24

The LIFE of Dr. SWIFT.

do as he pleafes, lays his misfortunes to
the charge of Providence, and comforts.
himself that he was inevitably deftined to
be tied up in his own garters. The cou-,
rage of thefe heroes proceeds from the
fame principles, whether they fall by their
own hands or thofe of Jack Ketch: The,
fuicide of whatever rank looks death in A
the face without shrinking; as the gal-
lant rogue affects an eafy unconcern un-
der Tyburn, throws away the pfalin-book,
bids the cart drive off with an oath, and
fwings like a gentleman.

If this madness fhould continue to grow more and more epidemical, it will be ex

Jan.

of his great grandfon, Dean Swift, Efq; He died in 1656, leaving five fons, Godwin, Thomas, Dryden, Jonathan, and Adam. Two of them only, Godwin and Jonathan, left fons. Jonathan married Mrs. Abigail Erick, of Leicestershire, by, whom he had one daughter and a fon. The daughter was born in the first year of Mr. Swift's marriage, but he did not live to fee the birth of his fon who was born two months after his death, and became afterwards the famous dean of St. Patrick's, of whom we are now treating.

He was born in Dublin, Nov. 30, 1667, and was carried into England foon after

pedient to have a bill of fuicide, diftinct B his birth, by his nurfe, who being ob

from the common bill of mortality,
brought in yearly, in which should be fet
down the number of fuicides, their me-
thods of destroying themselves, and the
likely caufes of their doing fo. In this,
I believe, we should find hut few mar-
tyrs to the weather, but their deaths
would commonly be imputed to despair,
produced by fome caufes fimilar to the C
following. In the little sketch of a bill
of fuicide underneath, I have left blanks
for the date of the year, as well as for
the number of felf-murderers, their man-
ner of dying, &c. which would naturally
be filled up by the proper perfons if ever
this fcheme fhould be put in execution.

Bill of SUICIDE for the Year
Of Newmarket races

Of kept miftreffes

Of electioneering

Of lotteries

-

Of French claret, French lace, French cooks, and French disease

D'

liged to cross the fea, and having a nurse's fondness for the child at her breast, conveyed him on fhipboard, without the knowledge of his mother and relations, and kept him with her at Whitehaven in Cumberland, during her refidence about three years in that place. This extraordinary event made his return feem as if he had been transplanted to Ireland, rather than that he owed his original exiftence to that foil. Hence the dean himfelf in his angry moods, when he was peevish, and provoked at the ingratitude of Ireland, was frequently heard to fay, "I am not of this vile country, I am an Englishman" which, tho' meant figuratively, was often taken literally: But in his cooler hours, he never denied his country; on the contrary, he frequently mentioned, and pointed out the houfe where he was born. His mother being but in low circumftances after her hufband's death, the care and tuition of her fon and daughter were voluntarily underE taken by his elder brother Mr. Godwin Swift, before mentioned.

Ꭰ

F

The infancy of Dr. Swift paffed on without any marks of diftinction. At fix years old he was fent to school at Kilkenny, and when he was about 14 he was entered a student of Trinity college in Dublin; where he lived in perfect regularity, and under an entire obedience to the ftatutes: But the morofeness of his temper made him very unacceptable to his companions, fo that he was little regarded, and lefs beloved: Nor were the academical exercifes agreeable to his genius; he held logick and metaphyficks in the utmost contempt, and fcarce confidered mathematicks and natural philofophy,

R. Swift's ancestors were of decent G uniefs to turn them into ridicule. The and reputable characters. His grand. father was the Rev. Mr. Thomas Swift, vicar of Goodridge, near Rofs in Herefordshire. He enjoyed a paternal eftate in that county, which is ftill in pollethon

ftudies he followed were history and poetry: In thefe he made a great progrefs, but had given fo little attention to all other branches of fcience, that when he appeared as a candidate for the degree

of

1755.

His Marriage, Church Preferments, &c.

of Bachelor of Arts, he was fet afide as
infufficient: He at last indeed obtained
it, but it was speciali grátiá, a phrase
which, it feems, in that university carries
in it the marks of dishonour and reproach.
Young Swift was full of indignation at the
treatment he met with at Dublin, and
therefore refolved to pursue his ftudies at A
Oxford. The members of that univerfi- **
ty understanding the words speciali gratiâ,
in his teftimonium, in a fenfe different from
theirs at Dublin, for a degree conferred as
a reward for extraordinary diligence and
learning, he was entered at Hart-hall,
now Hartford-college, where he refided
till he took his degree of Master of Arts,
in 1691.

Dr. Swift's uncle, on whom was his B
chief dependence, dying in the Revoluti-
on year, he was fupported chiefly by the
bounty of Sir William Temple, to whose
lady he was a diftant relation, which oc-
cafioned an ill-natured and groundless
furmife, that he was his real father. As
foon as he quitted the univerfity, he lived
with Sir William as his friend, and do-
meftick companion. After his recovery
from a long and dangerous illness, he
went into Ireland to try the effects of his
native air for the completion of his health,
and found fo much benefit, that he foon
returned to England, and was again most
affectionately received by Sir William
Temple, whofe house was now at Sheen,
where he was often vifited by king Wil-D
liam. Here Swift had frequent opportu-
nities of converfing with that prince,
who offered to make him a captain of
horfe; an offer, which in his fplenetick
difpofition he often feemed forry to have
refufed; but at that time he had refolv-
ed in his mind to take orders, and fo he
again went over to Ireland, and immedi-
ately inlifted himself under the banner of
the church. He was recommended to
lord Capel, then lord deputy, who gave
him a prebend worth about rool. a year.
But he foon grew weary of a preferment,
which to a man of his ambition was far
from being fufficient. He refigned his
prebend in favour of a friend, and being
fick of folitude returned to Sheen, where
he lived domeftically as ufual, till the
death of Sir William Temple, who, be-
fides a legacy in money, left to him the
care and truft of publishing his pofthu-
mous works.

During Swift's refidence with Sir William Temple, he became intimately ac-G quainted with a lady, whom he has diftinguished, and often celebrated, under the name of Stella. Her real name was Johnfon. She was the daughter of Sir William's fteward, and the concealed, but

January, 1755.

undoubted wife of Dr. Swift.

25

Sir Wil

It

liam bequeathed her in his will 1000l. as an acknowledgment of her father's faith. ful fervices. In 1716 fhe was married to Dr. Swift, by Dr. Afhe, then bishop of Clogher. There was a long interval between the commencement of his acquaintance with Stella, and the time of his marrying her; and after their marriage they continued the fame ceconomy of life as before. They lived in feparate houses; nothing appeared in their behaviour beyond the limits of Platonick love. muft feem unaccountable, that, notwithftanding the extraordinary character of this lady, and her inwardly repining at this fituation, Swift could never be prevailed on by her to acknowledge her for his wife, or to live with her as fuch. Lord Orrery imputes it to his ambition and pride, which directed all his actions, and conquered reafon and juftice, which made him difdain a low alliance, confidering the fervile ftate of her father; tho' others impute it to the common rumour of her being Sir William Temple's natural daugh. ter, as Swift was reported to be his natural fon. She died in Jan. 1727, abfolutely deftroyed (fays lord Orrery) by the peculiarity of her fate.

Upon the death of Sir William Temple, Swift came to London, and delivered a petition to king William, under the claim of a promife made by his majesty to Sir William, that Mr. Swift fhould have the first vacancy among the prebends of Westminster or Canterbury; but herein he was disappointed, from whence may be dated that bitterness towards kings and courtiers, fo univerfally dispersed throughout his works.

After this he attended the earl of Berkley (one of the lords juftices) into Ireland, as his chaplain and private fecretary. But here he met with another disap pointment, being fupplanted by one Mr. Bush, another of his lordship's attendants, and fo dismissed from his office of fecretary. This treatment was thought injurious, and Swift expressed his fenfibi. lity of it in a fhort but fatirical copy of verfes, called The Discovery. However, during the government of the earls of Berkley and Galway, who were jointly lords juftices of Ireland, the rectory of Laracor, worth about zool. per annum, and that of Rathbeggan, worth about 6ol. were given him, the only church preferments he enjoyed till he was made dean of St. Patrick's.

Lord Orrery fays, that as foon as he had taken poffeffion of his two livings, he went to refide at Laracor, and gave publick notice to his parishioners, that he would

D

26

Becomes popular in Ireland.

would read prayers on every Wednesday
and Friday. The following Wednesday
the bell was rung, and the rector attend-
ed in his desk, when after having fat fome
time, and finding the congregation to con-
fift only of himself and his clerk Roger,
he began with great compofure and gra-
vity, but with a turn peculiar to himself, A
Dear beloved Roger, the fcripture moveth you
and me in fundry places, &c. And then
proceeded regularly thro' the whole fer-
vice. This trifling circumstance, says his
lordship, ferves to fhew, that he could
not refift a vein of humour, whenever he
had an opportunity of exerting it. And
his lordship gives an inftance of his pride,
in his refuting all reconciliation with his B
fifter, for her marrying a tradesman, tho'
in very good circumstances, and with the
approbation of his uncle and relations.

During his mother's life-time, he scarce
ever failed to pay her an annual vifit; but
his manner of travelling was as fingular
as any other of his actions. He often
went in a waggon, but more frequently
walked from Holy Head to Leicester,
London, or any other part of England.
He generally chofe to dine with waggo-
ners, oftlers, and perfons of that rank;
and used to lie at night in houfes where,
was written over the door, Lodgings for
a Penny. He delighted in fcenes of low
life. The vulgar dialect was not only a
fund of humour for him, but feems to D
have been agreeable to his nature, as ap-
pears from the many filthy ideas, and in-
decent expreffions found throughout his
works.

A ftrict refidence in a country place was not at all fuitable to his refless temper : He was perpetually making excursions, not only to Dublin, and other places in E Ireland, but likewife to London. This rambling difpofition occafioned him the lofs of the rich deanery of Derry, then vacant, and defigned him by lord Berkley, thro' the interpofition of Dr. King, then bishop of Derry, and afterwards archbishop of Dublin, who objected to it on account of his being too young, and of fo rambling a temper.

From this time, to the change of the ministry in 1710, we have little remarkable of him: But from that time to the death of the queen, we find him fighting on the fide of the Tories, and maintaining their caufe in pamphlets, poems and weekly papers : But after all, tho' he was employed by the minifters he was not trusted, they found his fpirit fo untractable, haughty and overbearing, and fo he remained without any preferment till 1713, when he was made dean of St. Patrick's in Ireland, which feemed to be only a profitable and honourable banish

F

Jan. ment to a man whofe perpeual view was a fettlement in England. He was before difappointed of an English bishoprick, which he imagined he owed to the joint application to the queen against him, by archbishop Sharpe and a lady of the highto Swift's account, had reprefented him eft rank and character, who, according as not a chriftian. He kept himself within fome tolerable bounds when he spoke of the queen, but his indignation knew no limits, when he mentioned the archbishop or the lady.

On his arrival in Ireland, to take poffeffion of his deanery, he was treated by imaginable; they even threw ftones and the people with all the contempt and abufe dirt at him as he paffed thro' the streets, and the chapter of St. Patrick's received him with the utmoft reluctance. to fhew the ftrange revolutions in this But world, and the temper of the generality of mankind, who love they know not who are captivated by words, guided by whom, and hate they know not why, names, and governed by accidents, Dr. Swift, who was now the deteftation of the Irish, lived to be afterwards the moft abfolute monarch over them that ever governed men.

In the beginning of the year 1714, he returned into England, and found his He retired to a friend's in Berkshire, where great friends the minifters all in confufion. he remained till the queen died, which put an end to all his views in England, and made him haften back to his deanery in Ireland. From this time till he appeared, in 1720, a champion for Ireland, his politicks were kept almoft wholly conand trifles engroffed too many of his leifure fined within his own breaft: Idleness hours; fools and fycophants too much of his converfation. But in that year he began to re-affume the character of a political. writer. A fmall pamphlet in defence, of the Irish manufactures was his fift effay of this kind in Ireland, and to this he owed the turn of the popular tide in, his favour. He was now diftinguished. by the title of The Dean, and was looked upon in quite a new light. But the peoples affection to him may be faid not to be univerfal, till the publication of his letters, under the character of M. B. Drapier, against Wood's half-pence; which entirely defeated that pernicious dean's applause, fcheme, and made all men unite in the From hence he acquired the name of The Drapier, and beIrish nation. came, as it were, the idol of the whole

In this state of popularity he remained till he loft his fenfes; a lofs which he feemed

1755.

His Poetical and Moral CHARACTER.

The

feemed to forefee, and prophetically la-
mented to many of his friends, often men-
tioning the duke of Marlborough, lord
Somers, &c. who were reduced to the
fate of childhood and idotifm before their
death; and when he spoke of them, it
was always with a heavy figh.
total deprivation of his fenfes came upon A
him by degrees. In 1736 he was feized
with a violent fit of giddinefs, while he
was writing a fatirical poem, called,
The Legion Club; but he found the
effects of his giddinefs fo dreadful, that
he left it unfinished, and never afterwards
attempted any thing either in verse or
profe.

However, his converfation fill remain. B
ed the fame, lively and fevere, but his
memory gradually grew worse and worse;
and as that decreased, he grew every
day more fretful and impatient. In 1741,
his friends found his paffions fo violent
and ungovernable, his memory fo de-
cayed, and his reafon fo depraved, that
they took the utmost precaution to keep C
all ftrangers from him; for till then
he had not appeared totally incapable
of converfation: But early in the year
1742, the small remains of his under-
tanding became quite confufed, and the
violence of his rage increafed abfolute-
ly to a degree of madnefs. In this
miferable state he seemed to be appointed
the first inhabitant of his own hospital,
which he had charitably founded for
ideots and lunaticks; efpecially, as from
an outragious lunatick he funk after-
wards to a quiet, fpeechlefs ideot, and
dragged out the remainder of his life
in that helpless condition. He died about
the end of October, 1745, appearing, fome
years before, referved only as an example E
to mortify human pride.

27

pofterity; if he had cultivated his genius that way, he must certainly have excelled, especially in fatire: We fee fine fketches in feveral of his pieces, but he feems more defirous to form and strengthen his mind than to indulge the luxury of this imagination. He chufes to difcover and correct errors in the works of others,

rather than to illuftrate and add beauties of his own. He aims to be feverely useful rather than politely engaging; and as he was either not formed, nor would take pains to excel in poetry, he became in fome measure fuperior to it, and affumed more the air and manner of a critick than a poet." But his lordihip adds, when speaking of the 9th vol. of Swift's works, "He had the niceft ear, he is remarkably chafte and delicate in his rhymes: A bad rhyme appeated to him one of the capital fins of poetry." The dean's poem on his celebrated Vaneffa is numbered among the beft of his poetical pieces.

Lord Orrery thus defcribes his moral character. "I have beheld him, fays he, in all humours and difpofitions, and I have formed various fpeculations from the feveral weakneffes to which I obferved him liable. His capacity and ftrength of mind were undoubtedly equal to any task whatever. His pride, his fpirit, or his ambition (call it by what D name you please) was boundless; but his views were checked in his younger years, and the anxiety of that difappointment had a fenfible effect on all his actions. He was four and fevere, but not abfolutely ill-natured: He was fociable only to particular friends, and to them only at particular hours. He knew politeness more than he practifed it. fle was a mixture of avarice and generofity; the former was frequently prevalent, the latter feldem appeared, unlefs excited by compaffion. He was open to adulation, and would not, or could not diftinguith between low flattery and just applaufe. His abilities rendered him fuperior to envy : He was undifguised and perfectly fincere. I am induced to think that he entered into orders more from fome private and fixed refolution, than from abfolute choice. Be that as it may, he performed the duties of the church with great punctuallity, and a decent degree of devotion: He read prayers rather in a strong, nervous voice, than in a graceful manner; and altho' he has often been accused of irreligion, nothing of that kind appeared in his converfation or behaviour. His caft of mind induced him to think and fpeak more of politicks than religion. His perpetual views were directed to

His jocularity was fuch, that it appears even in his last will. He difpofes of his three beft hats (his beft, his fecond beft, and his third beft beavers) with a folemnity that renders the bequests ridiculous. He bequeaths to Mr. John Grattan a filver box, to keep in it the tobacco, which the faid John ufually chewed, cal. F led pigtail. But his legacy to Mr. Robert Gratton is ftill more extraordinary : "Item, I bequeath to the Rev. Mr. Robert Grattan my strong box, on condition of his giving the fole ufe of the said box to his brother, Dr. James Grattan, du ring the life of the faid Doctor, who hath more occafion for it."

As to dean Swift's poetical character, lord Orrery fays, "The poetical performances of Swift ought to be confidered as occational poems, written either to pleafure- or to vex fome particular perfons: We must not fuppofe them defigned for

G

D 2

wards

28

Account of the Tragedy of BARBAROSSA.

wards power, and his chief aim was to
be removed to England; but when he
found himself entirely difappointed, he
turned his thoughts to oppofition, and
became the patron of Ireland."

In cur last ve gave the Introduction to the
Hiftory of the new TRAGEDY, entitled
BARBAROSSA, lately brought upon
the Stage at the Theatre Royal in Drury-
Lane and fhall now give the following
Account of that Tragedy.

T

HE fcene is at the royal palace of Algiers, a few hours before midnight; and the perfons of the drama are, Barbaroffa, the famous Turkish pirate, who made himself king of Algiers.

Achmet, fuppofed to be an Algerine flave.

Othman, an Algerine officer in the fervice of Barbaroffa, and a favourite of Zaphira's.

Sadi, an exiled Algerine officer, an old friend of Othman's.

Aladin, a Turkish officer, and a favourite of Barbaroffa's.

Zaphira, widow of Selim Eutemi, the former king of Algiers, and mother of young Selim.

Irene, Barbaroffa's daughter.
Officers, attendants, and flaves.

Jan.

back, which he had given him to fend as a token of Selim's death; after which he orders Aladin to go and fpread the report, that he was just going to be married to the queen-dowager; for, fays he, if perfuafion win not her confent, power thall compel. This Aladin approves, and A upon his exit Irene enters, all in tears of pity for the queen, who begged that he would put off his intended vifit, and leave her to mourn in folitude; and upon Irene's preffing his compliance, he sternly orders her to dry up her tears, and not damp the general triumph that was going to echo thro' Algiers, as foon as young Selim's death fhould be publickly known. BOn this the exclaims, O generous Selim! and falls into a fresh flood of tears, which furprises him, and, upon his asking the caufe, the informs him, that when the was taken by the Moors and fold at Oran, about five months before, it was Selim that redeemed her, without knowing who he was; but that when she told Chim, he started at the name of Barba

roffa; however, he foon recovered, and mildly faid, Go to Algiers, protect my mother,

And be to her, what Selim is to thee. By this the father is thrown in a violent paffion, and, after ordering her not to tell the queen of Selim's fate, he goes off threatning,Yes, the hall crown my

Dlove;

A& I. Opens with a dialogue between Othman and Sadi, wherein Othman difcovers his loyalty, and that his pretended zeal for Barbaroifa was all diffimulation, which part he had undertaken to act, in pity to their widowed queen, and in order to watch an opportunity for freeing their country from the ufurper, and reftoring young Selim; but was afraid of his being murdered, as Barbaroffa had employed an affaffin for the purpose, and E was tempting the queen-dowager to marry himself, tho' the rejected his addreffes with fcorn. Upon Sadi's exit, Barbaroffa enters, and after his talking a little to Othman of the perfons he had that day caused to be executed under pretence of their having been the murderers of king Selim, Aladin enters with the news of there being a report, that prince F

Selim had been killed at Oran in an encounter with two flaves, one of whom fell by his valour, but the other had killed him. Then Barbaroffa fends Othman to the queen to intercede with her to comply with his fuit, before the should hear of her fon's death, and to tell her, that he prefently defigned her a vifit ;G and after Othman's exit, he tells Aladin, hat he feared that Omar, whom he had fent to affaffinate prince Selim, was the Blave that had fallen in the encounter, as he had neither returned nor fent his fignet

On my defenceless head? Yet innocence
Shall yield her firm fupport; and con-
fcious virtue
[phira,
Gild all my days. Cou'd I but fave Za-
Let the storm beat. I'll weep and pray,
till the
[cruel.
And heav'n forget, my father e'er was
Act II. Opens with this foliloquy by
Zaphira,

When fhall I be at peace !-O righte
ous heav'n,
[wou'd rife
Strengthen my fainting foul, which fain
To confidence in thee !-But woes on

woes

O'erwhelm