$89 JONATHAN SWIFT. JONATHAN SWIFT, a person who has carried one | brought him under the heavy imputation, from which he was never able entirely to free himself, of being a scoffer against revealed religion. His prospects of advancement in the political career were abortive, till 1710, when the Tories came into power. His connection with this party began in an acquaintance with Harley, afterwards Earl of Oxford, who introduced him to secretary St. John, afterwards Lord Bolingbroke; and he engaged the confidence of these leaders to such a degree, that he was admitted to their most secret consultations. In all his transactions with them he was most scrupulously attentive to preserve every appearance of being on an equality, and to repress every thing that looked like slight or neglect on their parts; and there probably is not another ex species of poetry, that of humorous satire, to a degree never before attained, was, by his parentage, of English descent, but probably born in Ireland. It is known that his father, also called Jonathan, having married a Leicestershire lady, died at an early age, leaving a daughter, and a posthumous son. His widow, being left in narrow circumstances, was invited by her husband's brother, Godwin, who resided in Dublin, to his house; and there, it is supposed, Jonathan was born, on November 30th, 1667. After passing some time at a school in Kilkenny, he was removed to Trinity College, Dublin, in his 15th year; in which university he spent seven years, and then obtained with difficulty the degree of bachelor of arts, conferred speciali gratia. The circumstance affords sufficient proof of the misap-ample of a man of letters who has held his head so plication of his talents to mathematical pursuits; but he is said to have been at this period engaged eight hours a day in more congenial studies. high in his association with men in power. This was undoubtedly owing to that constitutional pride and unsubmitting nature which governed all his A bishopric in England was the object at which he aimed, and a vacancy on the bench occurring, he was recommended by his friends in the ministry to the Queen; but suspicions of his faith, and other prejudices, being raised against him, he was passed over; and the highest preferment which his patrons could venture to bestow upon him was the deanery of St. Patrick's, in Dublin; to which he was presented in 1713, and in which he continued for life. The death of the Queen put an end to all contests among the Tory ministers; and the change terminated Swift's prospects, and condemned him to an unwilling residence in a country which he always disliked. On his return to Dublin his temper was severely tried by the triumph of the Whigs, who treated him with great indignity; but in length of time, by a proper exercise of his clerical office, by reforms introduced into the chapter of St. Patrick's, and by his bold and able exposures of the abuses practised in the government of Ireland, he rose to the title of King of the Mob in that capital. So profuse are the materials for the life of Swift,actions. that it has become almost a vain attempt to give, in a moderate compass, the events by which he was distinguished from ordinary mortals; and it will therefore be chiefly in his character of a poetical composer that we shall now consider him. He was early domesticated with the celebrated statesman, Sir William Temple, who now lived in retirement at Moor Park; but having made choice of the church as his future destination, on parting in some disagreement from Temple, he went to Ireland, with very moderate expectations, and took orders. A reconciliation with his patron brought him back to Moor Park, where he passed his time in harmony till the death of Sir William, who left him a legacy and his papers. He then accepted an invitation from the Earl of Berkeley, one of the Lords Justices of Ireland, to accompany him thither as chaplain and private secretary; and he continued in the family as long as his lordship remained in that kingdom. Here Swift began to distinguish himself by an incomparable talent of writing humorous verses in the true familiar style, several specimens of which he produced for the amusement of the house. After Lord Berkeley's return to England, Swift went to reside at his living at Laracor, in the diocese of Meath; and here it was that ambition began to take possession of his mind. He thought it proper to increase his consequence by taking the degree of doctor of divinity in an English university; and, for the purpose of forming connections, he paid annual visits to that country. In 1701, he first engaged as a political writer; and, in 1704, he published, though anonymously, his celebrated "Tale of a Tub," which, while it placed him high as a writer distinguished by wit and humour of a peculiar cast, His conduct with respect to the female sex was not less unaccountable than singular, and certainly does no honour to his memory. Early in life he attached himself to his celebrated Stella, whose real name was Johnson, the daughter of Sir William Temple's steward. Soon after his settlement at Laracor he invited her to Ireland. She came, accompanied by a Mrs. Dingley, and resided near the parsonage when he was at home, and in it when he was absent; nor were they ever known to lodge in the same house, or to see each other without a witness. In 1716, he was privately married to her, but the parties were brought no nearer than before, and the act was attended with no acknowledgment that could gratify the feelings of a woman who had so long devoted herself to him. About the year 1712, he became acquainted, in London, with Miss Esther Vanhomrigh, a young lady of fortune, with a taste for literature, which Swift was fond of cultivating. To her he wrote the longest and most finished of his poems, entitled Cadenus and Vanessa; and her attachment acquired so much strength, that she made him the offer of her hand. Even after his marriage to Stella, Swift kept Miss Vanhomrigh in ignorance of this connection; but a report of it having at length reached her, she took the step of writing a note to Stella, requesting to know if the marriage were real. Stella assured her of the affirmative in her answer, which she enclosed to Swift, and went into the country without seeing him. Swift went immediately to the house of Miss Vanhomrigh, threw Stella's letter on the table, and departed, without speaking a word. She never recovered the shock, and died in 1723. Stella, with her health entirely ruined, languished on till 1728, when she expired. Such was the fate which he prepared for both. humorous and sarcastic was his habitual taste, which he frequently indulged beyond the bounds of decorum; a circumstance which renders the task of selection from his works somewhat perplexing. In wit, both in verse and prose, he stands foremost in grave irony, maintained with the most plausible air of serious simplicity, and supported by great minuteness of detail. His "Gulliver's Travels" are a remarkable exemplification of his powers in this kind, which have rendered the work wonderfully amusing, even to childish readers, whilst the keen satire with which it abounds may gratify the most splenetic misanthropist. In general, however, his style in prose, though held up as a model of clearness, purity, and simplicity, has only the merit of expressing the author's meaning with perfect precision. Late in life, Swift fell under the fate which he dreaded: the faculties of his mind decayed before those of his body, and he gradually settled into absolute idiocy. A total silence for some months preceded his decease, which took place in October, 1744, when he was in his 78th year. He was interred in St. Patrick's cathedral, under a monument, for which he wrote a Latin epitaph, in which one clause most energetically displays the state of his feelings: "Ubi sæva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit." He bequeathed the greatest part of his property to an hospital for lunatics and Of the poems of Swift, some of the most striking were composed in mature life, after his attainment of his deanery of St. Patrick; and it will be admitted that no one ever gave a more perfect example of the easy familiarity attainable in the English language. His readiness in rhyme is truly astonishing; the most uncommon associations of sounds coming to him as it were spontaneously, idiots, in words seemingly the best adapted to the occasion. That he was capable of high polish and elegance, some of his works sufficiently prove; but the - To show, by one satiric touch, No nation wanted it so much. CADENUS AND VANESSA. • WRITTEN AT WINDSOR, 1713. THE shepherds and the nymphs were seen The brief with weighty crimes was charg'd, Founded on an offer of marriage made by Miss Vanhomrigh to Dr. Swift, who was occasionally her preceptor. The lady's unhappy story is well known. Against our sovereign lady's peace, Or some worse brute in human shape, The few soft moments they can spare, From visits to receive and pay; In a dull stream, which moving slow, Stops thus, and turns with every wind; The fault must on the nymphs be plac'd, The pleader, having spoke his best, Had witness ready to attest, Who fairly could on oath depose, When questions on the fact arose, That every article was true; Nor further these deponents knew: Therefore he humbly would insist, The bill might be with costs dismiss'd. The cause appear'd of so much weight, That Venus, from her judgment-seat, Desir'd them not to talk so loud, Else she must interpose a cloud : For, if the heavenly folk should know These pleadings in the courts below, That mortals here disdain to love, She ne'er could show her face above; For gods, their betters, are too wise To value that which men despise. "And then," said she, "my son and I Must stroll in air, 'twixt land and sky; Or else, shut out from heaven and earth, Fly to the sea, my place of birth; There live, with daggled mermaids pent, And keep on fish perpetual Lent." But, since the case appear'd so nice, She thought it best to take advice. The Muses, by their king's permission, Though foes to love, attend the session, And on the right hand took their places In order; on the left, the Graces : To whom she might her doubts propose On all emergencies that rose. The Muses oft' were seen to frown; The Graces half-asham'd look down; And 'twas observ'd there were but few Of either sex among the crew, Whom she or her assessors knew. The goddess soon began to see, Things were not ripe for a decree; And said she must consult her books, The lovers' Fletas, Bractons, Cokes. First to a dapper clerk she beckon'd, To turn to Ovid, book the second; She then referr'd them to a place In Virgil (vide Dido's case :) As for Tibullus's reports, They never pass'd for law in courts: For Cowley's briefs, and pleas of Waller, Still their authority was smaller. There was on both sides much to say: She'd hear the cause another day. And so she did; and then a third She heard it there, she kept her word: But, with rejoinders or replies, Long bills, and answers stuff'd with lies, Demur, imparlance, and essoign, The parties ne'er could issue join: For sixteen years the cause was spun, And then stood where it first begun. Now, gentle Clio, sing or say, What Venus meant by this delay. The goddess, much perplex'd in mind To see her empire thus declin'd, When first this grand debate arose, Above her wisdom to compose, Conceiv'd a project in her head To work her ends; which, if it sped, Would show the merits of the cause Far better than consulting laws. In a glad hour Lucina's aid She threw her law-books on the shelf, "Since men allege, they ne'er can find ; This said, she plucks in Heaven's high bowers A sprig of amaranthine flowers, In nectar thrice infuses bays, Three times refin'd in Titan's rays; Then calls the Graces to her aid, And sprinkles thrice the new-born maid: A sweetness above all perfumes: The Graces next would act their part, But still the work was not complete ; When Venus thought on a deceit, Drawn by her doves, away she flies, And finds out Pallas in the skies. "Dear Pallas, I have been this morn To see a lovely infant born; A boy in yonder isle below, So like my own without his bow, By beauty could your heart be won, You 'd swear it is Apollo's son: But it shall ne'er be said a child So hopeful has by me been spoil'd; I have enough besides to spare, And give him wholly to your care.' Wisdom's above suspecting wiles: The seeds of knowledge, judgment, wit. With honour, which no breath can stain, To-morrow, ere the setting sun, In proper season Pallas meets Know'st thou not yet, that men commence Thy votaries, for want of sense? Nor shall Vanessa be the theme To manage thy abortive scheme: She 'll prove the greatest of thy foes; And yet I scorn to interpose, But, using neither skill nor force, First issued from perfumers' shops, Gave hints of who and who's together; With silent scorn Vanessa sat, In judgment, knowledge, wit, and taste; As who should say - "She wants it here! A party next of glittering dames, Their clamour, 'lighting from their chairs, Was marry'd to the Tunbridge-beau, I saw coquetting t' other night In public with that odious knight !" A petticoat without a hoop! For wit, I wonder, where it lies! "She's fair and clean, and that 's the most: But why proclaim her for a toast? A baby face: no life, no airs, But what she learn'd at country-fairs: Scarce knows what difference is between Thus, to the world's perpetual shame, Yet some of either sex, endow'd |