those 
 times as an effect of licentiousness, and not of liberty; a 
 distinction, which no multitude, either represented or col- 
 lective, has been at any time very nice in observing. How- 
 ever, perhaps this custom in a popular state, of impeaching 
 particular men, may seem to be nothing else, but the People's 
 choosing upon occasion to exercise their own jurisdiction in 
 person; as if a king of England should sit as chief justice in 
 his court of King's Bench ; which, they say, in former times 
 he sometimes did. But in Sparta, which was called a kingly 
 government, though the People were perfectly free, yet 
 because the administration was in the two kings and the 
 Ephori, (with the assistance of the Senate,) we read of no im- 
 peachments by the People. Nor was the process against 
 great men, either upon account of ambition or ill conduct, 
 though it reached sometimes to kings themselves, ever 
 formed that way, as I can recollect, but only passed through 
 those hands where the administration lay. So likewise, 
 during the regal government in Rome, though it was instituted 
 a mixed monarchy, and the People made great advances in 
 power, yet I do not remember to have read of one impeach- 
 ment from the Commons against a patrician, until the 
 consular state began, and the People had made great en- 
 croachments upon the administration. 
 
 Another thing to be considered is, that, allowing this right 
 of impeachment to be as inherent as they please : yet, if the 
 Commons have been perpetually mistaken in the merits of 
 the causes and the persons, as well as in the consequences of 
 such impeachments upon the peace of the state ; we cannot 
 conclude less, than that the Commons in Greece and Rome 
 (whatever they may be in other states) were by no means 
 qualified, either as prosecutors or judges in such matters ; 
 and, therefore, that it would have been prudent to reserve 
 these privileges dormant, never to be produced but upon 
 very great and urging occasions, where the state is in apparent
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 259 
 
 danger, the universal body of the people in clamours against 
 the administration, and no other remedy in view. But for a 
 few popular orators or tribunes, upon the score of personal 
 piques ; or to employ the pride they conceive in seeing themselves 
 at the head of a party ; or as a method for advancement ; or 
 moved by certaifi powerful arguments that could make 
 Demosthenes philippize : for such men, I say, when the 
 state would of itself gladly be quiet, and hath, besides, affairs 
 of the last importance upon the anvil, to impeach Miltiades, 
 after a great naval victory, for not pursuing the Persian fleet ; 
 to impeach Aristides, the person most versed among them in 
 the knowledge and practice of their laws, for a blind suspicion 
 of his acting in an arbitrary way, {that is, as they expound it, 
 not in concert with the People); to impeach Pericles, after all 
 his services, for a few inconsiderable accounts; or to impeach 
 Phocion, who had been guilty of no other crime but negotiating 
 a treaty for the peace and security of his country : what could 
 the continuance of such proceedings end in, but the utter 
 discouragement of all virtuous actions and persons, and con- 
 sequently in the ruin of a state ? Therefore the historians of 
 those ages seldom fail to set this matter in all its lights ; 
 leaving us in the highest and most honourable ideas of those 
 persons, who suffered by the persecution of the People, 
 together with the fatal consequences they had, and how the 
 persecutors seldom failed to repent, when it was too late. 
 
 These impeachments perpetually falling upon many of the 
 best men both in Greece and Rome, are a cloud of witnesses, 
 and examples enough to discourage men of virtue and 
 abilities from engaging in the service of the public ; and help 
 on the other side to introduce the ambitious, the covetous, 
 the superficial, and the ill designing; who are as apt to be bold, 
 and forward, and meddling, as the former are to be cautious, 
 and modest, and reserved. This was so well known in 
 Greece, that an eagerness after employments in the state was 
 looked upon by wise men as the worst title a man could set 
 up ; and made Plato say ; " That if all men were as good as 
 they ought to be, the quarrel in a commonwealth would be, 
 not, as it is now, who should be ministers of state, but who 
 should not be so." And Socrates is introduced by Xenophon, 1 
 
 1 Lib. iii. Memorab.
 
 26o CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 severely chiding a friend of his for not entering into the 
 public service, when he was every way qualified for it. Such 
 a backwardness there was at that time among good men to 
 engage with a usurping People, and a set of pragmatical 
 ambitious orators. And Diodorus tells us, 1 that when the 
 petalism 2 was erected at Syracuse, in imitation of the 
 ostracism at Athens, it was so notoriously levelled against all 
 who had either birth or merit to recommend them, that who- 
 ever possessed either withdrew for fear, and would have no 
 concern in public affairs. So that the people themselves were 
 forced to abrogate it, for fear of bringing all things into con- 
 fusion. 
 
 There is one thing more to be observed, wherein all the 
 popular impeachments in Greece and Rome seem to have 
 agreed ; and that was, a notion they had of being concerned 
 in point of honour to condemn whatever person they im- 
 peached ; however frivolous the articles were upon which they 
 began, or however weak the surmises whereon they were to 
 proceed in their proofs. For, to conceive that the body of 
 the People could be mistaken, was an indignity not to be 
 imagined, till the consequences had convinced them, when it 
 was past remedy. And I look upon this as a fate to which 
 all popular accusations are subject ; although I should think 
 that the saying, Vox populi vox Dei, ought to be understood 
 of the universal bent and current of a People, not of the bare 
 majority of a few representatives ; which is often procured by 
 little arts, and great industry and application ; wherein those, 
 who engage in the pursuits of malice and revenge, are much 
 more sedulous than such as would prevent them. 
 
 From what has been deduced of the dissensions in Rome 
 between the two bodies of Patricians and Plebeians, several 
 reflections may be made. 
 
 First, That when the balance of power is duly fixed in a 
 state, nothing is more dangerous or unwise than to give way 
 to the first steps of popular encroachments, which is usually 
 done either in hopes of procuring ease and quiet from some 
 vexatious clamour, or else made merchandize, and merely 
 
 1 Lib. ii. 
 
 2 Popular votes of banishment by petalism were so called, because 
 the voters inscribed the name of the accused person on a leaf, as in the 
 ostracism it was marked on a shell. [S.]
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 261 
 
 bought and sold. This is breaking into a constitution to 
 serve a present expedient, or supply a present exigency : 
 the remedy of an empiric, to stifle the present pain, but 
 with certain prospect of sudden and terrible returns. When 
 a child grows easy and content by being humoured; and 
 when a lover becomes satisfied by small compliances, without 
 farther pursuits; then expect to find popular assemblies 
 content with small concessions. If there could one single 
 example be brought from the whole compass of history, of 
 any one popular assembly, who, after beginning to contend 
 for power, ever sat down quietly with a certain share ; or if 
 one instance could be produced of a popular assembly that 
 ever knew, or proposed, or declared what share of power was 
 their due ; then might there be some hopes that it were a 
 matter to be adjusted by reasonings, by conferences, or 
 debates : but since all that is manifestly otherwise, I see no 
 other course to be taken in a settled state, than a steady 
 constant resolution in those, to whom the rest of the balance 
 is entrusted, never to give way so far to popular clamours, as 
 to make the least breach in the constitution, through which 
 a million of abuses and encroachments will certainly in time 
 force their way. 
 
 Again, from this deduction it will not be difficult to gather 
 and assign certain marks of popular encroachments ; by 
 observing which, those who hold the balance in a state may 
 judge of the degrees, and, by early remedies and application, 
 put a stop to the fatal consequences that would otherwise 
 ensue. What those marks are has been at large deduced, 
 and need not be here repeated. 
 
 Another consequence is this, that (with all respect for 
 popular assemblies be it spoken) it is hard to recollect 
 one folly, infirmity, or vice, to which a single man is 
 subjected, and from which a body of commons, either 
 collective or represented, can be wholly exempt. For, beside 
 that they are composed of men with all their infirmities 
 about them, they have also the ill fortune to be generally led 
 and influenced by the very worst among themselves, I mean 
 popular orators, tribunes, or, as they are now styled, great 
 speakers, leading men, and the like. Whence it comes to 
 pass, that in their results we have sometimes found the same 
 spirit of cruelty and revenge, of malice an i pride, the same
 
 262 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 blindness and obstinacy and unsteadiness, the same un- 
 governable rage and anger, the same injustice, sophistry, and 
 fraud, that ever lodged in the breast of any individual. 
 
 Again, in all free states, the evil to be avoided is tyranny, 
 that is to say, the summa imperii, or unlimited power solely 
 in the hands of the One, the Few, or the Many. Now, we 
 have shown, that although most revolutions of government in 
 Greece and Rome began with the Tyranny of the People, yet 
 they generally concluded in that of a single person ; so that 
 a usurping populace is its own dupe, a mere underworker, 
 and a purchaser in trust for some single tyrant, whose state 
 and power they advance to their own ruin, with as blind an 
 instinct as those worms that die with weaving magnificent 
 habits for beings of a superior nature to their own. 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Some reflections upon the late public proceedings among 
 us, and that variety of factions into which we are still so 
 intricately engaged, gave occasion to this discourse. I am 
 not conscious, that I have forced one example, or put it into 
 any other light than it appeared to me long before I had 
 thought of producing it. 
 
 I cannot conclude, without adding some particular re- 
 marks upon the present posture of affairs and dispositions in 
 this kingdom. 
 
 The fate of empire is grown a common-place : that all 
 forms of government having been instituted by men, must be 
 mortal like their authors, and have their periods of duration 
 limited, as well as those of private persons. This is a truth 
 of vulgar knowledge and observation : but there are few who 
 turn their thoughts to examine how those diseases in a state 
 are bred, that hasten its end ; which would, however, be a 
 very useful inquiry. For, although we cannot prolong the 
 period of a commonwealth beyond the decree of Heaven, or 
 the date of its nature, any more than human life beyond the 
 strength of the seminal virtue, yet we may manage a sickly 
 constitution, and preserve a strong one ; we may watch and
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 263 
 
 prevent accidents ; we may turn off a great blow from with- 
 out, and purge away an ill humour that is lurking within : 
 and by these, and other such methods, render a state long- 
 lived, though not immortal. Yet some physicians have 
 thought, that if it were practicable to keep the several 
 humours of the body in an exact equal balance of each with 
 its opposite, it might be immortal, and so perhaps would a 
 political body, if the balance of power could be always held 
 exactly even. But, I doubt, this is as impossible in practice 
 as the other. 
 
 It has an appearance of fatality, and that the period of a 
 state approacheth, when a concurrence of many circumstances, 
 both within and without, unite toward its ruin ; while the 
 whole body of the People are either stupidly negligent, or else 
 giving in with all their might to those very practices that are 
 working their destruction. To see whole bodies of men 
 breaking a constitution by the very same errors that so many 
 have been broke before ; to observe opposite parties who 
 can agree in nothing else, yet firmly united in such measures 
 as must certainly ruin their country ; in short, to be en- 
 compassed with the greatest dangers from without, to be torn 
 by many virulent factions within ; then to be secure and 
 senseless under all this, and to make it the very least of our 
 concern ; these, and some others that might be named, appear 
 to me to be the most likely symptoms in a state of a sickness 
 unto death. 
 
 Quod procul a nobis flectat for tuna gubernans . 
 Et ratio pot ins, quam res persuadeat ipsa. 
 
 LUCRET. 
 
 There are some conjunctures, wherein the death or disso- 
 lution of government is more lamentable in its consequences, 
 than it would be in others. And, I think, a state can never 
 arrive to its period in a more deplorable crisis, than at a time 
 when some prince in the neighbourhood, of vast power and 
 ambition, lies hovering like a vulture to devour, or, at least, 
 dismember its dying carcase ; by which means it becomes 
 only a province or acquisition to some mighty monarchy, 
 without hopes of a resurrection. 
 
 1 know very well, there is a set of sanguine tempers, who 
 deride and ridicule, in the number of fopperies, all such ap-
 
 264 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 prehensions as these. They have it ready in their mouths, 
 that the people of England are of a genius and temper never 
 to admit slavery among them ; and they are furnished with 
 a great many common-places upon that subject. But it 
 seems to me, that such discoursers do reason upon short views, 
 and a very moderate compass of thought. For, I think it a 
 great error to count upon the genius of a nation as a standing 
 argument in all ages, since there is hardly a spot of ground 
 in Europe, where the inhabitants have not frequently and 
 entirely changed their temper and genius. Neither can I see 
 any reason, why the genius of a nation should be more fixed 
 in the point of government than in their morals, their learning, 
 their religion, their common humour and conversation, their 
 diet and their complexion ; which do all notoriously vary 
 almost in every age, and may every one of them have great 
 effects upon men's notions of government. 
 
 Since the Norman conquest, the balance of power in 
 England has often varied, and sometimes been wholly over- 
 turned. The part which the Commons had in it, that most 
 disputed point in its original, progress, and extent, was, by 
 their own confessions, but a very inconsiderable share. 
 Generally speaking, they have been gaining ever since, 
 although with frequent interruptions and slow progress. The 
 abolishing of villanage, together with the custom introduced 
 (or permitted) among the Nobles, of selling their lands in the 
 reign of Henry the Seventh, was a mighty addition to the 
 power of the Commons : yet I think a much greater happened 
 in the time of his successor, at the dissolution of the abbeys ; 
 for this turned the clergy wholly out of the scale, who had so 
 long filled it, and placed the Commons in their stead, who, in 
 a few years, became possessed of vast quantities of those and 
 other lands, by grant or purchase. About the middle of 
 Queen Elizabeth's reign, I take the power between the Nobles 
 and the Commons to have been in more equal balance, than 
 it was ever before or since. But then, or soon after, arose a 
 faction in England, which, under the name of Puritan, began 
 to grow popular, by moulding up their new schemes of re- 
 ligion with republican principles in government ; and, gaining 
 upon the prerogative as well as the Nobles, under several 
 denominations, for the space of about sixty years, did at last 
 overthrow the constitution, and, according to the usual course
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 265 
 
 of such revolutions, did introduce a Tyranny, first of the 
 People, and then of a single person. 
 
 In a short time after, the old government was revived. 
 But the progress of affairs for almost thirty years, under the 
 reigns of two weak princes, 1 is a subject of a different nature ; 
 when the balance was in danger to be overturned by the 
 hands that held it, which was at last very seasonably pre- 
 vented by the late revolution. However, as it is the talent 
 of human nature to run from one extreme to another, so in 
 a very few years we have made mighty leaps from prerogative 
 heights into the depth of popularity, and I doubt to the very 
 last degree that our constitution will bear. It were to be 
 wished, that the most august assembly of the Commons would 
 please to form a Pandect of their own power and privileges, 
 to be confirmed by the entire legislative authority, and that 
 in as solemn a manner (if they please) as the Magna Charta. 
 But to fix one foot of their compass wherever they think fit, 
 and extend the other to such terrible lengths, without de- 
 scribing any circumference at all, is to leave us and themselves 
 in a very uncertain state, and in a sort of rotation, that the 
 author of the Oceana 2 never dreamed on. I believe the most 
 hardy tribune will not venture to affirm at present, that any 
 just fears of encroachment are given us from the regal power, 
 or the Few : and is it then impossible to err on the other 
 side ? How far must we proceed, or where shall we stop ? 
 The raging of the sea, and the madness of the people, are 
 put together in Holy Writ ; and it is God alone who can say 
 to either, Hitherto shalt thou pass, and no farther. 
 
 The balance of power in a limited state is of such absolute 
 necessity, that Cromwell himself, before he had perfectly 
 confirmed his tyranny, having some occasions for the ap- 
 pearance of a parliament, was forced to create and erect an 
 entire new House of Lords (such as it was) for a counterpoise 
 to the Commons. And, indeed, considering the vileness of 
 
 1 Charles II. and James II. [H.] 
 
 2 Mr. James Harrington, who, in the time of the Commonwealth, 
 published an Utopian scheme of government, entitled, "The Common- 
 wealth of Oceana." Several speculative persons, and among others Mr. 
 Henry Neville, embraced his visions, and held a club called the Rota, 
 in Palace Yard, Westminster, to consider of means to make his plan 
 efficient. One article was that a part of the senate should go out by 
 rote, and become incapable of serving for a certain time. [S.]
 
 266 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 the clay, I have sometimes wondered, that no tribune of that 
 age durst ever venture to ask the potter, What dost thou 
 make? But it was then about the last act of a popular 
 usurpation ; and Fate, or Cromwell, had already prepared 
 them for that of a single person. 
 
 I have been often amazed at the rude, passionate, and mis- 
 taken results, which have at certain times fallen from great 
 assemblies, both ancient and modern, and of other countries 
 as well as our own. This gave me the opinion, I mentioned 
 a while ago, that public conventions are liable to all the in- 
 firmities, follies, and vices of private men. To which, if 
 there be any exception, it must be of such assemblies, who 
 act by universal concert, upon public principles, and for 
 public ends ; such as proceed upon debates without unbe- 
 coming warmths, or influence from particular leaders and 
 inflamers ; such, whose members, instead of canvassing to 
 procure majorities for their private opinions, are ready to 
 comply with general sober results, though contrary to their 
 own sentiments. Whatever assemblies act by these, and 
 other methods of the like nature, must be allowed to be 
 exempt from several imperfections, to which particular men 
 are subjected. But I think the source of most mistakes and 
 miscarriages in matters debated by public assemblies, ariseth 
 from the influence of private persons upon great numbers, 
 styled, in common phrase, leading men and parties. And, 
 therefore, when we sometimes meet a few words put toge- 
 ther, which is called the Vote or Resolution of an Assembly, 
 and which we cannot possibly reconcile to prudence, or pub- 
 lic good, it is most charitable to conjecture, that such a Vote 
 has been conceived, and born, and bred in a private brain ; 
 afterward raised and supported by an obsequious party ; and 
 then with usual methods confirmed by an artificial majority. 
 For, let us suppose five hundred men, mixed in point of 
 sense and honesty, as usually assemblies are; and let us 
 suppose these men proposing, debating, resolving, voting, 
 according to the mere natural motions of their own little or 
 much reason and understanding ; I do allow, that abundance 
 of indigested and abortive, many pernicious and foolish 
 overtures would arise, and float a few minutes ; but then 
 they would die and disappear. Because, this must be said 
 in behalf of human kind, that common sense and plain
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 267 
 
 reason, while men are disengaged from acquired opinions, 
 will ever have some general influence upon their minds ; 
 whereas the species of folly and vice are infinite, and so 
 different in every individual, that they could never procure a 
 majority, if other corruptions did not enter to pervert men's 
 understandings, and misguide their wills. 
 
 To describe how parties are bred in an assembly, would 
 be a work too difficult at present, and perhaps not altogether 
 safe. Periculoscz plenum opus alece. Whether those, who 
 are leaders, usually arrive at that station more by a sort of 
 instinct or secret composition of their nature, or influence of 
 the stars, than by the possession of any great abilities, may be a 
 point of much dispute; but when the leader is once fixed, there 
 will never fail to be followers. And man is so apt to imitate, so 
 much of the nature of sheep, (imitatores, servum pecus,) that 
 whoever is so bold to give the first great leap over the heads 
 of those about him, (though he be the worst of the flock,) 
 shall be quickly followed by the rest. Besides, when parties 
 are once formed, the stragglers look so ridiculous and be- 
 come so insignificant, that they have no other way but to 
 run into the herd, which at least will hide and protect them ; 
 and where to be much considered, requires only to be very 
 violent. 
 
 But there is one circumstance with relation to parties, 
 which I take to be, of all others, most pernicious in a state ; 
 and I would be glad any partizan would help me to a toler- 
 able reason, that because Clodius and Curio happen to agree 
 with me in a few singular notions, I must therefore blindly 
 follow them in all : or, to state it at best, that because 
 Bibulus the party-man is persuaded that Clodius and Curio 
 do really propose the good of their country as their chief end ; 
 therefore Bibulus shall be wholly guided and governed by 
 them in the means and measures towards it. Is it enough 
 for Bibulus, and the rest of the herd, to say, without further 
 examining, " I am of the side with Clodius, or I vote with 
 Curio " ? Are these proper methods to form and make up 
 what they think fit to call the united wisdom of the nation ? 
 Is it not possible, that upon some occasion Clodius may be 
 bold and insolent, borne away by his passion, malicious and 
 revengeful ? That Curio may be corrupt, and expose to sale 
 his tongue or his pen ? I conceive it far below the dignity,
 
 268 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS 
 
 both of human nature and human reason, to be engaged in 
 any party, the most plausible soever, upon such servile 
 conditions. 
 
 This influence of One upon Many, which seems to be as 
 great in a People represented, as it was of old in the Com- 
 mons collective, together with the consequences it has had 
 upon the legislature, has given me frequent occasion to reflect 
 upon what Diodorus tells us of one Charondas, a lawgiver to 
 the Sybarites, an ancient people of Italy, who was so averse 
 from all innovation, especially when it was to proceed from 
 particular persons : and, I suppose, that he might put it out 
 of the power of men fond of their own notions to disturb 
 the constitution at their pleasures, by advancing private 
 schemes ; that he provided a statute, that whoever proposed 
 any alteration to be made, should step out and do it with a 
 rope about his neck : if the matter proposed were generally 
 approved, then it should pass into a law ; if it went into the 
 negative, the proposer to be immediately hanged. Great 
 ministers may talk of what projects they please ; but I am de- 
 ceived if a more effectual one could ever be found for taking 
 off (as the present phrase is) those hot, unquiet spirits, who 
 disturb assemblies, and obstruct public affairs, by gratifying 
 their pride, their malice, their ambition, or their avarice. 
 
 Those who in a late reign began the distinction between 
 the personal and politic capacity, seem to have had reason, 
 if they judged of princes by themselves ; for, I think, there 
 is hardly to be found through all nature a greater difference 
 between two things, than there is between a representing 
 commoner in the function of his public calling, and the same 
 person when he acts in the common offices of life. Here he 
 allows himself to be upon a level with the rest of mortals ; 
 here he follows his own reason, and his own way , and rather 
 affects a singularity in his actions and thoughts, than servilely 
 to copy either from the wisest of his neighbours. In short, 
 here his folly and his wisdom, his reason and his passions, 
 are all of his own growth, not the echo or infusion of other 
 men. But when he is got near the walls of his assembly, he 
 assumes and affects an entire set of very different airs ; he 
 conceives himself a being of a superior nature to those with- 
 out, and acting in a sphere where the vulgar methods for the 
 conduct of human life can be ol no use. He is listed in a
 
 IN ATHENS AND ROME. 269 
 
 party where he neither knows the temper, nor designs, nor 
 perhaps the person, of his leadei ; but whose opinions he 
 follows and maintains with a zeal and faith as violent as a 
 young scholar does those of a philosopher whose sect he is 
 taught to profess. He has neither opinions, nor thoughts, 
 nor actions, nor talk, that he can call his own, but all con- 
 veyed to him by his leader, as wind is through an organ. 
 The nourishment he receives has been not only chewed, 
 but digested, before it comes into his mouth. Thus in- 
 structed, he follows the party, right or wrong, through all his 
 sentiments, and acquires a courage and stiffness of opinion 
 not at all congenial with him. 
 
 This encourages me to hope, that, during the present 
 lucid interval, the members retired to their homes may sus- 
 pend a while their acquired complexions, and, taught by the 
 calmness of the scene and the season, reassume the native 
 sedateness of their temper. If this should be so, it would 
 be wise in them, as individual and private mortals, to look 
 back a little upon the storms they have raised, as well as 
 those they have escaped : to reflect, that they have been 
 authors of a new and wonderful thing in England, which is, 
 for a House of Commons to lose the universal favour of the 
 numbers they represent : to observe how those whom they 
 thought fit to persecute for righteousness' sake have been 
 openly caressed by the people ; and to remember how them- 
 selves sate in fear of their persons from popular rage. Now, 
 if they would know the secret of all this unprecedented pro- 
 ceeding in their masters, they must not impute it to thei* - 
 freedom in debate, or declaring their opinions, but to that 
 unparliamentary abuse of setting individuals upon their 
 shoulders, who were hated by God and man. For it seems 
 the mass of the people, in such conjunctures as this, have 
 opened their eyes, and will not endure to be governed by 
 Clodius and Curio, at the head ot their myrmidons, though 
 these be ever so numerous, and composed of their own re- 
 presentatives. 
 
 This aversion of the people against the late proceedings of 
 the Commons is an accident, that, if it last a while, might be 
 improved to good uses for setting the balance of power a 
 little more upon an equality than their late measures seem 
 to promise or admit. This accident may be imputed to two
 
 270 CONTESTS AND DISSENSIONS, &C. 
 
 causes : the first is a universal fear and apprehension of the 
 greatness and power of France, whereof the people in general 
 seem to be very much and justly possessed, and, therefore, 
 cannot but resent to see it, in so critical a juncture, wholly 
 laid aside by their ministers, the Commons. The other 
 cause is a great love and sense of gratitude in the people to- 
 ward their present King, grounded upon a long opinion and 
 experience of his merit, as well as concessions to all their 
 reasonable desires; so that it is for some time they have 
 begun to say, and to fetch instances where he has in many 
 things been hardly used. How long these humours may 
 last, (for passions are momentary, and especially those of a 
 multitude,) or what consequences they may produce, a little 
 time will discover. But whenever it comes to pass that a 
 popular assembly, free from such obstructions, and already 
 possessed of more power than an equal balance will allow, 
 shall continue to think they have not enough, but by 
 cramping the hand that holds the balance, and by impeach- 
 ments or dissensions with the nobles, endeavour still for 
 more; I cannot possibly see, in the common course of things, 
 how the same causes can produce different effects and con- 
 sequences among us, from what they did in Greece and 
 Rome.
 
 THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS.
 
 These "Thoughts" were never issued in separate form, but were 
 included in the various volumes of "Miscellanies" issued during and 
 after Swift's lifetime. The "Miscellanies" of 1711 include those 
 usually stated to have been " written in 1706," and end with "Censure 
 is the tax a man pays to the public for being eminent." Other 
 " Miscellanies," published after 171 1, contain the further "Thoughts" 
 as far as those of 1726. These are also to be found in volume one 
 of Faulkner's edition (1735). The continuing "Thoughts " of 1726 are 
 from Hawkesworth's edition (1766) of Swift's works. See also notes on 
 p. 282 of present edition. [T. S.]
 
 THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS, 
 MORAL AND DIVERTING. 1 
 
 (OCTOBER, 1706.) 
 
 WE have just religion enough to make us hate, but not 
 enough to make us love one another. 
 
 Reflect on things past, as wars, negotiations, factions, &c. 
 We enter so little into those interests, that we wonder how 
 men could possibly be so busy and concerned for things so 
 transitory; look on the present times, we find the same 
 humour, yet wonder not at all. 
 
 A wise man endeavours, by considering all circumstances, 
 to make conjectures, and form conclusions ; but the smallest 
 accident intervening, (and in the course of affairs it is im- 
 possible to foresee all,) does often produce such turns and 
 changes, that at last he is just as much in doubt of events, as 
 the most ignorant and unexperienced person. 
 
 Positiveness is a good quality for preachers and orators, 
 because he that would obtrude his thoughts and reasons 
 upon a multitude, will convince others the more, as he 
 appears convinced himself. 
 
 How is it possible to expect that mankind will take advice, 
 when they will not so much as take warning ? 
 
 I forget whether advice be among the lost things, which 
 Ariosto says may be found in the moon ; that, and time, 
 ought to have been there. 
 
 No preacher is listened to but Time, which gives us the 
 
 1 These maxims were jotted down in consequence of a resolution 
 adopted by Swift and Pope, in conjunction, to mark down the loose 
 thoughts which occurred to them through the day, without attending to 
 any order or formality of expression. [S.] 
 I. T
 
 274 THOUGHTS ON 
 
 same train and turn of thought that elder people have in vain 
 tried to put into our heads before. 
 
 When we desire or solicit any thing, our minds run wholly 
 on the good side or circumstances of it ; when it is obtained, 
 our minds run wholly on the bad ones. 
 
 In a glass house, the workmen often fling in a small 
 quantity of fresh coals, which seems to disturb the fire, but 
 very much enlivens it. This may allude to a gentle stirring 
 of the passions, that the mind may not languish. 
 
 Religion seems to have grown an infant with age, and re- 
 quires miracles to nurse it, as it had in its infancy. 
 
 All fits of pleasure are balanced by an equal degree of 
 pain or languor ; 'tis like spending this year, part of the next 
 year's revenue. 
 
 The latter part of a wise man's life is taken up in curing 
 the follies, prejudices, and false opinions he had contracted 
 in the former. 
 
 Would a writer know how to behave himself with relation 
 to posterity, let him consider in old books what he finds that 
 he is glad to know, and what omissions he most laments. 
 
 Whatever the poets pretend, it is plain they give immor- 
 tality to none but themselves ; 'tis Homer and Virgil we re- 
 verence and admire, not Achilles or JEneas. With historians 
 it is quite the contrary ; our thoughts are taken up with the 
 actions, persons, and events we read, and we little regard the 
 authors. 
 
 When a true genius appears in the world, you may know 
 him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy 
 against him. 
 
 Men who possess all the advantages of life, are in a state 
 where there are many accidents to disorder and discompose, 
 but few to please them. 
 
 'Tis unwise to punish cowards with ignominy ; for if they 
 had regarded that, they would not have been cowards : 
 Death is their proper punishment, because they fear it 
 most. 
 
 The greatest inventions were produced in the times of 
 ignorance; as the use of the compass, gunpowder, and print- 
 ing ; and by the dullest nation, as the Germans. 
 
 One argument to prove that the common relations of 
 ghosts and spectres are generally false, may be drawn from
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 275 
 
 the opinion held, that spirits are never seen by more than 
 one person at a time ; that is to say, it seldom happens to 
 above one person in a company to be possessed with any 
 high degree of spleen or melancholy. 
 
 I am apt to think, that, in the day of judgment, there will 
 be small allowance given to the wise for their want of morals, 
 and to the ignorant for their want of faith, because both are 
 without excuse. This renders the advantages equal of 
 ignorance and knowledge. But some scruples in the wise, 
 and some vices in the ignorant, will perhaps be forgiven, upon 
 the strength of temptation to each. 
 
 The value of several circumstances in history, lessens very 
 much by distance of time, although some minute circum- 
 stances are very valuable ; and it requires great judgment in 
 a writer to distinguish. 
 
 'Tis grown a word of course for writers to say, This critical 
 age, as divines say, This sinful age. 
 
 'Tis pleasant to observe how free the present age is in lay- 
 ing taxes on the next. Future ages shall talk of this ; this 
 shall be famous to all posterity ; whereas their time and 
 thoughts will be taken up about present things, as ours are 
 now. 
 
 The chameleon, who is said to feed upon nothing but air, 
 has of all animals the nimblest tongue. 
 
 When a man is made a spiritual peer, he loses his surname ; 
 when a temporal, his Christian name. 
 
 It is in disputes, as in armies, where the weaker side sets 
 up false lights, and makes a great noise, to make the enemy 
 believe them more numerous and strong than they really 
 are. 1 
 
 Some men, under the notion of weeding out prejudices, 
 eradicate virtue, honesty, and religion. 
 
 In all well-instituted commonwealths, care has been taken 
 to limit men's possessions ; which is done for many reasons, 
 and, among the rest, for one which, perhaps, is not often 
 considered ; that when bounds are set to men's desires, 
 after they have acquired as much as the laws will permit 
 them, their private interest is at an end, and they have no- 
 thing to do but to take care of the public. 
 
 1 In Faulkner's edition (1735) this passage is— "that the enemy 
 may believe them to be more numerous," &c. [T. S.]
 
 276 THOUGHTS ON 
 
 There are but three ways for a man to revenge himself of 
 the censure of the world; 1 to despise it, to return the like, or to 
 endeavour to live so as to avoid it. The first of these is 
 usually pretended, the last is almost impossible, the universal 
 practice is for the second. 
 
 Herodotus tells us, that in cold countries beasts very 
 seldom have horns, but in hot they have very large ones. 
 This might bear a pleasant application. 
 
 I never heard a finer piece of satire against lawyers, than 
 that of astrologers, when they pretend, by rules of art, to tell 
 when a suit will end, and whether to the advantage of the 
 plaintiff or defendant ; thus making the matter depend 
 entirely upon the influence of the stars, without the least 
 regard to the merits of the cause. 
 
 The expression in Apocrypha about Tobit and his dog 
 following him, I have often heard ridiculed ; yet Homer has 
 the same words of Telemachus more than once ; and Virgil 
 says something like it of Evander. And I take the book of 
 Tobit to be partly poetical. 
 
 I have known some men possessed of good qualities 
 which were very serviceable to others, but useless to them- 
 selves ; like a sun-dial on the front of a house, to inform 
 the neighbours and passengers, but not the owner within. 
 
 If a man would register all his opinions upon love, politics, 
 religion, learning, &c, beginning from his youth, and so go on 
 to old age, what a bundle of inconsistencies and contradictions 
 would appear at last ! 
 
 What they do in heaven we are ignorant of ; what they do 
 not we are told expressly, that they neither marry, nor are 
 given in marriage. 
 
 When a man observes the choice of ladies now-a-days in 
 the dispensing of their favours, can he forbear paying some 
 veneration to the memory of those mares mentioned by 
 Xenophon, 2 who, while their manes were on, that is, while 
 they were in their beauty, would never admit the embraces 
 of an ass. 
 
 'Tis a miserable thing to live in suspense ; it is the life of 
 a spider. Vive quidem, pende tamen, imj>roba, dixit. 3 
 
 1 Faulkner's edition (1735) has it — " of a censorious world." [T.S.] 
 * De re equestri. 3 Ovid. Metam.
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 277 
 
 The stoical scheme of supplying our wants by lopping 
 off our desires, is like cutting off our feet, when we want 
 shoes. 
 
 Physicians ought not to give their judgment of religion, 
 for the same reason that butchers are not admitted to be 
 jurors upon life and death. 
 
 The reason why so few marriages are happy, is, because 
 young ladies spend their time in making nets, not in making 
 cages. 
 
 If a man will observe as he walks the streets, I believe 
 he will find the merriest countenances in mourning coaches. 
 
 Nothing more unqualifies a man to act with prudence, 
 than a misfortune that is attended with shame and guilt. 
 
 The power of fortune is confessed only by the miserable ; 
 for the happy impute all their success to prudence or merit. 
 
 Ambition often puts men upon doing the meanest offices; 
 so climbing is performed in the same posture with creeping. 
 
 Ill company is like a dog, who dirts those most whom he 
 loves best. 
 
 Censure is the tax a man pays to the public for being 
 eminent. 1 
 
 Although men are accused for not knowing their own 
 weakness, yet, perhaps, as few know their own strength. It 
 is in men as in soils, where sometimes there is a vein of gold, 
 which the owner knows not of. 
 
 Satire is reckoned the easiest of all wit ; but I take it to be 
 otherwise in very bad times : for it is as hard to satirize well 
 a man of distinguished vices, as to praise well a man of 
 distinguished virtues. It is easy enough to do either to 
 people of moderate characters. 
 
 Invention is the talent of youth, and judgment of age ; so 
 that our judgment grows harder to please, when we have 
 fewer things to offer it : this goes through the whole com- 
 merce of life. When we are old, our friends find it difficult 
 to please us, and are less concerned whether we be pleased 
 or no. 
 
 No wise man ever wished to be younger. 
 
 An idle reason lessens the weight of the good ones you 
 gave before. 
 
 1 These are all the " Thoughts" that appeared in the " Miscellanies " 
 printed in 171 1. [T. S.J
 
 278 THOUGHTS ON 
 
 The motives of the best actions will not bear too strict an 
 inquiry. It is allowed, that the cause of most actions, good 
 or bad, may be resolved into the love of ourselves ; but the 
 self-love of some men, inclines them to please others ; and the 
 self-love of others is wholly employed in pleasing themselves. 
 This makes the great distinction between virtue and vice. 
 Religion is the best motive of all actions, yet religion is 
 allowed to be the highest instance of self-love. 
 
 When the world has once begun to use us ill, it afterwards 
 continues the same treatment with less scruple or ceremony, 
 as men do to a whore. 
 
 Old men view best at distance with the eyes of their under- 
 standing, as well as with those of nature. 
 
 Some people take more care to hide their wisdom, than 
 their folly. 
 
 Arbitrary power is the natural object of temptation to a 
 prince, as wine or women to a young fellow, or a bribe to a 
 judge, or avarice to old age, or vanity to a female. 
 
 Anthony Henley's farmer dying of an asthma, said, " Well, 
 if I can get this breath once out, I'll take care it shall never 
 get in again." 
 
 The humour of exploding many things under the name of 
 trifles, fopperies, and only imaginary goods, is a very false 
 proof either of wisdom or magnanimity, and a great check 
 to virtuous actions. For instance, with regard to fame : there 
 is in most people a reluctance and unwillingness to be for- 
 gotten. We observe even among the vulgar, how fond they 
 are to have an inscription over their grave. It requires but 
 little philosophy to discover and observe that there is no 
 intrinsic value in all this ; however, if it be founded in 
 our nature, as an incitement to virtue, it ought not to be 
 ridiculed. 
 
 Complaint is the largest tribute Heaven receives, and the 
 sincerest part of our devotion. 
 
 The common fluency of speech in many men, and most 
 women, is owing to a scarcity of matter, and a scarcity of 
 words ; for whoever is a master of language, and has a mind 
 full of ideas, will be apt, in speaking, to hesitate upon the 
 choice of both ; whereas common speakers have only one 
 set of ideas, and one set of words to clothe them in ; and 
 these are always ready at the mouth ; so people come faster
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 2?9 
 
 out of a church when it is almost empty, than when a crowd 
 is at the door. 
 
 Few are qualified to shine in company ; but it is in most 
 men's power to be agreeable. The reason, therefore, why 
 conversation runs so low at present, is not the defect of 
 understanding, but pride, vanity, ill-nature, affectation, sin- 
 gularity, positiveness, or some other vice, the effect of a wrong 
 education. 
 
 To be vain, is rather a mark of humility than pride. Vain 
 men delight in telling what honours have been done them, 
 what great company they have kept, and the like, by which 
 they plainly confess that these honours were more than their 
 due, and such as their friends would not believe, if they had 
 not been told : whereas a man truly proud, thinks the 
 greatest honours below his merit, and consequently scorns to 
 boast. I therefore deliver it as a maxim, that whoever desires 
 the character of a proud man, ought to conceal his vanity. 
 
 Law, in a free country, is, or ought to be, the determina- 
 tion of the majority of those who have property in land. 
 
 One argument used to the disadvantage of Providence, I 
 take to be a very strong one in its defence. It is objected, 
 that storms and tempests, unfruitful seasons, serpents, spiders, 
 flies, and other noxious or troublesome animals, with many 
 other instances of the same kind, discover an imperfection in 
 nature, because human life would be much easier without 
 them ; but the design of Providence may clearly be perceived 
 in this proceeding. The motions of the sun and moon, in 
 short, the whole system of the universe, as far as philosophers 
 have been able to discover and observe, are in the utmost 
 degree of regularity and perfection ; but wherever God hath 
 left to man the power of interposing a remedy by thought or 
 labour, there he hath placed things in a state of imperfection, 
 on purpose to stir up human industry, without which life 
 would stagnate, or indeed rather could not subsist at all : 
 Curis acuuntur mortalia corda. 
 
 Praise is the daughter of present power. 
 
 How inconsistent is man with himself? 
 
 I have known several persons of great fame for wisdom in 
 public affairs and councils, governed by foolish servants. 
 
 I have known great ministers, distinguished for wit and 
 learning, who preferred none but dunces.
 
 280 THOUGHTS ON 
 
 I have known men of great valour, cowards to their wives. 
 
 I have known men of the greatest cunning, perpetually 
 cheated. 
 
 I knew three great ministers, who could exactly compute 
 and settle the accounts of a kingdom, but were wholly 
 ignorant of their own economy. 
 
 The preaching of divines helps to preserve well inclined 
 men in the course of virtue, but seldom or never reclaims the 
 vicious. 
 
 Princes usually make wiser choices than the servants whom 
 they trust for the disposal of places : I have known a prince, 
 more than once, choose an able minister : but I never ob- 
 served that minister to use his credit in the disposal of an 
 employment to a person whom he thought the fittest for it. 
 One of the greatest in this age 1 owned, and excused the 
 matter to me from the violence of parties, and the unreason- 
 ableness of friends. 
 
 Small causes are sufficient to make a man uneasy, when 
 great ones are not in the way : for want of a block he will 
 stumble at a straw. 
 
 Dignity, high station, or great riches, are in some sort 
 necessary to old men, in order to keep the younger at a 
 distance, who are otherwise too apt to insult them upon the 
 score of their age. 
 
 Every man desires to live long ; but no man would be old. 
 
 Love of flattery, in most men, proceeds from the mean 
 opinion they have of themselves ; in women, from the 
 contrary. 
 
 If books and laws continue to increase as they have done 
 for fifty years past, I am in concern for future ages, how any 
 man will be learned, or any man a lawyer. 
 
 Kings are commonly said to have long hands ; I wish they 
 had as long ears. 
 
 Princes in their infancy, childhood, and youth, are said to 
 discover prodigious parts and wit, to speak things that 
 surprise and astonish : strange, so many hopeful princes, 
 and so many shameful kings ! If they happen to die young, 
 they would have been prodigies of wisdom and virtue : if 
 they live, they are often prodigies indeed, but of another sort. 
 
 1 Harley. [S.]
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 28 1 
 
 Politics, as the word is commonly understood, are nothing 
 but corruptions, and consequently of no use to a good king, 
 or a good ministry : for which reason all courts are so over- 
 run 1 of politics. 
 
 Silenus, the foster-father of Bacchus, is always carried by 
 an ass, and has horns on his head. The moral is, that 
 drunkards are led by fools, and have a great chance to be 
 cuckolds. 
 
 Venus, a beautiful, good-natured lady, was the goddess of 
 love ; Juno, a terrible shrew, the goddess of marriage ; and 
 they were always mortal enemies. 
 
 Those who are against religion, must needs be fools ; and 
 therefore we read that of all animals, God refused the first- 
 born of an ass. 
 
 A very little wit is valued in a woman, as we are pleased 
 with a few words spoken plain by a parrot. 
 
 A nice man is a man of nasty ideas. 
 
 Apollo was held the god of physic, and sender of diseases. 
 Both were originally the same trade, and still continue. 
 
 Old men and comets have been reverenced for the same 
 reason ; their long beards, and pretences to foretell events. 
 
 I was asked at court, what I thought of an ambassador, 
 and his train ; who were all embroidery and lace ; full of 
 bows, cringes, and gestures ? I said, " it was Solomon's 
 importation — gold and apes." 2 
 
 There is a story in Pausanias of a plot for betraying a city 
 discovered by the braying of an ass : the cackling of geese 
 saved the Capitol, and Catiline's conspiracy was discovered 
 by a whore. These are the only three animals, as far as I 
 remember, famous in history for evidences and informers. 
 
 Most sorts of diversion in men, children, and other 
 animals, are an imitation of fighting. 
 
 Augustus meeting an ass with a lucky name, foretold 
 himself good fortune. I meet many asses, but none of them 
 have lucky names. 
 
 If a man makes me keep my distance, the comfort is, he 
 keeps his at the same time. 
 
 Who can deny that all men are violent lovers of truth, 
 
 1 Scott has "full." [T. S.] 
 
 2 Scott and Hawkesworth print this in the third person singular — "A 
 person was asked," &c. The text is as Faulkner prints it. [T. S.]
 
 282 THOUGHTS ON 
 
 when we see them so positive in their errors ; which they will 
 maintain out of their zeal to truth, although they contradict 
 themselves every day of their lives ? 
 
 That was excellently observed, say I, when I read a 
 passage in an author, where his opinion agrees with mine. 
 When we differ, there I pronounce him to be mistaken. 
 
 Very few men, properly speaking, live at present, but are 
 providing to live another time. 
 
 As universal a practice as lying is, and as easy a one as it 
 seems, I do not remember to have heard three good lies in 
 all my conversation, even from those who were most celebrated 
 in that faculty. 1 
 
 THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS 
 
 CONTINUED. 1726. 2 
 
 Laws penned with the utmost care and exactness, and in the 
 vulgar language, are often perverted to wrong meanings ; 
 then why should we wonder that the Bible is so ? 
 
 A man seeing a wasp creeping into a vial filled with honey, 
 that was hung on a fruit tree, said thus : " Why, thou sottish 
 animal, art thou mad to go into the vial, where you see many 
 hundred of your kind dying before you ? " — " The reproach 
 is just," answered the wasp, " but not from you men, who are 
 so far from taking example by other people's follies, that you 
 will not take warning by your own. If after falling several 
 times into this vial, and escaping by chance, I should fall in 
 again, I should then but resemble you." 
 
 An old miser kept a tame jackdaw, that used to steal 
 pieces of money and hide them in a hole ; which the cat 
 
 1 The "Thoughts" given in Faulkner's edition of 1735 end here. 
 These also are all that are given in volume iii. of Hawkesworth's 
 edition, 1766 (pp. 272-284). [T. S.] 
 
 2 From Hawkesworth's edit. 1766, vol. xii. (vol. xxii. of complete 
 edition), pp. 234-242. Hawkesworth suggests that these "Thoughts," 
 with the " Bons Mots de Stella," formed part of Sheridan's proposed 
 collections of " Contes a rire " and " Bon Mots." Swift referred to these 
 collections in a letter to Sheridan under date March 27, 1733 (Scott's 
 edit., 1824, vol. xviii., p. 100). [T. S.]
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS 283 
 
 observing, asked, "Why he would hoard up those round 
 shining things that he could make no use of?" — "Why," 
 said the jackdaw, " my master has a whole chest full, and 
 makes no more use of them than I." 
 
 Men are contented to be laughed at for their wit, but not 
 for their folly. 
 
 If the men of wit and genius would resolve never to com- 
 plain in their works of critics and detractors, the next age 
 would not know that they ever had any. 
 
 After all the maxims and systems of trade and commerce, a 
 stander-by would think the affairs of the world were most 
 ridiculously contrived. 
 
 There are few countries, which, if well cultivated, would 
 not support double the number of their inhabitants, and yet 
 fewer where one-third part of the people are not extremely 
 stinted even in the necessaries of life. I send out twenty 
 barrels of corn, which would maintain a family in bread for 
 a year, and I bring back in return a vessel of wine, which 
 half a dozen good fellows would drink in less than a month, 
 at the expense of their health and reason. 
 
 A motto for the Jesuits : 
 
 Qua regio in terris nostri non plena laboris ? 
 
 A man would have but few spectators, if he offered to shew 
 for threepence how he could thrust a redhot iron into a barrel 
 of gunpowder, and it should not take fire. 
 
 Query, Whether churches are not dormitories of the living 
 as well as of the dead ? 
 
 Harry Killegrew said to Lord Wharton, "You would 
 not swear at that rate, if you thought you were doing God 
 honour." 
 
 A copy of verses kept in the cabinet, and only shewn to a 
 few friends, is like a virgin much sought after and admired ; 
 but when printed and published, is like a common whore, 
 whom anybody may purchase for half-a-crown. 
 
 Lewis the XlVth of France spent his life in turning a good 
 name into a great. 
 
 Since the union of divinity and humanity is the great 
 article of our religion, it is odd to see some clergymen, 
 in their writings of divinity, wholly devoid of humanity.
 
 284 THOUGHTS ON 
 
 The Epicureans began to spread at Rome in the empire 
 of Augustus, as the Socinians, and even the Epicureans too, 
 did in England toward the end of King Charles the 
 Second's reign ; which is reckoned, though very absurdly, 
 our Augustan age. They both seem to be corruptions occa- 
 sioned by luxury and peace, and by politeness beginning to 
 decline. 
 
 Sometimes I read a book with pleasure, and detest the 
 author. 
 
 At a bookseller's shop some time ago I saw a book with 
 this title : " Poems by the author of The Choice." Not 
 enduring to read a dozen lines, I asked the company with me, 
 whether they had ever seen the book, or heard of the poem 
 whence the author denominated himself; they were all as 
 ignorant as I. But I find it common with these small dealers 
 in wit and learning, to give themselves a title from their first 
 adventure, as Don Quixote usually did from his last. This 
 arises from that great importance which every man supposes 
 himself to be of. 
 
 One Dennis, commonly called " the critic," who had writ a 
 threepenny pamphlet against the power of France, being in 
 the country, and hearing of a French privateer hovering 
 about the coast, although he were twenty miles from the sea, 
 fled to town, and told his friends, " they need not wonder at 
 his haste; for the King of France, having got intelligence 
 where he was, had sent a privateer on purpose to catch him." 
 
 Dr. Gee, prebendary of Westminster, who had writ a small 
 paper against Popery, being obliged to travel for his health, 
 affected to disguise his person, and change his name, as he 
 passed through Portugal, Spain, and Italy ; telling all the 
 English he met, "that he was afraid of being murdered, or 
 put into the Inquisition." He was acting the same farce at 
 Paris, till Mr. Prior (who was then secretary to the embassy) 
 quite disconcerted the doctor, by maliciously discovering the 
 secret; and offering to engage body for body, that not a 
 creature would hurt him, or had ever heard of him or his 
 pamphlet. 
 
 A chambermaid to a lady of my acquaintance, thirty miles 
 from London, had the very same turn of thought ; when 
 talking with one of her fellow-servants, she said, "I hear it is 
 all over London already that I am going to leave my lady : "
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS, 285 
 
 and so had a footman, who, being newly married, desired his 
 comrade to tell him freely what the town said of it. 
 
 When somebody was telling a certain great minister that 
 people were discontented. " Pho," said he, " half a dozen 
 fools are prating in a coffeehouse, and presently think their 
 own noise about their ears is made by the world." 
 
 The death of a private man is generally of so little 
 importance to the world, that it cannot be a thing of great 
 importance in itself; and yet I do not observe, from the 
 practice of mankind, that either philosophy or nature have 
 sufficiently armed us against the fears which attend it. 
 Neither do I find anything able to reconcile us to it, but 
 extreme pain, shame, or despair ; for poverty, imprisonment, 
 ill fortune, grief, sickness, and old age, do generally fail. 
 
 Whence comes the custom of bidding a woman look upon 
 her apron-strings to find an excuse ? Was it not from the 
 apron of fig-leaves worn by Eve, when she covered herself, 
 and was the first of her sex who made a bad excuse for 
 eating the forbidden fruit ? 
 
 I never wonder to see men wicked, but I often wonder to 
 see them not ashamed. 
 
 Do not we see how easily we pardon our own actions and 
 passions, and the very infirmities of our bodies ; why should 
 it be wonderful to find us pardon our own dulness ? 
 
 There is no vice or folly that requires so much nicety and 
 skill to manage, as vanity ; nor any which, by ill management, 
 makes so contemptible a figure. 
 
 Observation is an old man's memory. 
 
 Eloquence, smooth and cutting, is like a razor whetted 
 with oil. 
 
 Imaginary evils soon become real ones by indulging our 
 reflections on them ; as he, who in a melancholy fancy sees 
 something like a face on the wall or the wainscot, can, by two 
 or three touches with a lead pencil, make it look visible, and 
 agreeing with what he fancied. 
 
 Men of great parts are often unfortunate in the manage- 
 ment of public business, because they are apt to go out of 
 the common road by the quickness of their imagination. 
 This I once said to my Lord Bolingbroke, and desired he 
 would observe, that the clerks in his office used a sort 
 of ivory knife with a blunt edge to divide a sheet of paper,
 
 286 THOUGHTS ON 
 
 which never failed to cut it even, only requiring a steady hand: 
 whereas if they should make use of a sharp pen-knife, the 
 sharpness would make it go often out of the crease and dis- 
 figure the paper. 
 
 " He who does not provide for his own house," St. Paul 
 says, " is worse than an infidel." And I think, he who 
 provides only for his own house, is just equal with an 
 infidel. 
 
 Jealousy, like fire, may shrivel up horns, but it makes them 
 stink. 
 
 A footman's hat should fly off to everybody : and therefore 
 Mercury, who was Jupiter's footman, had wings fastened to 
 his cap. 
 
 When a man pretends love, but courts for money, he is 
 like a juggler, who conjures away your shilling, and conveys 
 something very indecent under the hat. 
 
 All panegyrics are mingled with an infusion of poppy. 
 
 I have known men happy enough at ridicule, who upon 
 grave subjects were perfectly stupid ; of which Dr. Echard of 
 Cambridge, who writ " The Contempt of the Clergy," was a 
 great instance. 
 
 One top of Parnassus was sacred to Bacchus, the other to 
 Apollo. 
 
 Matrimony has many children ; Repentance, Discord, 
 Poverty, Jealousy, Sickness, Spleen, Loathing, &c. 
 
 Vision is the art of seeing things invisible. 
 
 The two maxims of any great man at court are, always to 
 keep his countenance, and never to keep his word. 
 
 I asked a poor man how he did ? He said, he was like a 
 washball, always in decay. 
 
 Hippocrates, Aph. 32. Sect. 6, observes, that stuttering 
 people are always subject to a looseness. I wish physicians 
 had power to remove the profusion of words in many people 
 to the inferior parts. 
 
 A man dreamed he was a cuckold; a friend told him it was 
 a bad sign, because, when a dream is true, Virgil says it passes 
 through the horned gate. 
 
 Love is a flame, and therefore we say beauty is attractive; 
 because physicians observe that fire is a great drawer. 
 
 Civis, the most honourable name among the Romans ; a 
 citizen, a word of contempt among us.
 
 VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 287 
 
 A lady who had gallantries and several children, told her 
 husband he was like the austere man, who reaped where 
 he did not sow. 
 
 We read that an ass's head was sold for eighty pieces of 
 silver ; they have lately been sold ten thousand times dearer, 
 and yet they were never more plentiful. 
 
 I must complain the cards are ill shuffled, till I have a 
 good hand. 
 
 When I am reading a book, whether wise or silly, it seems 
 to me to be alive and talking to me. 
 
 Whoever live at a different end of the town from me, I look 
 upon as persons out of the world, and only myself and the 
 scene about me to be in it. 
 
 When I was young, I thought all the world, as well as my- 
 self, was wholly taken up in discoursing upon the last new 
 play. 
 
 My Lord Cromarty, after fourscore, went to his country 
 house in Scotland, with a resolution to stay six years there 
 and live thriftily, in order to save up money, that he might 
 spend in London. 
 
 It is said of the horses in the vision, that " their power was 
 in their mouths and in their tails." What is said of horses in 
 the vision, in reality may be said of women. 
 
 Elephants are always drawn smaller than life, but a flea 
 always larger. 
 
 When old folks tell us of many passages in their youth 
 between them and their company, we are apt to think how 
 much happier those times were than the present. 
 
 Why does the elder sister dance barefoot, when the 
 younger is married before her ? Is it not that she may 
 appear shorter, and consequently be thought younger than 
 the bride ? 
 
 No man will take counsel, but every man will take money : 
 therefore money is better than counsel. 
 
 I never yet knewawag, (as the term is,) who was not a dunce. 
 
 A person reading to me a dull poem of his own making, I 
 prevailed on him to scratch out six lines together ; in turn- 
 ing over the leaf, the ink being wet, it marked as many lines 
 on the other side ; whereof the poet complaining, I bid him 
 be easy, " for it would be better if those were out too." 
 
 At Windsor I was observing to my Lord Bolingbroke,
 
 288 THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. 
 
 " that the tower where the maids of honour lodged (who 
 at that time were very handsome) was much frequented 
 with crows." My lord said, "it was because they smelt 
 carrion." 
 

 
 A TRITICAL ESSAY 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 
 
 u
 
 TO 
 
 SIR, 
 
 JDEING so great a lover of antiquities, it was reasonable 
 J~J to suppose, you would be very much obliged with any- 
 thing that was new. I have been of late offended with many 
 writers of essays and moral discourses, for running into stale 
 topics and threadbare quotations, and not handling their sub- 
 ject fully and closely: all which errors I have carefully 
 avoided in the following essay, which I have proposed as a 
 pattern for young writers to imitate. The thoughts and obser- 
 vations being entirely new, the quotations untouched by others, 
 the subject of mighty importance, and treated with much order 
 and perspicuity : it has cost me a great deal of time ; and I 
 desire you will accept and consider it as the utmost effort of my 
 genius.
 
 A TRITICAL ESSAY 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 1 
 
 PHILOSOPHERS say, that man is a microcosm, or little 
 world, resembling in miniature every part of the great ; 
 and, in my opinion, the body natural may be compared to 
 the body politic ; and if this be so, how can the Epicurean's 
 opinion be true, that the universe was formed by a fortuitous 
 concourse of atoms, which I will no more believe, than that 
 the accidental jumbling of the letters in the alphabet, could 
 fall by chance into a most ingenious and learned treatise of 
 philosophy. Risum teneatis amid — Hor. This false opinion 
 must needs create many more ; 'tis like an error in the first 
 concoction, which cannot be corrected in the second ; the 
 foundation is weak, and whatever superstructure you raise 
 upon it, must, of necessity, fall to the ground. Thus, men 
 are led from one error to another, until, with Ixion, they 
 embrace a cloud instead of Juno, or, like the dog in the 
 fable, lose the substance in gaping at the shadow. For such 
 opinions cannot cohere ; but, like the iron and clay in the 
 toes of Nebuchadnezzar's image, must separate and break in 
 pieces. I have read in a certain author, that Alexander 
 wept because he had no more worlds to conquer ; which he 
 need not have done, if the fortuitous concourse of atoms 
 could create one ; but this is an opinion, fitter for that 
 many-headed beast, the vulgar, to entertain, than for so wise 
 a man as Epicurus ; the corrupt part of his sect only 
 
 1 This essay is a parody on the pseudo-philosophical essays of the 
 time, in which all sense was lost in the maze of inconsequential quota- 
 tions. It was written in 1707-8, and the "Miscellanies" of 1711 
 places its publication in August, 1707. [T. S.]
 
 292 A TRITICAL ESSAY UPON THE 
 
 borrowed his name, as the monkey did the cat's claw to draw 
 the chesnut out of the fire. 
 
 However, the first step to the cure, is to know the disease ; 
 and though truth may be difficult to find, because, as the 
 philosopher observes, she lives in the bottom of a well, yet 
 we need not, like blind men, grope in open daylight. I hope 
 I may be allowed, among so many far more learned men, to 
 offer my mite, since a stander-by may sometimes, perhaps, 
 see more of the game, than he that plays it. But I do not 
 think a philosopher obliged to account for every phenomenon 
 in nature, or drown himself with Aristotle, for not being able 
 to solve the ebbing and flowing of the tide, in that fatal 
 sentence he passed upon himself, Quia te non capio, tu capies 
 me. 
 
 Wherein he was at once the judge and the criminal, the 
 accuser and executioner. Socrates, on the other hand, who 
 said he knew nothing, was pronounced by the oracle to be 
 the wisest man in the world. 
 
 But to return from this digression. I think it as clear as 
 any demonstration in Euclid, that nature does nothing in 
 vain : if we were able to dive into her secret recesses, we 
 should find that the smallest blade of grass, or more con- 
 temptible weed, has its particular use ; but she is chiefly 
 admirable in her minutest compositions ; the least and most 
 contemptible insect most discovers the art of nature, if I may 
 so call it; though nature, which delights in variety, will 
 always triumph over art ; and as the poet observes, 
 
 Naluram expellas furcd licet, usque recurret. — Hor. 1 
 
 But the various opinions of philosophers have scattered 
 through the world as many plagues of the mind, as Pandora's 
 box did those of the body ; only with this difference, that 
 they have not left hope at the bottom. And if Truth be 
 not fled with Astrea, she is certainly as hidden as the source 
 of Nile, and can be found only in Utopia. Not that I 
 would reflect on those wise sages ; which would be a sort of 
 ingratitude ; and he that calls a man ungrateful, sums up all 
 the evil that a man can be guilty of. 
 
 Ingratum si dixeris, omnia diets. 
 
 1 Lib. I. Epist. X. 24.
 
 FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 293 
 
 But, what I blame the philosophers for, (though some 
 /nay think it a paradox,) is chiefly their pride ; nothing less 
 than an ipse dixit, and you must pin your faith on their 
 sleeve. And though Diogenes lived in a tub, there might 
 be, for aught I know, as much pride under his rags, as in 
 the fine-spun garments of the divine Plato. It is reported 
 of this Diogenes, that when Alexander came to see him, and 
 promised to give him whatever he would ask, the cynic only 
 answered ; " Take not from me what thou canst not give me, 
 but stand from between me and the light ; " which was 
 almost as extravagant as the philosopher, that flung his 
 money into the sea, with this remarkable saying 
 
 How different was this man from the usurer, who, being 
 told his son would spend all he had got, replied, " He can- 
 not take more pleasure in spending, than I did in getting it." 
 These men could see the faults of each other, but not their 
 own ; those they flung into the bag behind ; non videmus 
 id ?nanticce quod in tergo est. I may perhaps be censured 
 for my free opinions by those carping Momuses whom 
 authors worship, as the Indians do the devil, for fear. They 
 will endeavour to give my reputation as many wounds, as 
 the man in the almanack ; but I value it not ; and perhaps 
 like flies, they may buzz so often about the candle, till they 
 burn their wings. They must pardon me, if I venture to 
 give them this advice, not to rail at what they cannot under- 
 stand ; it does but discover that self-tormenting passion of 
 envy, than which the greatest tyrant never invented a more 
 cruel torment : 
 
 Invidid Siculi non invenere Tyranni 
 Tormentum majus — Juven. 1 
 
 I must be so bold to tell my critics and witlings, that they 
 are no more judges of this, than a man that is born blind 
 can have any true idea of colours. I have always observed, 
 that your empty vessels sound loudest : I value their lashes 
 as little as the sea did those of Xerxes, when he whipped it. 
 The utmost favour a man can expect from them is, that 
 
 1 This quotation is ascribed to Juvenal in Faulkner's edition (1735), 
 as well as in the " Miscellanies" of 171 1 and 1733, and Hawkesworth's 
 edition (1766) ; but Scott places it correctly to Horace, Lib. I. Epist. II. 
 58. [T. S.]
 
 294 A TRITICAL ESSAY UPON THE 
 
 which Polyphemus promised Ulysses, that he would devour 
 him the last : they think to subdue a writer, as Caesar did his 
 enemy, with a Vent, vidi, via. I confess I value the opinion 
 
 of the judicious few, a R r, 1 a D s, 2 or a W k ; 
 
 but for the rest, to give my judgment at once, I think the 
 long dispute among the philosophers about a vacuum, may 
 be determined in the affirmative, that it is to be found in a 
 critic's head. They are at best but the drones of the learned 
 world, who devour the honey, and will not work themselves : 
 and a writer need no more regard them, than the moon does 
 the barking of a little senseless cur. For, in spite of their 
 terrible roaring, you may, with half an eye, discover the ass 
 under the lion's skin. 
 
 But to return to our discourse : Demosthenes being asked 
 what was the first part of an orator, replied, Action : what 
 was the second, Action : what was the third, Action, and 
 so on, ad infinitum. This may be true in oratory ; but con- 
 templation in other things, exceeds action. And, therefore, 
 a wise man is never less alone, than when he is alone : 
 
 Nunquam minus solus, quam cum solus. 
 
 And Archimedes, the famous mathematician, was so in- 
 tent upon his problems, that he never minded the soldiers 
 who came to kill him. Therefore, not to detract from the just 
 praise which belongs to orators, they ought to consider, that 
 nature, which gave us two eyes to see, and two ears to hear, 
 has given us but one tongue to speak ; wherein, however, 
 some do so abound, that the virtuosi, who have been so long 
 in search for the perpetual motion, may infallibly find it 
 there. 
 
 Some men admire republics, because orators flourish 
 there most, and are the great enemies of tyranny ; but my 
 opinion is, that one tyrant is better than a hundred. Be- 
 
 1 Thomas Rymer (1638 or 9 — 17 13). Wrote an unsuccessful tragedy, 
 " Edgar," and " A View of the Tragedies of the Last Age." But is 
 noted for his edition of the " Fcedera," of which he published fifteen 
 volumes during his lifetime. [T. S.] 
 
 2 John Dennis, poet and critic (1657 — 1733-4). Wrote several dra- 
 matic pieces, including " Plot and no Plot " and " Liberty Asserted." 
 He was an excellent critic, if a poor poet. He became blind in his old 
 age and died in extreme poverty. [T. S.]
 
 FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 295 
 
 sides, these orators inflame the people, whose anger is really 
 but a short fit of madness. 
 
 Ira furor brevis est — Hor. 1 
 
 After which, laws are like cobwebs, which may catch small 
 flies, but let wasps and hornets break through. But in ora- 
 tory the greatest art is to hide art. 
 
 Art is est celare art em. 
 
 But this must be the work of time. We must lay hold on 
 all opportunities, and let slip no occasion, else we shall be 
 forced to weave Penelope's web, unravel in the night what 
 we spun in the day. And therefore I have observed, that 
 Time is painted with a lock before, and bald behind, signify- 
 ing thereby, that we must take time (as we say) by the fore- 
 lock, for when it is once past, there is no recalling it. 
 
 The mind of man is at first (if you will pardon the ex- 
 pression) like a tabula rasa, or like wax, which, while it is 
 soft, is capable of any impression, till time has hardened it. 
 And at length death, that grim tyrant, stops us in the midst 
 of our career. The greatest conquerors have at last been 
 conquered by death, which spares none, from the sceptre to 
 the spade. 
 
 Mors omnibus communis. 
 
 All rivers go to the sea, but none return from it. Xerxes 
 wept when he beheld his army, to consider that in less than 
 a hundred years they would be all dead. Anacreon was 
 choked with a grape-stone ; and violent joy kills as well as 
 violent grief. There is nothing in this world constant, but 
 inconstancy ; yet Plato thought, that if virtue would appear 
 to the world in her own native dress, all men would be 
 enamoured with her. But now, since interest governs the 
 world, and men neglect the golden mean, Jupiter himself, if 
 he came to the earth, would be despised, unless it were, as 
 he did to Danae, in a golden shower. For men now-a-days 
 worship the rising sun, and not the setting. 
 
 Donee erisfelix multos numerabis amicos. 
 
 1 Lib. I. Epist. II. 62,
 
 296 A TRITICAL ESSAY UPON THE FACULTIES, &C. 
 
 Thus have I, in obedience to your commands, ventured 
 to expose myself to censure, in this critical age. Whether I 
 have done right to my subject, must be left to the judgment 
 of my learned reader : however, I cannot but hope, that 
 my attempting of it may be encouragement for some able 
 pen to perform it with more success. 

 
 THE BICKERSTAFF PAMPHLETS.
 
 The almanack-makers of the seventeenth century called themselve Philo- 
 maths. In reality they were quacks trading on the credulity of a public 
 willing to pay for the information supplied. A particular "philomath," 
 named John Partridge, who was a cobbler by trade, had made himself 
 widely known by his works on astrology and as editor of the "Merlinus 
 Liberatus." Indeed, his fame was European. Swift, ever ready to ex- 
 pose any form of humbug, took an opportunity early in the February of 
 1708 to tackle this of the philomath. Writing over the name of Mr. 
 Isaac Bickerstaff, a name his eye had casually caught over the sign of a 
 locksmith's shop, Swift, in admirable disguise, issued his " Predic- 
 tions for the Year 1708." He assumes himself to be the only serious 
 student of science. Among many of the events prophesied was ' ' a 
 trifle," which he only mentioned " to show how ignorant those sottish 
 pretenders to astrology are in their own concerns." The "trifle" was 
 the death of Partridge himself. "I have consulted the star of his 
 nativity," solemnly remarks the astrologer Isaac, "by my own rules, 
 and find that he will infallibly die upon the 29th of March next, about 
 eleven at night, of a raging fever." 
 
 On the 30th of March promptly appeared "a letter to a person of 
 honour," detailing "the accomplishment of the first of Mr. BickerstafFs 
 predictions." John Partridge had died, but Mr. Bickerstaff had made 
 an error by four hours. The writer of the letter was, of course, Swift 
 himself ; and the town rose to the fun. Most people, who were not 
 " in the know," took Bickerstaff quite seriously, and the Portuguese 
 Inquisition even went so far as to order the burning of his pamphlet, no 
 doubt because of the serious matters foretold of continental affairs and 
 personages. The Stationers' Hall assumed Partridge to be really dead, 
 and struck his name from its rolls. Following on this came a pamphlet 
 entitled, " 'Squire Bickerstaff Detected ; or, the Astrological Impostor 
 Convicted. By John Partridge." This was the joint production of three 
 wits, the Reverend Thomas Yalden, Nicholas Rowe, and William Con- 
 greve. In the person of Partridge they carried on the fun excellently 
 well, repudiating Bickerstaff, and complaining bitterly of the many in- 
 conveniences his pamphlet had caused him. He cannot leave his house 
 without being dunned for his own funeral expenses. 
 
 Partridge himself was at last "drawn," and his almanack for 1709 
 contains an indignant protest against the sham astrologer Bickerstaff, 
 and a solemn assertion that he, John Partridge, was, blessed be God, 
 alive and in good health. 
 
 The " Almanack for 1709 " gave Swift the opportunity for a "Vin- 
 dication." Animadverting on the indecency of the language of the 
 "almanack for the present year," Bickerstaff appeals to the learned 
 world to justify him. With regard to Partridge's assertion about his being 
 still alive, he argues five excellent points in proof that he cannot be. 
 
 Swift, in 1709, wound up the fun with "A Famous Prediction of 
 Merlin," issued as a broadsheet with a pretended prophecy in black 
 letter. 
 
 Scott, in his edition, reprints " An Answer to Bickerstaff. By a 
 Person of Quality," but I cannot trace the authorship of it. Neither 
 Forster nor Craik makes any reference to it. Whoever the writer was, 
 he was keenly alive to the fun of the thing. It is certainly not by Swift. 
 
 [T. S.]
 
 PREDICTIONS 
 
 FOR THE 
 
 YEAR 1708. 
 
 Wherein the Month and Day of the 
 Month are fet down, the Perfons 
 named, and the great Actions and 
 Events of next Year particularly 
 related, as they will come to pafs. 
 
 Written to prevent the People of England from 
 being further imposd on by vulgar Almanack- 
 makers. 
 
 By ISAAC BICKERSTAFF Efq; 
 
 Sold by John Morphew near Stationers-Hall y 
 MDCCVIII
 
 /Tis said, that the Author, when he had writ the following 
 Paper, and being at a loss what name to prefix to it, pass- 
 ing through Long- Acre, observed a sign over a house where a 
 locksmith dwelt, and found the tiame Bickerstaff written under 
 it ; which being a name somewhat uncommon, he chose to call 
 himself Isaac Bickerstaff. This name was someti?ne aftei'ward 
 made use of by Sir Richard Steele, and Mr. Addison, in the 
 Tatlers ; in which Papers, as well as many of the Spectators, 
 it is well known, that the Author had a considerable part. 
 
 [Note by Faulkner in the Dublin edition of 1735. — T. S.]
 
 PREDICTIONS FOR THE YEAR 1708. 
 
 I HAVE long considered the gross abuse of astrology in 
 this kingdom, and upon debating the matter with myself, 
 I could not possibly lay the fault upon the art, but upon 
 those gross impostors, who set up to be the artists. I know 
 several learned men have contended, that the whole is a 
 cheat ; that it is absurd and ridiculous to imagine the stars 
 can have any influence at all upon human actions, thoughts, 
 or inclinations ; and whoever has not bent his studies that 
 way may be excused for thinking so, when he sees in how 
 wretched a manner that noble art is treated, by a few mean, 
 illiterate traders between us and the stars; who import a 
 yearly stock of nonsense, lies, folly, and impertinence, which 
 they offer to the world as genuine from the planets, though 
 they descend from no greater a height than their own 
 brains. 
 
 I intend, in a short time, to publish a large and rational 
 defence of this art, and therefore shall say no more in its 
 justification at present, than that it hath been in all ages 
 defended by many learned men, and among the rest by 
 Socrates himself, whom I look upon as undoubtedly the 
 wisest of uninspired mortals : to which if we add, that those 
 who have condemned this art, though otherwise learned, 
 having been such as either did not apply their studies this way, 
 or at least did not succeed in their applications : their testi- 
 mony will not be of much weight to its disadvantage, since 
 they are liable to the common objection of condemning what 
 they did not understand. 
 
 Nor am I at all offended, or think it an injury to the 
 art, when I see the common dealers in it, the Students in 
 astrology, the Philomaths, and the rest of that tribe, treated 
 by wise men with the utmost scorn and contempt ; but 
 rather wonder, when I observe gentlemen in the country,
 
 302 PREDICTIONS FOR 
 
 rich enough to serve the nation in Parliament, poring in 
 Partridge's Almanack, to find out the events of the year, at 
 home and abroad ; not daring to propose a hunting match, 
 till Gadbury l or he have fixed the weather. 
 
 I will allow either of the two I have mentioned, or any other 
 of the fraternity, to be not only astrologers, but conjurers too, 
 if I do not produce a hundred instances in all their 
 Almanacks, to convince any reasonable man, that they do 
 not so much as understand common grammar and syntax ; 
 that they are not able to spell any word out of the usual road, 
 nor, even in their prefaces, to write 2 common sense, or 
 intelligible English. Then, for their observations and pre- 
 dictions, they are such as will equally suit any age or country 
 in the world. "This month a certain great person will be 
 threatened with death or sickness." This the newspaper 
 will tell them, for there we find at the end of the year, that 
 no month passes without the death of some person of note ; 
 and it would be hard, if it should be otherwise, when there 
 are at least two thousand persons of note in this kingdom, 
 many of them old, and the Almanack-maker has the liberty 
 of choosing the sickliest season of the year, where he may fix 
 his prediction. Again, " This month an eminent clergyman 
 will be preferred ; " of which there may be some hundreds, 
 half of them with one foot in the grave. Then, " Such a 
 planet in such a house shews great machinations, plots, and 
 conspiracies, that may in time be brought to light : " after 
 which, if we hear of any discovery the astrologer gets the 
 honour ; if not, his prediction still stands good. And at 
 last, " God preserve King William from all his open and 
 secret enemies, Amen." When, if the king should happen to 
 have died, the astrologer plainly foretold it; otherwise it passes 
 but for the pious ejaculation of a loyal subject : though it 
 unluckily happened in some of their Almanacks, that poor 
 King William was prayed for many months after he was 
 dead, because it fell out, that he died about the beginning of 
 the year. 
 
 To mention no more of their impertinent predictions, what 
 
 1 John Gadbury was a tailor of Oxford who ran an almanack on 
 similar lines to that published by Partridge, and in rivalry of the 
 London shoemaker-philomath. [T. S.] 
 
 2 "In these Prefaces correct common Sense "in first edition. [T. S.] 

 
 THE YEAR 1708. 303 
 
 have we to do with their advertisements about "pills and 
 drinks for the venereal disease ? " or their mutual quarrels in 
 verse and prose of Whig and Tory, wherewith the stars have 
 little to do ? 
 
 Having long observed and lamented these, and a hundred 
 other abuses of this art too tedious to repeat, I resolved to 
 proceed in a new way, which I doubt not will be to the 
 general satisfaction of the kingdom : I can this year produce 
 but a specimen of what I design for the future; having 
 employed most part of my time, in adjusting and correcting 
 the calculations I made for some years past, because I would 
 offer nothing to the world, of which I am not as fully satisfied, 
 as that I am now alive. For these two last years I have not 
 failed in above one or two particulars, and those of no very 
 great moment. I exactly foretold the miscarriage at Toulon, ' 
 with all its particulars; and the loss of Admiral Shovel," 
 though I was mistaken as to the day, placing that accident 
 about thirty-six hours sooner than it happened ; but upon 
 reviewing my schemes, I quickly found the cause of that 
 error. I likewise foretold the battle at Almanza 3 to the very 
 day and hour, with the loss on both sides, and the con- 
 sequences thereof. All which I shewed to some friends 
 many months before they happened; that is, I gave them 
 papers sealed up, to open in such a time, after which they 
 were at liberty to read them ; and there they found my pre- 
 dictions true in every article, except one or two very minute. 
 
 As for the few following predictions I now offer the world, 
 I forebore to publish them, till I had perused the several 
 Almanacks for the year we are now entered on. I found 
 them all in the usual strain, and I beg the reader will compare 
 their manner with mine : and here I make bold to tell the 
 world, that I lay the whole credit of my art upon the truth of 
 these predictions ; and I will be content, that Partridge, and 
 the rest of his clan, may hoot me for a cheat and impostor, if 
 I fail in any single particular of moment. I believe, any man 
 who reads this paper, will look upon me to be at least a 
 
 1 The unsuccessful attempt on the part of Prince Eugene and the 
 Duke of Savoy, assisted by the English fleet under Sir Cloudesly Shovel, 
 to reduce Toulon in 1707. [T. S.] 
 
 2 Sir Cloudesly Shovel's fleet was wrecked Oct. 22, 1707. [S.] 
 8 Fought on April 25, 1707. [T. S.]
 
 304 PREDICTIONS FOR 
 
 person of as much honesty and understanding, as a common 
 maker of Almanacks. I do not !urk in the dark ; I am not 
 wholly unknown in the world ; I have set my name at length 
 to be a mark of infamy to mankind, if they shall find I 
 deceive them. 
 
 In one thing I must desire to be forgiven, that I talk more 
 sparingly of home affairs ; as it would be imprudence to 
 discover secrets of state, so it would be dangerous to my 
 person; but in smaller matters, and that are not of 
 public consequence, I shall be very free ; and the truth 
 of my conjectures will as much appear from these as the 
 other. As for the most signal events abroad in France, 
 Flanders, Italy, and Spain, I shall make no scruple to predict 
 them in plain terms : some of them are of importance, and 
 I hope I shall seldom mistake the day they will happen ; 
 therefore, I think good to inform the reader, that I all along 
 make use of the Old Style observed in England, which I 
 desire he will compare with that of the newspapers, at the 
 time they relate the actions I mention. 
 
 I must add one word more : I know it hath been the 
 opinion of several learned, who think well enough of the 
 true art of astrology, that the stars do only incline, and 
 not force, the actions or wills of men ; and therefore, how- 
 ever I may proceed by right rules, yet I cannot in prudence 
 so confidently assure the events will follow exactly as I pre- 
 dict them. 
 
 I hope I have maturely considered this objection, which in 
 some cases is of no little weight. For example : a man may, 
 by the influence of an over-ruling planet, be disposed or in- 
 clined to lust, rage, or avarice, and yet by the force of reason 
 overcome that bad influence ; and this was the case of 
 Socrates : but the great events of the world, usually depend- 
 ing upon numbers of men, it cannot be expected they should 
 all unite to cross their inclinations, from pursuing a general 
 design, wherein they unanimously agree. Besides, the in- 
 fluence of the stars reaches to many actions and events, 
 which are not any way in the power of reason ; as sickness, 
 death, and what we commonly call accidents, with many 
 more needless to repeat. 
 
 But now it is time to proceed to my predictions, which I 
 have begun to calculate from the time that the sun enters
 
 THE YEAR 1708. 305 
 
 into Aries. And this I take to be properly the beginning of 
 the natural year. I pursue them to the time that he enters 
 Libra, or somewhat more, which is the busy period of the 
 year. The remainder I have not yet adjusted, upon account 
 of several impediments needless here to mention : besides, 
 I must remind the reader again, that this is but a specimen 
 of what I design in succeeding years to treat more at large, 
 if I may have liberty and encouragement. 
 
 My first prediction is but a trifle, yet I will mention it, to 
 shew how ignorant these sottish pretenders to astrology are 
 in their own concerns : it relates to Partridge the Almanack- 
 maker ; I have consulted the star of his nativity by my own 
 rules, and find he will infallibly die upon the 29th of March 
 next, about eleven at night, of a raging fever ; therefore I 
 advise him to consider of it, and settle his affairs in time. 
 
 The month of April will be observable for the death of 
 many great persons. On the 4th will die the Cardinal de 
 Noailles, Archbishop of Paris: on the nth, the young 
 Prince of Asturias, son to the Duke of Anjou : on the 14th, 
 a great peer of this realm will die at his country-house : on 
 the 19th, an old layman of great fame for learning : and on 
 the 23d, an eminent goldsmith in Lombard-Street. I could 
 mention others, both at home and abroad, if I did not con- 
 sider it is of very little use or instruction to the reader, 
 or to the world. 
 
 As to public affairs: On the 7th of this month there 
 will be an insurrection in Dauphine, occasioned by the op- 
 pressions of the people, which will not be quieted in some 
 months. 
 
 On the 1 5th will be a violent storm on the south-east coast 
 of France, which will destroy many of their ships, and some 
 in the very harbour. 
 
 The 19th will be famous for the revolt of a whole province 
 or kingdom, excepting one city, by which the affairs of a 
 certain prince in the alliance will take a better face. 
 
 May, against common conjectures, will be no very busy 
 month in Europe, but very signal for the death of the 
 Dauphin, which will happen on the 7th, after a short sick- 
 ness, and grievous torments with the strangury. He dies 
 less lamented by the court than the kingdom. 
 
 On the 9th, a Mareschal of France will break his leg by a 
 
 1. x
 
 306 PREDICTIONS FOR 
 
 fall from his horse. I have not been able to discover whether 
 he will then die or not. 
 
 On the nth will begin a most important siege, which the 
 eyes of all Europe will be upon : I cannot be more par- 
 ticular : for, in relating affairs that so nearly concern the 
 confederates, and consequently this kingdom, I am forced 
 to confine myself, for several reasons very obvious to the 
 reader. 
 
 On the 15 th, news will arrive of a very surprising event, 
 than which, nothing could be more unexpected. 
 
 On the 19th, three noble ladies of this kingdom will, 
 against all expectation, prove with child, to the great joy of 
 their husbands. 
 
 On the 23d, a famous buffoon of the playhouse will die a 
 ridiculous death, suitable to his vocation. 
 
 June. This month will be distinguished at home by the 
 utter dispersing of those ridiculous deluded enthusiasts, com- 
 monly called the Prophets ; ' occasioned chiefly by seeing 
 the time come, that many of their prophecies should be 
 fulfilled, and then finding themselves deceived by contrary 
 events. It is indeed to be admired, how any deceiver can 
 be so weak to foretel things near at hand, when a very few 
 months must, of necessity, discover the imposture to all the 
 world ; in this point less prudent than common almanack- 
 makers, who are so wise to wander in general, and talk du- 
 biously, and leave to the reader the business of interpreting. 
 
 On the 1st of this month, a French General will be killed 
 by a random shot of a cannon-ball. 
 
 On the 6th, a fire will break out in the suburbs of Paris, 
 which will destroy above a thousand houses ; and seems to 
 
 1 The Protestants in Dauphine, called Casimars, mingled miracles 
 and prophecies with their religious fervour. Those who took refuge in 
 England attracted great attention under the title of the French prophets, 
 and were subject of much discussion, both from the press and pulpit. 
 In 1707-8, John Lacy, Esq... became a convert ; and, in the preface to a 
 work called "A Cry from the Desert," he confidently appeals to the 
 " subject matter and economy of four or five hundred prophetic 
 warnings, given under ecstacy in London." As impostors mingled 
 among the enthusiasts, the consequences began to assume rather an 
 alarming appearance. They undertook to raise a man from the dead, 
 and, having of course failed, were exposed to general ridicule, to which 
 a play, called " The Modern Prophets," written by Durfy, not a little 
 contributed. [S. amended.] 

 
 THE YEAR 1708. 307 
 
 be the foreboding of what will happen, to the surprise of all 
 Europe, about the end of the following month. 
 
 On the 10th, a great battle will be fought, which will begin 
 at four of the clock in the afternoon ; and last till nine at 
 night, with great obstinacy, but no very decisive event. I 
 shall not name the place, for the reasons aforesaid ; but the 
 commanders on each left wing will be killed. ... I see bon- 
 fires, and hear the noise of guns for a victory. 
 
 On the 14th, there will be a false report of the French 
 King's death. 
 
 On the 20th, Cardinal Portocarero will die of a dysentery, 
 with great suspicion of poison ; but the report of his inten- 
 tions to revolt to King Charles will prove false. 
 
 July. The 6th of this month, a certain General will, by 
 a glorious action, recover the reputation he lost by former 
 misfortunes. 
 
 On the 1 2th, a great commander will die a prisoner in the 
 hands of his enemies. 
 
 On the 14th, a shameful discovery will be made of a 
 French Jesuit, giving poison to a great foreign general ; and 
 when he is put to the torture, will make wonderful dis- 
 coveries. 
 
 In short, this will prove a month of great action, if I might 
 have liberty to relate the particulars. 
 
 At home, the death of an old famous senator will happen 
 on the 15th, at his country-house, worn out with age and 
 diseases. 
 
 But that which will make this month memorable to all 
 posterity, is the death of the French king, Louis the Four- 
 teenth, after a week's sickness, at Marli, which will happen 
 on the 29th, about six o'clock in the evening. It seems to 
 be an effect of the gout in his stomach, followed by a flux. 
 And, in three days after, Monsieur Chamillard will follow his 
 master, dying suddenly of an apoplexy. 
 
 In this month likewise an ambassador will die in London; 
 but I cannot assign the day. 
 
 August. The affairs of France will seem to suffer no 
 change for a while under the Duke of Burgundy's administra- 
 tion; but the genius that animated the whole machine being 
 gone, will be the cause of mighty turns and revolutions in the 
 following year. The new King makes yet little change
 
 308 PREDICTIONS FOR 
 
 either in the army or the ministry; but the libels against 
 his father, that fly about his very court, give him un- 
 easiness. 
 
 I see an express in mighty haste, with joy and wonder in 
 his looks, arriving by break of day on the 26th of this month, 
 having travelled in three days a prodigious journey by land 
 and sea. In the evening I hear bells and guns, and see the 
 blazing of a thousand bonfires. 
 
 A young admiral of noble birth does likewise this month 
 gain immortal honour by a great achievement. 
 
 The affairs of Poland are this month entirely settled : 
 Augustus resigns his pretensions, which he had again taken 
 up for some time : Stanislaus is peaceably possessed of the 
 throne ; and the King of Sweden declares for the Emperor. 
 
 I cannot omit one particular accident here at home ; that 
 near the end of this month much mischief will be done at 
 Bartholomew Fair, by the fall of a booth. 
 
 September. This month begins with a very surprising fit 
 of frosty weather, which will last near twelve days. 
 
 The Pope having long languished last month, the swell- 
 ings in his legs breaking, and the flesh mortifying, will die 
 on the nth instant; and in three weeks' time, after a 
 mighty contest, be succeeded by a Cardinal of the imperial 
 faction, but native of Tuscany, who is now about sixty-one 
 years old. 
 
 The French army acts now wholly on the defensive, 
 strongly fortified in their trenches ; and the young French 
 King sends overtures for a treaty of peace by the Duke of 
 Mantua ; which, because it is a matter of state that concerns 
 us here at home, I shall speak no farther of it. 
 
 I shall add but one prediction more, and that in mystical 
 terms, which shall be included in a verse out of Virgil — 
 
 Alter erit jam Tethys, et altera, qiuz vehat, Argo, 
 Delect os heroas. 
 
 Upon the 25th day of this month, the fulfilling of this 
 prediction will be manifest to everybody. 
 
 This is the farthest I have proceeded in my calculations 
 for the present year. I do not pretend that these are all the 
 great events which will happen in this period ; but that those 
 I have set down will infallibly come to pass. It will perhaps
 
 THE YEAR 1708. 309 
 
 still be objected, why I have not spoke more particularly of 
 affairs at home, or of the success of our armies abroad, 
 which I might, and could very largely have done : but 
 those in power have wisely discouraged men from meddling 
 in public concerns, and I was resolved by no means to give 
 the least offence. This I will venture to say, that it will be 
 a glorious campaign for the Allies, wherein the English 
 forces, both by sea and land, will have their full share of 
 honour : that Her Majesty Queen Anne will continue in 
 health and prosperity : and that no ill accident will arrive to 
 any in the chief ministry. 
 
 As to the particular events I have mentioned, the readers 
 may judge, by the fulfilling of them, whether I am of the 
 level with common astrologers ; who, with an old paltry cant, 
 and a few pot-hooks for planets to amuse the vulgar, have, 
 in my opinion, too long been suffered to abuse the world : 
 but an honest physician ought not to be despised, because 
 there are such things as mountebanks. I hope I have some 
 share of reputation, which I would not willingly forfeit for a 
 frolic or humour ; and I believe no gentleman who reads 
 this paper, will look upon it to be of the same last or mould 
 with the common scribbles that are every day hawked about. 
 My fortune has placed me above the little regard of writing 
 for a few pence, which I neither value or want : therefore, 
 let not wise men too hastily condemn this essay, intended 
 for a good design, to cultivate and improve an ancient 
 art, long in disgrace by having fallen into mean unskilful 
 hands. A little time will determine whether I have deceived 
 others or myself; and I think it no very unreasonable re- 
 quest, that men would please to suspend their judgments till 
 then. I was once of the opinion with those who despise all 
 predictions from the stars, till, in the year 1686, a man of 
 quality shewed me, written in his album? that the most 
 learned astronomer, Captain H[alley], assured him, he would 
 never believe anything of the stars' influence if there were 
 not a great revolution in England in the year 1688. Since 
 that time I began to have other thoughts, and after eighteen 
 
 1 Album is the name of a paper book, in which it was usual for a 
 man's friends to write down a sentence, with their names, to keep them 
 in his remembrance ; it is still common in some of the foreign univer- 
 sities. [S.]
 
 3IO PREDICTIONS FOR THE YEAR 1708. 
 
 years diligent study and application, I think I have no reason 
 to repent of my pains. I shall detain the reader no longer 
 than to let him know, that the account I design to give of 
 next year's events, shall take in the principal affairs that 
 happen in Europe ; and if I be denied the liberty of offer- 
 ing it to my own country, I shall appeal to the learned 
 world, by publishing it in Latin, and giving order to have it 
 printed in Holland.
 
 THE 
 
 ACCOMPLISHMENT 
 
 OF THE FIRST OF 
 
 MR. BICKERSTAFF'S PREDICTIONS, 
 
 BEING 
 
 AN ACCOUNT 
 
 OF THE DEATH OF 
 
 MR. PARTRIDGE, THE ALMANACK-MAKER, 
 
 UPON THE 29TH INSTANT, 
 
 IN A LETTER TO A PERSON OF HONOUR 
 [written in the year 1708.J

 
 THE 
 
 ACCOMPLISHMENT 
 
 OF THE FIRST OF 
 
 MR. BICKERSTAFF'S PREDICTIONS. 
 
 My Lord, 
 T N obedience to your Lordship's commands, as well as to 
 -!■ satisfy my own curiosity, I have some days past enquired 
 constantly after Partridge the almanack-maker, of whom it 
 was foretold in Mr. Bickers taff's Predictions, published about 
 a month ago, that he should die the 29th instant, about 
 eleven at night, of a raging fever. I had some sort of know- 
 ledge of him, when I was employed in the revenue, because 
 he used every year to present me with his almanack, as he 
 did other gentlemen, upon the score of some little gratuity 
 we gave him. I saw him accidentally once or twice, about 
 ten days before he died, and observed he began very much 
 to droop and languish, though, I hear, his friends did not 
 seem to apprehend him in any danger. About two or three 
 days ago he grew ill, was confined first to his chamber, and 
 in a few hours after to his bed ; where Dr. Case * and Mrs. 
 Kirleus 2 were sent for to visit and to prescribe to him. 
 
 1 John Case was many years a noted practitioner in physic and as- 
 trology. He was looked upon as the successor of Lilly and of Saffold, 
 and possessed the magical utensils of both. He erased the verses of 
 his predecessor from the sign-post, and substituted in their stead this 
 distich, by which he is said to have got more than Dryden did by all 
 his works, 
 
 " Within this place 
 
 Lives Doctor Case. " [S.] 
 
 2 Mary Kirleus, widow of John Kirleus, son of Dr. Thomas Kirleus, 
 a collegiate physician of London. [S.] 
 
 Both Case and Mary Kirleus were famous quacks in London at the 
 time Swift wrote. [T. S.]
 
 3 H AN ACCOUNT OF 
 
 Upon this intelligence I sent thrice every day one servant or 
 other to inquire after his health ; and yesterday about four in 
 the afternoon, word was brought me, that he was past hopes. 
 Upon which I prevailed with myself to go and see him, 
 partly out of commiseration, and, I confess, partly out of 
 curiosity. He knew me very well, seemed surprised at my 
 condescension, and made me compliments upon it, as well 
 as he could in the condition he was. The people about him 
 said he had been for some time delirious ; but when I saw 
 him he had his understanding as well as ever I knew, and 
 spoke strong and hearty, without any seeming uneasiness or 
 constraint. After I had told him I was sorry to see him in 
 those melancholy circumstances, and said some other civili- 
 ties suitable to the occasion, I desired him to tell me freely 
 and ingenuously, whether the predictions Mr. Bickerstaff had 
 published relating to his death, had not too much affected 
 and worked on his imagination. He confessed he had often 
 had it in his head, but never with much apprehension, till 
 about a fortnight before ; since which time it had the per- 
 petual possession of his mind and thoughts, and he did 
 verily believe was the true natural cause of his present dis- 
 temper : for, said he, " I am thoroughly persuaded, and I 
 think I have very good reasons, that Mr. Bickerstaff spoke 
 altogether by guess, and knew no more what will happen 
 this year than I did myself." I told him, his discourse sur- 
 prised me ; and I would be glad he were in a state of health 
 to be able to tell me what reason he had to be convinced of 
 Mr. Bickerstaff s ignorance. He replied, "I am a poor 
 ignorant fellow, bred to a mean trade, yet I have sense 
 enough to know, that all pretences of foretelling by astrology 
 are deceits, for this manifest reason : because the wise and 
 the learned, who can only judge whether there be any truth 
 in this science, do all unanimously agree to laugh at and 
 despise it ; and none but the poor ignorant vulgar give it 
 any credit, and that only upon the word of such silly wretches 
 as I and my fellows who can hardly write or read." I then 
 asked him, why he had not calculated his own nativity, to 
 see whether it agreed with Bickerstaff's prediction? At 
 which he shook his head, and said, " Oh ! sir this is no time 
 for jesting, but for repenting those fooleries, as I do now 
 from the very bottom of my heart." — "By what I can
 
 PARTRIDGE'S DEATH. 315 
 
 gather from you," said I, " the observations and predictions 
 you printed with your almanacks, were mere impositions on 
 the people." He replied, " If it were otherwise, I should 
 have the less to answer for. We have a common form for 
 all those things : as to foretelling the weather, we never 
 meddle with that, but leave it to the printer, who takes it 
 out of any old almanack, as he thinks fit : the rest was my 
 own invention, to make my almanack sell, having a wife to 
 maintain, and no other way to get my bread ; for mending 
 old shoes is a poor livelihood ; and," (added he, sighing,) "I 
 wish I may not have done more mischief by my physic, 
 than my astrology ; though I had some good receipts from 
 my grandmother, and my own compositions were such, as I 
 thought could at least do no hurt." 
 
 I had some other discourse with him, which I now cannot 
 call to mind ; and I fear have already tired your lordship. I 
 shall only add one circumstance, that on his death-bed he 
 declared himself a nonconformist, and had a fanatic preacher 
 to be his spiritual guide. After half an hour's conversation 
 I took my leave, being almost stifled with the closeness of 
 the room. I imagined he could not hold out long, and 
 therefore withdrew to a little coffeehouse hard by, leaving a 
 servant at the house with orders to come immediately and 
 tell me, as near as he could, the minute when Partridge 
 should expire, which was not above two hours after ; when 
 looking upon my watch, I found it to be above five minutes 
 after seven : by which it is clear that Mr. Bickerstaff was 
 mistaken almost four hours in his calculation. In the other 
 circumstances he was exact enough. But whether he hath 
 not been the cause of this poor man's death, as well as the pre- 
 dictor, may be very reasonably disputed. However, it must 
 be confessed, the matter is odd enough, whether we should 
 endeavour to account for it by chance, or the effect of ima- 
 gination : for my own part, though I believe no man 
 hath less faith in these matters, yet I shall wait with some 
 impatience, and not without some expectation, the fulfilling of 
 Mr. Bickerstaff 's second prediction, that the Cardinal de 
 Noailles is to die upon the fourth of April ; and if that 
 should be verified as exactly as this of poor Partridge, I must 
 own I should be wholly surprised, and at a loss, and infallibly 
 expect the accomplishment of all the rest.

 
 A 
 
 VINDICATION 
 
 F 
 
 Ifaac Bicker ft aff Efq; 
 
 AGAINST 
 
 What is Obie&ed to Him by 
 Mr. TartridgeJLtx his Almanack 
 for the prefent Year 1709* 
 
 Bj the faid ISbAC BICKERSTAFF £/fc 
 
 n-r t»j 
 
 LONDON.- 
 Printed in the Year MDCCIX*

 
 ft 
 VINDICATION 
 
 OF 
 
 ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ. 
 
 TV/f R. PARTRIDGE hath been lately pleased to treat me 
 -LV-*- after a very rough manner, in that which is called his 
 almanack for the present year : such usage is very indecent 
 from one gentleman to another, and does not at all contribute 
 to the discovery of truth, which ought to be the great end in 
 all disputes of the learned. To call a man fool and villain, 
 and impudent fellow, only for differing from him in a point 
 merely speculative, is, in my humble opinion, a very improper 
 style for a person of his education. I appeal to the learned 
 world, whether, in my last year's predictions, I gave him the 
 least provocation for such unworthy treatment. Philosophers 
 have differed in all ages, but the discreetest among them 
 have always differed as became philosophers. Scurrility and 
 passion, in a controversy among scholars, is just so much of 
 nothing to the purpose ; and at best a tacit confession of 
 a weak cause : my concern is not so much for my own 
 reputation, as that of the republic of letters, which Mr. 
 Partridge hath endeavoured to wound through my sides. If 
 men of public spirit must be superciliously treated for their 
 ingenious attempts, how will true useful knowledge be ever 
 advanced ? I wish Mr. Partridge knew the thoughts which 
 foreign universities have conceived of his ungenerous pro- 
 ceeding with me ; but I am too tender of his reputation to 
 publish them to the world. That spirit of envy and pride, 
 which blasts so many rising geniuses in our nation, is yet 
 unknown among professors abroad : the necessity of justify- 
 ing myself will excuse my vanity, when I tell the reader, that
 
 320 A VINDICATION OF 
 
 I have received near a hundred honorary letters from several 
 parts of Europe, (some as far as Muscovy,) in praise of my 
 performance. Beside several others, which, as I have been 
 credibly informed, were opened in the post office, and never 
 sent me. It is true, the inquisition in Portugal was pleased 
 to burn my predictions, 1 and condemn the author and the 
 readers of them : but I hope at the same time, it will be 
 considered, in how deplorable a state learning lies at present 
 in that kingdom : and with the profoundest veneration for 
 crowned heads, I will presume to add, that it a little 
 concerned his Majesty of Portugal to interpose his authority 
 in behalf of a scholar and a gentleman, the subject of a 
 nation with which he is now in so strict an alliance. But the 
 other kingdoms and states of Europe have treated me with 
 more candour and generosity. If I had leave to print the 
 Latin letters transmitted to me from foreign parts, they would 
 fill a volume, and be a full defence against all that Mr. 
 Partridge, or his accomplices of the Portugal inquisition, will 
 be ever able to object ; who, by the way, are the only 
 enemies my predictions have ever met with at home or 
 abroad. But I hope I know better what is due to the 
 honour of a learned correspondence, in so tender a point. 
 Yet some of those illustrious persons will perhaps excuse me, 
 for transcribing a passage or two in my vindication. 2 The 
 most learned Monsieur Leibnitz thus addresses to me his 
 third letter : — " Illustrissimo Bickerstaffio astrologies instaura- 
 tori" &c. Monsieur Le Clerc, quoting my predictions in a 
 treatise he published last year, is pleased to say, " Ita nu- 
 perrime Bickerstaffius, magnum Mud Anglian sidus." Another 
 great professor writing of me, has these words : " Bicker- 
 staffius, nobilis Anglus, astrologorum hujusce sozculi facile 
 princeps." Signior Magliabecchi, the Great Duke's famous 
 library-keeper, spends almost his whole letter in compliments 
 and praises. 'Tis true, the renowned professor of astronomy 
 at Utrecht seems to differ from me in one article; but it is 
 after the modest manner that becomes a philosopher ; as, 
 "pace tanti viri dixerim: " and, page 55, he seems to lay the 
 
 1 This is fact. [S.] 
 
 2 The quotations here inserted are in imitation of Dr. Bentley, in some 
 part of the famous controversy between him and Mr. Boyle. [S.]
 
 ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ. 321 
 
 error upon the printer, (as indeed it ought,) and says, "vel 
 forsan error typographic cum alioquin Bickerstaffius vir doc- 
 tissimus," &>c. 
 
 If Mr. Partridge had followed this example in the con- 
 troversy between us, he might have spared me the trouble of 
 justifying myself in so public a manner. I believe few men 
 are readier to own their errors than I, or more thankful to 
 those who will please to inform him of them. But, it seems, 
 this gentleman, instead of encouraging the progress of his 
 own art, is pleased to look upon all attempts of that kind as 
 an invasion of his province. He has been indeed so wise as 
 to make no objection against the truth of my predictions, 
 except in one single point relating to himself: and to demon- 
 strate how much men are blinded by their own partiality, I 
 do solemnly assure the reader, that he is the only person from 
 whom I ever heard that objection offered; which consideration 
 alone, I think, will take off all its weight. 
 
 With my utmost endeavours I have not been able to trace 
 above two objections ever made against the truth of my last 
 year's prophecies : the first was, of a Frenchman, who was 
 pleased to publish to the world, "that the Cardinal de 
 Noailles was still alive, notwithstanding the pretended pro- 
 phecy of Monsieur Biquerstaffe : " but how far a Frenchman, 
 a Papist, and an enemy, is to be believed in his own case, 
 against an English Protestant, who is true to the government, 
 I shall leave to the candid and impartial reader. 
 
 The other objection is the unhappy occasion of this 
 discourse, and relates to an article in my predictions, which 
 foretold the death of Mr. Partridge to happen on March 29, 
 1708. This he is pleased to contradict absolutely in the 
 almanack he has published for the present year, and in that 
 ungentlemanly manner (pardon the expression) as I have 
 above related. In that work he very roundly asserts, that he 
 "is not only now alive, but was likewise alive upon that 
 very 29th of March, when I had foretold he should die." 
 This is the subject of the present controversy between us ; 
 which I design to handle with all brevity, perspicuity, and 
 calmness : in this dispute, I am sensible the eyes, not only 
 of England, but of all Europe, will be upon us ; and the 
 learned in every country will, I doubt not, take part on that 
 side where they find most appearance of reason and truth. 
 
 1. v
 
 322 A VINDICATION OF 
 
 Without entering into criticisms of chronology about the 
 hour of his death, I shall only prove that Mr. Partridge is not 
 alive. And my first argument is thus: above a thousand 
 gentlemen having bought his almanacks for this year, merely 
 to find what he said against me, at every line they read, they 
 would lift up their eyes, and cry out, betwixt rage and 
 laughter, " they were sure no man alive ever writ such damned 
 stuff as this." Neither did I ever hear that opinion disputed ; 
 so that Mr. Partridge lies under a dilemma, either of disown- 
 ing his almanack, or allowing himself to be no man alive. 
 Secondly, Death is defined by all philosophers, a separation 
 of the soul and body. Now it is certain, that the poor 
 woman, who has best reason to know, has gone about for 
 some time to every alley in the neighbourhood, and sworn 
 to the gossips, that her husband had neither life nor soul in 
 him. Therefore, if an uninformed carcass walks still about, 
 and is pleased to call itself Partridge, Mr. Bickerstaff does 
 not think himself anyway answerable for that. Neither had 
 the said carcass any right to beat the poor boy, who happened 
 to pass by it in the street, crying, " A full and true account 
 of Dr. Partridge's death," &C. 1 
 
 Thirdly, Mr. Partridge pretends to tell fortunes, and 
 recover stolen goods ; which all the parish says, he must do 
 by conversing with the devil, and other evil spirits : and no 
 wise man will ever allow he could converse personally with 
 either till after he was dead. 1 
 
 Fourthly, I will plainly prove him to be dead, out of his 
 own almanack for this year, and from the very passage which 
 he produces to make us think him alive. He there says, " he 
 is not only now alive, but was also alive upon that very 29th 
 of March, which I foretold he should die on : " by this, he 
 declares his opinion, that a man may be alive now who was 
 not alive a twelvemonth ago. And, indeed, there lies the 
 sophistry of his argument. He dares not assert he was alive 
 ever since that 29th of March, but that he "is now alive, and 
 
 1 In the "Miscellanies" (1711), and in the editions published by 
 Faulkner and Hawkesworth, the passage beginning with " Death is 
 defined by all philosophers," and ending with " neither life nor soul in 
 him," is omitted. The paragraph here beginning " Thirdly " is in these 
 issues headed " Secondly," and so on. The reading in text is that of 
 the original edition, and this has been followed by Scott. [T. S.]
 
 ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ. 323 
 
 was so on that day : " I grant the latter ; for he did not die 
 till night, as appears by the printed account of his death, in a 
 letter to a lord ; and whether he be since revived, I leave the 
 world to judge. This indeed is perfect cavilling, and I am 
 ashamed to dwell any longer upon it. 
 
 Fifthly, I will appeal to Mr. Partridge himself, whether it 
 be probable I could have been so indiscreet, to begin my 
 predictions with the only falsehood that ever was pretended 
 to be in them ? and this in an affair at home, where I had so 
 many opportunities to be exact ; and must have given such 
 advantages against me to a person of Mr. Partridge's wit and 
 learning, who, if he could possibly have raised one single 
 objection more against the truth of my prophecies, would 
 hardly have spared me. 
 
 And here I must take occasion to reprove the above- 
 mentioned writer of the relation of Mr. Partridge's death, in 
 a Letter to a Lord ; who was pleased to tax me with a mistake 
 of four whole hours in my calculation of that event. I must 
 confess, this censure, pronounced with an air of certainty, in 
 a matter that so nearly concerned me, and by a grave, 
 judicious author, moved me not a little. But though I was 
 at that time out of town, yet several of my friends, whose 
 curiosity had led them to be exactly informed, (for as to 
 my own part, having no doubt at all in the matter, I never 
 once thought of it,) assured me, I computed to something 
 under half an hour j which (I speak my private opinion) is 
 an error of no very great magnitude, that men should raise a 
 clamour about it. I shall only say, it would not be amiss, if 
 that author would henceforth be more tender of other men's 
 reputation, as well as his own. It is well there were no more 
 mistakes of that kind ; if there had, I presume he would have 
 told me of them with as little ceremony. 
 
 There is one objection against Mr. Partridge's death, which 
 I have sometimes met with, though, indeed, very slightly 
 offered, that he still continues to write almanacks. But this 
 is no more than what is common to all of that profession ; 
 Gadbury, Poor Robin, Dove, Wing, and several others, do 
 yearly publish their almanacks, though several of them have 
 been dead since before the Revolution. Now, the natural 
 reason of this I take to be, that, whereas it is the privilege of 
 authors to live after their death, almanack-makers are alone
 
 324 A VINDICATION, &C. 
 
 excluded ; because their dissertations, treating only upon the 
 minutes as they pass, become useless as those go off. In 
 consideration of which, Time, whose registers they are, 
 gives them a lease in reversion, to continue their works after 
 death. Or, perhaps, a name can make an almanack as well 
 as it can sell one. And to strengthen this conjecture, I have 
 heard the booksellers affirm, that they have desired Mr. 
 Partridge to spare himself further trouble, and only lend 
 them his name, which could make Almanacks much better 
 than himself. 1 
 
 I should not have given the public, or myself, the trouble 
 of this vindication, if my name had not been made use of by 
 several persons to whom I never lent it; one of which, a few 
 days ago, was pleased to father on me a new set of predic- 
 tions. But I think these are things too serious to be trifled 
 with. It grieved me to the heart, when I saw my labours, 
 which had cost me so much thought and watching, bawled 
 about by the common hawkers of Grub-Street, which I only 
 intended for the weighty consideration of the gravest persons. 
 This prejudiced the world so much at first, that several of 
 my friends had the assurance to ask me whether I were in 
 jest ? to which I only answered coldly, " that the event would 
 shew." But it is the talent of our age and nation, to turn 
 things of the greatest importance into ridicule. When the 
 end of the year had verified all my predictions, out comes 
 Mr. Partridge's almanack, disputing the point of his death ; 
 so that I am employed, like the general who was forced 
 to kill his enemies twice over, whom a necromancer had 
 raised to life. If Mr. Partridge has practised the same ex- 
 periment upon himself, and be again alive, long may he con- 
 tinue so ; that does not the least contradict my veracity : but 
 I think I have clearly proved, by invincible demonstration, 
 that he died, at farthest, within half an hour of the time 
 I foretold, [and not four hours sooner, as the above-mentioned 
 author, in his letter to a lord, has maliciously suggested, with 
 a design to blast my credit, by charging me with so gross a 
 mistake.] 2 
 
 1 The passage beginning with " Or, perhaps," and ending with 
 " himself," is omitted by Scott. [T. S.J 
 
 2 The passage included in the square brackets is not in the first 
 edition, but Faulkner, Hawkesworth, and Scott give it, and Professor 
 Avber places it in square brackets also. [T. S.J
 
 A FAMOUS PREDICTION OF MERLIN, 
 THE BRITISH WIZARD. 
 
 WRITTEN ABOVE A THOUSAND YEARS AGO, AND RELATING TO 
 
 THE YEAR 1709. 
 
 WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES. By T. N. PHILOMATH. 
 
 [WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1709.]
 
 A 
 
 FAMOUS PREDICTION 
 
 OF 
 
 MERLIN. 
 
 LAST year was published a paper of Predictions, pre- 
 tended to be written by one Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.; but 
 the true design of it was to ridicule the art of astrology, and 
 expose its professors as ignorant or impostors. Against this 
 imputation Dr. Partridge has learnedly vindicated himself in 
 his almanack for that year. 
 
 For a farther vindication of this famous art, I have thought 
 fit to present the world with the following prophecy. The 
 original is said to be of the famous Merlin, who lived about 
 a thousand years ago ; and the following translation is two 
 hundred years old, for it seems to be written near the end of 
 Henry the Seventh's reign. I found it in an old edition of 
 Merlin's prophecies, imprinted at London by Johan Hau- 
 kyns, in the year 1530, page 39. I set it down word for 
 word in the old orthography, and shall take leave to subjoin 
 a few explanatory notes. 
 
 ifceben antt Cert abbgfc to nine, 
 <©t* jfxmntt W 212Uoe tfjts is tfje S>ngne, 
 STamns Ifttbm ttons pstro3en, 
 TOaffee sans toetnng j&fjoes m f&03en. 
 Cijen comgtf) toortfje, Ik!) unOerstonoe, 
 dFrom Cotone of jfctont to tattgn fLonfce, 
 an ijetoie <Ef)gt*tan t WRot ttje ffloxnt 
 STo ^Fraunce, ttjat eber be bias born. 
 Cfjen stall tf)e dFnsfje betoegie fjis SSosse; 
 Nor stall grin ISerrns mafce up tfje Hosse. 
 $onge Spmnele stall again miscarrge :
 
 328 merlin's prophecy. 
 
 &nfc Nortoaj)0 ^rgo again stall marrn. 
 &nto from tfje Cree tofjete SSlossums feele, 
 3&tpe dFrutt sfjall come, anti all is toele, 
 Keaums sfjall tiaunce $|ontre in ?$onoe, 
 anli it sfjall fie mettge in olti j^nglontoe, 
 STfjen olb SJnglonoe sfjall fie no more, 
 &nfi no man sfjall fie sotie therefore. 
 <©etgon sljall fjabe tfjree f^eoes agagne, 
 2Till g^apsfiutge mafcgtf) tfjem fiut ttoapne. 
 
 EXPLANATORY NOTES. 
 
 £>eben antt Cen. This line describes the year when 
 these events shall happen. Seven and ten make seventeen, 
 which I explain seventeen hundred, and this number added 
 to nine, makes the year we are now in ; for it must be 
 understood of the natural year, which begins the first of 
 January. 
 
 CamgS i^ibete ttogS, &c. The River Thames frozen 
 twice in one year, so as men to walk on it, is a very signal 
 accident, which perhaps hath not fallen out for several hun- 
 dred years before, and is the reason why some astrologers 
 have thought that this prophecy could never be fulfilled, 
 because they imagined such a thing would never happen in 
 our climate. 
 
 JFXQUX Coton Of i&tOffe, &c. This is a plain designation 
 of the Duke of Marlborough : one kind of stuff used to 
 fatten and is called marie, and everybody knows that borough 
 is a name for a town ; and this way of expression is after the 
 usual dark manner of old astrological predictions. 
 
 Cfjen Stjall ti)e dFgSfje, &c. By the fish is understood 
 the Dauphin of France, as their kings' eldest sons are called : 
 'tis here said, he shall lament the loss of the Duke of Bur- 
 gundy, called the Bosse, which is an old English word for 
 hump-shoulder, or crook-back, as that Duke is known to be; 
 and the prophecy seems to mean that he should be overcome 
 or slain. By the green berrys, in the next line, is meant the 
 young Duke of Berry, the Dauphin's third son, who shall not
 
 merlin's prophecy. 329 
 
 have valour or fortune enough to supply the loss of his eldest 
 brother. 
 
 $rjnge &gmnele, &c. By Symnele, is meant the pre- 
 tended Prince of Wales, who, if he offers to attempt anything 
 against England, shall miscarry, as he did before. Lambert 
 Symnele is the name of a young man, noted in our histories 
 for personating the son (as I remember) of Edward the 
 Fourth. 
 
 &1tti NottoagS 13t|rtr, &c. I cannot guess who is meant 
 by Norway's pride; 1 perhaps the reader may, as well as the 
 sense of the two following lines. 
 
 l&eautltS Sfjall, &c. Reaums, or, as the word is now, 
 realms, is the old name for kingdoms : and this is a very 
 plain prediction of our happy union, with the felicities that 
 shall attend it. It is added that Old England shall be no 
 more, and yet no man shall be sorry for it. And indeed, 
 properly speaking, England is now no more, for the whole 
 island is one kingdom, under the name of Britain. 
 
 <SletgOtt gfjall, &c. This prediction, though somewhat 
 obscure, is wonderfully adapt. Geryon is said to have been 
 a king of Spain, whom Hercules slew. It was a fiction of 
 the poets, that he had three heads, which the author says he 
 shall have again : that is, Spain shall have three kings, which 
 is now wonderfully verified ; for, beside the King of Portugal, 
 which properly is part of Spain, there are now two rivals for 
 Spain, Charles and Philip ; but Charles being descended from 
 the Count of Hapsburg, founder of the Austrian family, shall 
 soon make those heads but two, by overturning Philip, and 
 driving him out of Spain. 
 
 Some of these predictions are already fulfilled, and it is 
 highly probable the rest may be in due time ; and I think, I 
 have not forced the words, by my explication, into any other 
 sense, than what they will naturally bear. If this be granted, 
 I am sure it must be also allowed, that the author (whoever 
 he were) was a person of extraordinary sagacity ; and that 
 astrology, brought to such perfection as this, is by no means 
 an art to be despised, whatever Mr. Bickerstaff, or other 
 merry gentlemen, are pleased to think. As to the tradition 
 of these lines having been writ in the original by Merlin, I 
 
 1 Queen Anne. [H.]
 
 330 MERLIN'S PROPHECY. 
 
 confess I lay not much weight upon it ; but it is enough to 
 justify their authority, that the book whence I have tran- 
 scribed them, was printed 170 years ago, as appears by the 
 title-page. For the satisfaction of any gentleman, who may be 
 either doubtful of the truth, or curious to be informed; I 
 shall give order to have the very book sent to the printer of 
 this paper, with directions to let anybody see it that pleases, 
 because I believe it is pretty scarce. 

 
 MEDITATION 
 
 U P O N A 
 
 Broom—Stick, 
 
 AND 
 
 Somewhat Bejide\ 
 
 O F 
 
 The Same AUTHO R's. 
 
 Utile dulci. 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 Printed for E. Curll at the Dial and Bible 
 againft St. Dunjlan's Church in Fleet- 
 jlreet, 1710. 
 
 (Price 2d.)
 
 The circumstance which occasioned the composition of this famous 
 parody is racily told by Mr. Thomas Sheridan. I cannot do better than 
 quote his account. The parody itself was written in the year 1704. 
 
 " In the yearly visits which Swift made to London, during his stay 
 there he passed much of his time at Lord Berkeley's, officiating as 
 chaplain to the family, and attending Lady Berkeley in her private de- 
 votions ; after which the doctor, by her desire, used to read to her some 
 moral or religious discourse. The Countess had at this time taken a 
 great liking to Mr. Boyle's Meditations, and was determined to go 
 through them in that manner : but as Swift had by no means the same 
 relish for that kind of writing which her ladyship had, he soon grew 
 weary of the task ; and a whim coming into his head, resolved to get rid 
 of it in a way which might occasion some sport in the family ; for which 
 they had as high a relish as himself. The next time he was employed 
 in reading one of these Meditations, he took an opportunity of convey- 
 ing away the book, and dexterously inserted a leaf, on which he had 
 written his own Meditation on a Broomstick ; after which he took care 
 to have the book restored to its proper place, and in his next attendance 
 on my lady, when he was desired to proceed to the next Meditation, 
 Swift opened upon the place where the leaf had been inserted, and with 
 great composure read the title, ' A Meditation on a Broomstick.' Lady 
 Berkeley, a little surprised at the oddity of the title, stopped him, re- 
 peating the words, ' A Meditation on a Broomstick ! What a strange 
 subject ! But there is no knowing what useful lessons of instruction 
 this wonderful man may draw from things apparently the most trivial. 
 Pray let us hear what he says upon it.' Swift then, with an inflexible 
 gravity of countenance, proceeded to read the Meditation, in the same 
 solemn tone which he had used in delivering the former. Lady Berkeley, 
 not at all suspecting a trick, in the fullness of her prepossession, was 
 every now and then, during the reading of it, expressing her admiration 
 of this extraordinary man, who could draw such fine moral reflections 
 from so contemptible a subject; with which, though Swift must have 
 been inwardly not a little tickled, yet he preserved a most perfect com- 
 posure of features, so that she had not the least room to suspect any 
 deceit. Soon after, some company coming in, Swift pretended business, 
 and withdrew, foreseeing what was to follow. Lady Berkeley, full of 
 the subject, soon entered upon the praises of those heavenly Meditations 
 of Mr. Boyle. ' But,' said she, ' the doctor has been just reading one 
 to me, which has surprised me more than all the rest.' One of the 
 company asked which of the Meditations she meant? She answered 
 directly, in the simplicity of her heart, ' I mean, that excellent Medita- 
 tion upon the Broomstick.' The company looked at each other with 
 some surprise, and could scarce refrain from laughing. But they all 
 agreed that they had never heard of such a Meditation before. ' Upon 
 my word,' said my lady, ' there it is, look into that book, and convince 
 yourselves.' One of them opened the book, and found it there indeed, 
 but in Swift's handwriting ; upon which a general burst of laughter en- 
 sued ; and my lady, when the first surprise was over, enjoyed the joke 
 as much as any of them." [T. S.]
 
 A 
 
 MEDITATION 
 
 UPON A 
 
 BROOM-STICK 
 
 ACCORDING TO THE STYLE AND MANNER OF THE HONOUR- 
 ABLE ROBERT BOYLE'S MEDITATIONS. 
 
 THIS single stick, which you now behold ingloriously lying 
 in that neglected corner, I once knew in a flourishing 
 state in a forest ; it was full of sap, full of leaves, and full of 
 boughs ; but now, in vain does the busy art of man pretend 
 to vie with nature, by tying that withered bundle of twigs to 
 its sapless trunk ; 'tis now, at best, but the reverse of what 
 it was, a tree turned upside down, the branches on the earth, 
 and the root in the air ; 'tis now handled by every dirty 
 wench, condemned to do her drudgery, and, by a capricious 
 kind of fate, destined to make other things clean, and be 
 nasty itself : at length, worn to the stumps in the service of 
 the maids, it is either thrown out of doors, or condemned to 
 the last use, of kindling a fire. When I beheld this I sighed, 
 and said within myself, Sutelg man tS a ^JtOOmsttrfc ! 
 Nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a thriving 
 condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the proper 
 branches of this reasoning vegetable, until the axe of in- 
 temperance has lopped off his green boughs, and left him a 
 withered trunk : he then flies to art, and puts on a periwig, 
 valuing himself upon an unnatural bundle of hairs, (all 
 covered with powder,) that never grew on his head; but 
 now, should this our broomstick pretend to enier the scene, 
 proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered 
 with dust, though the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber,
 
 334 A MEDITATION UPON A BROOMSTICK. 
 
 we should be apt to ridicule and despise its vanity. Partial 
 judges that we are of our own excellencies, and other men's 
 defaults ! 
 
 But a broomstick, perhaps, you will say, is an emblem of 
 a tree standing on its head ; and pray what is man, but a 
 topsyturvy creature, his animal faculties perpetually mounted 
 on his rational, his head where his heels should be, grovel- 
 ling on the earth ! and yet, with all his faults, he sets up to 
 be a universal reformer and corrector of abuses, a remover of 
 grievances, rakes into every slut's corner of Nature, bringing 
 hidden corruption to the light, and raises a mighty dust 
 where there was none before ; sharing deeply all the while in 
 the very same pollutions he pretends to sweep away : his 
 last days are spent in slavery to women, and generally the 
 least deserving, till, worn out to the stumps, like his brother 
 besom, he is either kicked out of doors, or made use of to 
 kindle flames for others to warm themselves by. 
 
 FINIS.
 
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