SWIFT'S POWER OF INVECTIVE.

in excellent condition, and written in a very beautiful character. They were received with profound respect by those who knew nothing of the matter; but as soon as those acquainted with the language cast their eyes upon them, they discovered that these rare volumes were common registers and account-books of Arabian merchants! Risum teneatis amici.

SWIFT'S POWER OF INVECTIVE.

263

tive, is his means. It is his sword and his shield, his panoply, and his chariot of war. In all his writings, accordingly, there is nothing to raise or exalt our notions of human nature-but everything to vilify and degrade. We may learn from them, perhaps, to dread the consequences of base actions, but never to love the feelings that lead to generous ones. There is no spirit, indeed, of love or of honour in any part of them; but an Jeffrey, in his review of the unvaried and harassing display of works of Swift, more especially insolence and animosity in the the Tale of a Tub, Gulliver, and the writer, and villany and folly in Polite Conversation, characterizes those of whom he is writing. them as follows:-"Their distin- Though a great polemic, he makes guishing feature, however, is the no use of general principles, nor force and vehemence of the invec-ever enlarges his views to a tive in which they abound; the wide or comprehensive conclusion. copiousness, the steadiness, the Everything is particular with him, perseverance, and the dexterity and, for the most part, strictly perwith which abuse and ridicule sonal. To make amends, however, are showered upon the adversary. we do think him quite without a This, we think, was, beyond all competitor in personalities. With doubt, Swift's great talent, and the a quick and sagacious spirit, and a weapon by which he made himself bold and popular manner, he joins formidable. He was, without ex- an exact knowledge of all the ception, the greatest and most effi- strong and the weak parts of every cient libeller that ever exercised cause he has to manage; and, withthe trade; and possessed, in an out the least restraint from delieminent degree, all the qualifica- cacy, either of taste or of feeling, tions which it requires: a clear he seems always to think the most head-a cold heart-a vindictive effectual blows the most advisable, temper-no admiration of noble and no advantage unlawful that is qualities-no sympathy with suf- likely to be successful for the mofering not much conscience-not ment. Disregarding all the laws much consistency-a ready wit of polished hostility, he uses, at a sarcastic humour-a thorough one and the same moment, his knowledge of the baser parts of sword and his poisoned dagger— human nature-and a complete his hands, and his teeth, and his familiarity with everything that envenomed breath-and does not is low, homely, and familiar in even scruple, upon occasion, to imilanguage. These were his gifts; tate his own yahoos, by discharging and he soon felt for what ends on his unhappy victims a shower they were given. Almost all his of filth, from which neither courage works are libels; generally upon nor dexterity can afford any proindividuals, sometimes upon sects tection.-Against such an antagoand parties, sometimes upon hu-nist, it was, of course, at no time man nature. Whatever be his very easy to make head; and acend, however, personal abuse, di-cordingly his invective seems, for rect, vehement, unsparing invec- the most part, to have been as

much dreaded, and as tremendous! quaintance. On going for the first as the personal ridicule of Voltaire. time into any family, he frequently Both were inexhaustible, well-di- prescribed beforehand the hours for rected, and unsparing; but even when Voltaire drew blood, he did not mangle the victim, and was only mischievous when Swift was brutal. Any one who will compare the epigrams on M. Franc de Pompignan with those on Tighe or Bettesworth, will easily understand the distinction."

SWIFT'S PERSONAL CHARACTER.

their meals, sleep, and exercise: and insisted rigorously upon the literal fulfilment of the capitulation. From his intimates he uniformly exacted the most implicit submission to all his whims and absurdities; and carried his prerogative so far, that he sometimes used to chase the Grattans and other accommodating friends, through the apartments of the deanery, and up and down Of Swift's personal character, stairs, driving them like horses, his ingenious biographer has given with a large whip, till he thought almost as partial a representation, he had enough of exercise. All his as of his political conduct a great jests have the same character of part of it indeed has been antici- insolence and coarseness. When pated, in tracing the principles of he first came to his curate's house, that conduct the same arrogance he announced himself as "his masand disdain of mankind, leading to ter;" took possession of the fireside, profligate ambition and scurrility and ordered his wife to take charge in public life, and to domineering of his shirts and stockings. When and selfish habits in private. His a young clergyman was introduced character seems to have been radi- to him, he offered him the dregs of cally overbearing and tyrannical; a bottle of wine, and said, he always for though, like other tyrants, he kept a poor parson about him to could stoop low enough where his drink up his dregs. Even in hiring interests required it, it was his de- servants, he always chose to insult light to exact an implicit compli- them, by inquiring into their qualiance with his humours and fancies, fications for some filthy and degradand to impose upon all around him ing office. And though it may be the task of observing and accom- true, that his after-conduct was not modating themselves to his habits, exactly of a piece with those prewithout the slightest regard to their liminaries, it is obvious, that as no convenience or comfort. Where- man of proper feelings could subever he came, the ordinary forms mit to such impertinence, so no of society were to give way to his man could have a right to indulge pleasure; and everything, even to in it. Even considered merely as the domestic arrangements of a a manner assumed to try the chafamily, to be suspended for his caracter of those with whom he lived, price. If he was to be introduced it was a test which no one but a to a person of rank, he insisted that the first advances and the first visit should be made to him. If he went to see a friend in the country, he would order an old tree to be cut down, if it obstructed the view from his window-and was never at his ease unless he was allowed to give nicknames to the lady of the house, and make lampoons upon her ac

tyrant could imagine himself entitled to apply; and Swift's practical conclusion from it was just the reverse of what might be expected. He attached himself to those only who were mean enough to bear this usage, and broke with all who resented it. While he had something to gain or to hope from the world, he seems to have been occa

PROFESSOR WHITE.

sionally less imperious; but, after he retired to Ireland, he gave way without restraint to the native arrogance of his character; and, accordingly, confined himself almost entirely to the society of a few easytempered persons, who had no talents or pretensions to come in competition with his; and who, for the honour of his acquaintance, were willing to submit to the dominion he usurped. A singular contrast to the rudeness and arrogance of this behaviour to his friends and dependents, is afforded by the instances of extravagant adulation and base humility, which occur in his addresses to those upon whom his fortune depended.-(Jeffrey.)

PORSON.

265

"Doubtless your books sell famously.'

"Bah, no bookseller will buy them. No, sir, I have hit on a better metier than that of writing books. I am giving lessons in Italian.'

"Italian! why, I thought when I last saw you, that you told me Italian was the very language you knew nothing about.'

"Nor did I, sir; but as soon as I had procured scholars, I began to teach myself. I bought a dictionary. I learnt that lesson in the morning which I taught my pupils at noon. Professor Porson being once at a I found I was more familiar and exdinner-party where the conversation planatory, thus fresh from knowing turned upon Captain Cook and his little, than if I had been confused and celebrated voyages round the world, over-deep by knowing much. I am an ignorant person, in order to contri-a most popular teacher, sir; and my bute his mite towards the social in- whole art consists in being just one tercourse, asked him, Pray, was lesson in advance of my scholars.' " Cook killed on his first voyage? "I believe he was, "answered Porson, "though he did not mind it much, but immediately entered on a

second."

66

Porson said of a prospect shown to him, that it put him in mind of a fellowship a long, dreary walk, with a church at the end of it.

POPULAR TEACHING.

Bulwer, in his England and the English, hits off the literary charlatans most aptly :

"At present a popular instructor is very much like a certain master in Italian, who has thriven prodigiously upon a new experiment on his pupils.

"J- was a clever fellow, and full of knowledge which nobody wanted to know. After seeing him in rags for some years, I met him the other day most sprucely attired, and with the complacent and san

PROFESSOR WHITE.

At

White was a very extraordinary man, of great profundity as an Asiatic linguist. He was first discovered by the late Dean Tucker, working as an apprentice to a poor weaver, in a village either in Gloucestershire or Somersetshire. this village, on a certain day, was to be a dinner-party. The dean, strolling about before dinner, chanced to go into a poor weaver's shop. He took up a dirty, tattered Greek Testament. "How comes this here? who reads this book?" "Sir, my lad is always poring over such books." On speaking to the lad, he found him well versed in Greek and Latin. By appointment he waited upon the dean in the afternoon,who introduced him to the company. A collection was made for him. Tucker undertook the care of him, put him to school at Gloucester, and from thence

Francis I. was one day playing at tennis, when a monk, who was playing on his side, by a successful stroke, insured the victory to the king's party. "Well done," said the king; "a brave stroke for a monk!" "Sire," replied the monk, "your majesty can make it the blow of an abbé when you please." Some days afterwards the abbacy of Bourmayen became vacant, and the king presented the situation to him.

A female devotee, who confessed the great attachment she had to Henry, in his History of Eng-play, was reminded by her confessor land, states that the following parts of the sad loss of time which it of learning were cultivated, in some occasioned. Ah, true," said she, degree, in Britain, during the pe- "there is a deal of time lost in riod from 1066 to 1216: grammar, shuffling the cards."

PE INNOCENT XI.

SHAKESPEARE.

Pope Innocent XI. was the son of a banker. He was elected on St. Matthew's day, and in the evening a pasquinade appeared on the statue: "They found a man sitting at the receipt of custom."

QUANTITY AND QUALITY.

A marquis said to a financier, "I would have you to know that I am a man of quality." "And I," replied the financier, "am a man of quantity."

BOSSUET.

M. Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, at eight years of age, preached with grace; he delivered a sermon at that age at the Hotel de Rambouillet. It was nearly midnight when he closed, and Voiture, who was present, remarked as he rose to go, I have never heard a sermon so early or so late."

CANDOUR.

267

!fied student retreated instantly into college, and repeated to the regent the history of the apparition of the devil. The Jesuit, who saw that the theme was composed in the most elegant Latin. and that the student told the story with perfect sincerity and good faith, was puzzled what to think of the matter. Soon after, Santeuil was present at a public discussion which took place in the hall of the Jesuits. The scholar recognized his old acquaintance, and immediately called out in an agony of fear, "The devil! the devil!" Santeuil, perceiving that he was detected, related the story, to the infinite amusement of the audience, who found this explanation much more interesting than the former subject of discussion.

BREVITY.

Henry IV. liked a brief reply. He once met an ecclesiastic, to whom he said, "Whence do you come? Where are you going? What do you want?" The ecclesiastic reThe first president of the par-plied instantly, "From Bourgesliament of Paris, asked M. Montau- to Paris-a benefice." "You shall ban, one day as he rose to speak, have it," replied the monarch. whether he would be long. "Very,' replied the advocate coolly. "At least," replied the magistrate, "you are candid."

SANTEUIL.

THE SUN.

Some astronomers, who had been making observations, thought they perceived several spots in the sun. Voitiere happened shortly afterwards to be in a company, where he was asked if there were any news. None," said he; "but that I hear very bad reports of the sun."

66

SHAKSPEARE.

Santeuil was crossing the court of the College of Cardinal le Morne, when he met a scholar who was walking up and down, composing his theme which he held in his hand. Santeuil, guessing what he was employed about, pulled the paper out "Foreigners cannot enjoy our of his hand with a tremendous ex- Shakspeare," said Sherlock to Volpression of countenance, translated taire. "That is true," replied he; it instantly into elegant Latin, and "they are acquainted with his plays returned it to him, saying, "If your only through translations, which regent asks you who composed this retain slight faults, while the great theme, tell him it was the devil." beauties are lost: a blind man canHe then hurried off, making his not be persuaded of the beauty of cloak fly about him, and raising a the rose, when his fingers are cloud of dust all about. The terri-pricked by the thorns."