"It is of moment to the general cause of religion and morality, that the greatest genius of the age was a man of the trueft piety and most exalted virtue."

The character of Swift as given by Dr. Johnson, is less favourable; and though it may be allowed to be, in fome inftances, uncandid and unjuft, it will by no means warrant the fevere and rancorous recrimination of Mr. Sheridan.

"When Swift is confidered as an author, it is just to estimate his powers by their effects. In the reign of Queen Anne, he turned the stream of popularity against the Whigs, and must be confessed to have dictated for a time the political opinions of the English nation. In the fucceeding reign, he delivered Ireland from plunder and oppreffion; and showed that wit, confederated with truth, had fuch force as authority was unable to refift. He said truly of himself, that Ireland" was his debtor." It was from the time when he first began to patronize the Irish, that they may date their riches and profperity. He taught them first to know their own intereft, their weight, and their strength, and gave them spirit to affert that equality with their fellow-fubjects to which they have ever fince been making vigorous advances, and to claim thofe rights which they have at last eftalished. Nor can they be charged with ingratitude to their benefactor; for they reverenced him as a guardian, and obeyed him as a dictator.

"In his works, he has given very different fpecimens, both of fentiments and expreffion. His Tale of a Tub has little refemblance to his other pieces. It exhibits a vehemence and rapidity of mind, ą copioufnefs of images, and vivacity of diction, fuch as he afterwards never poffeffed, or never exerted. It is of a mode so distinct and peculiar, that it must be confidered by itself: What is true of that, is not true of any thing else which he has written.

"In his other works, is found an equable tenour of eafy language, which rather trickles than flows. His delight was in fimplicity. That he has in his works no metaphor, as has been said, is not true; but his few metaphors feem to be received rather by neceffity than choice. He studied purity; and though perhaps all his ftrictures are not exact, yet it is not often that folecifms can be found; and whoever depends on his authority may generally conclude himfelf fafe. His fentences are never too much dilated or contracted; and it will not be eafy to find any embarraffment in the complication of his claufes, any inconfequence in his connections, or abruptness in his tranfitions.

His ftyle was well fuited to his thoughts, which are never fubtilized by nice difquifitions, decorated by sparkling conceits, elevated by ambitious fentences, or variegated by far-fought learning. He pays no court to the paffions; he excites neither furprife nor admiration; he always understands himself, and his readers always understand him. The perufer of Swift wants little previous knowledge; it will be fufficient that he is acquainted with common words and common things; he is neither required to mount elevations, nor to explore profundities; his paffage is always on a level, along folid ground, without afperities, without obftruction.

"This easy and safe conveyance of meaning it was Swift's defire to attain, and for having obtained it he deferves praife, though perhaps not the highest praise. For purposes merely didactic, when fomething is to be told that was not known before, it is the best mode, but against that inattention by which known truths are fuffered to lie neglected, it makes no provision: it instructs, but does not perfuade.

"By his political education, he was affociated with the Whigs; but he deferted them when they deferted their principles, yet without running into the contrary extreme; he continued throughout his life to retain the difpofition which he affigns to the Churcb-of-England Man, of thinking commonly with the Whigs of the state, and with the Tories of the church.

"He was a churchman rationally zealous; he defired the profperity, and maintained the honour of the clergy; of the diffenters he did not wish to infringe the toleration, but he opposed their encroachments.

"To his duty as Dean he was very attentive. He managed the revenues of his church with exact economy; and it is faid by Delany, that more money was, under his direction, laid out in repairs than had ever been in the fame time fince its first erection. Of his choir he was eminently careful; and, though he neither loved nor understood mufic, took care that all the fingers were well qualified, admitting none without the teftimony of skilful judges.

In his church he reftored the practice of weekly communion, and diftributed the facramental ele

ents in the most folemn and devout manner with his own hand. He came to church every morn ing, preached commonly in his turn, and attended the evening anthem, that it might not be negligently performed.

"He entered upon the clerical state with hope to excel in preaching; but complained, that, from the time of his political controverfies," he could only preach pamphlets." This cenfure of himself, if judgment may be made from those fermons which have been printed, was unreafonably fevere. "The fufpicions of his irreligion proceeded in a great measure from his dread of hypocrify; instead of wishing to feem better, he delighted in feeming worse than he was. He went in London to early prayers, left he should be feen at church; he read prayers to his fervants every morning, with fuch dexterous fecrecy, that Dr. Delany was fix months in his house before he knew it. He was not only careful to hide the good which he did, but willingly incurred the fufpicion of evil which he did not. He forgot what himself had formerly afferted, that hypocrify is lefs mifchievous than open impiety. Dr. Delany, with all his zeal for his honour, has justly condemned this part of his character. "The perfon of Swift had not many recommendations. He had a kind of muddy complexion, which, though he washed himself with oriental fcrupulofity, did not look clear. He had a counteDance four and fevere, which he feldom foftened by any appearance of gaiety. He ftubbornly refifted any tendency to laughter.

"To his domeftics he was naturally rough; and a man of a rigorous temper, with that vigilance of minute attention which his works difcover, must have been a mafter that few could bear. That he was difpofed to do his fervants good, on important occafions, is no great mitigation: benefaction can be but rare, and tyrannic peevishnefs is perpetual. He did not fpare the fervants of others. Once, when he dined alone with the Earl of Orrery, he faid, of one that waited in the room, "That man has, fince we fat to the table, committed fifteen faults." What the faults were, Lord Orrery, from whom I heard the story, had not been attentive enough to discover. My number may perlays not be exact.

"In his economy, he practifed a peculiar and offenfive parfimony, without difguife or apology. The practice of faving being once neceffary, became habitual, and grew firft ridiculous, and at laft deteftable. But his avarice, though it might exclude pleasure, was never fuffered to encroach upon his virtue. He was frugal by inclination, but liberal by principle; and if the purpose to which he deftined his little accumulations be remembered, with his diftribution of occafional charity, it will perhaps appear that he only liked one mode of expence better than another, and faved merely that he might have fomething to give. He did not grow rich by injuring his fucceffors, but left both Laracor and the Deanery more valuable than he found them.-With all this talk of his covetoufness and generofity, it should be remembered that he was never rich. The revenue of his deanery was not much more than 7001. a-year.

"His beneficence was not graced with tenderness or civility; he relieved without pity, and affifted without kindness; fo that those who were fed by him could hardly love him.

"He made a rule to himself to give but one piece at a time, and therefore always ftored his pocket with coins of different value.

"Whatever he did, he feemed willing to do in a manner peculiar to himself, without fufficiently confidering that fingularity, as it implies a contempt of the general practice, is a kind of defiance which justly provokes the hoftility of ridicule; he therefore who indulges peculiar habits is worfe than others, if he be not better.

"In the intercourfe of familiar life, he indulged his difpofition fo petulence and farcafm, and thought himself injured if the licentioufnefs of his raillery, the freedom of his cenfures, or the petulance of his frolics, was refented or repreffed. He predominated over his companions with very high afcendency, and probably would bear none over whom he could not predominate. To give him advice was, in the style of his friend Delany," to venture to speak to him." This customary fuperiority foon grew too delicate for truth; and Swift, with all his penetration, allowed himself to be delighted with low flattery.

"On all common occafions, he habitually affects a style of arrogance, and dictates rather than perfuades. This authoritative and magifterial language he expected to be received as his peculiar mode of jocularity: but he apparently flattered his own arrogance by an affumed imperioufnefs, in which he was ironical only to be refentful, and to the fubmiffive fufficiently ferious.

D

"He told flories with great felicity, and delighted in doing what he knew himself to do well; he was therefore captivated by the respectful filence of a steady liftener, and told the fame tales too often.

"He did not, however, claim the right of talking alone; for it was his rule, when he had spoken a minute, to give room by a pause for any other speaker. Of time, on all occafions, he was an exact computer, and knew the minutes required to every common operation.

It may be juftly fuppofed, that there was in his converfation, what appears fo frequently in his letters, an affectation of familiarity with the great, an ambition of momentary equality fought and enjoyed by the neglect of thofe ceremonies which cuftom has eftablifhed as the barriers between one order of fociety and another. This tranfgreffion of regularity was, by himself and his admirers, termed greatness of foul. But a great mind difdains to hold any thing by courtesy, and therefore never ufurps what a lawful claimant may take away. He then encroaches on another's dignity, puts himself in his power; he is either repelled with helpless indignity, or endured by clemency and condefcenfion.

"Of Swift's general habits of thinking, if his letters can be supposed to afford any evidence, he was not a man to be either loved or envied. He seems to have wafted life in discontent, by the rage of neglected pride, and the languifhment of unfatisfied defire. He is querulous and faftidious, arrogant and malignant; he fcarcely speaks of himself but with indignant lamentations, or of others but with infolent fuperiority when he is gay, and with angry contempt when he is gloomy. From the letters that pafs between him and Pope, it might be inferred that they, with Arbuthnot and Gay, had engroffed all the underflanding and virtue of mankind; that their merits filled the world; or that there was no hopes of more. They fhow the age involved in darkness, and fhade the picture with fullen emulation.

"When the Queen's death drove him into Ireland, he might be allowed to regret for a time the interception of his views, the extinction of his hopes, and his ejection from gay fcenes, important employment, and fplendid friendships; but when time had enabled reason to prevail over vexation, the complaints, which at firft were natural, became ridiculous because they were useless. But querulousness was now grown habitual, and he cried out when he probably had ceafed to feel. His reiterated wailings perfuaded Bolingbroke that he was really willing to quit his deanery for an Eng Lish parish; and Bolingbroke procured an exchange, which was rejected; and Swift ftill retained the pleasure of complaining.

"The greatest difficulty that occurs, in analyfing his character, is to discover by what depravity of intellect he took delight in revolving ideas, from which almost every other mind shrinks with difguft. The ideas of pleasure, even when criminal, may folicit the imagination; but what has difcafe, deformity, and filth. upon which the thoughts can be allured to dwell? Delany is willing to think that Swift's mind was not much tainted with this grofs corruption before his long vifit to Pope. He does not confider how he degrades his hero, by making him at fifty-nine the pupil of turpitude, and liable to the malignant influence of an afcendant mind. But the truth is, that Gulliver had defcribed his Yahoos before the visit; and he that had formed those images had nothing filthy to learn.

"In the poetical works of Dr. Swift there is not much upon which the critic can exercise his powers. They are often humorous, almost always light, and have the qualities which recommend fuch compositions, eafinefs and gaiety. They are, for the most part, what their author intended. The diction is correct, the numbers are fmooth, and the rhymes exact. There feldom occurs a hardlaboured expreffion, or a redundant epithet; all his verfes exemplify his own definition of a good ftyle, they confift of " proper words in proper places."

"To divide this collection into claffes, and fhow how fome pieces are grofs, and fome are trifling, would be to tell the reader what he knows already, and to find faults of which the author could not be ignorant, who certainly wrote not often to his judgment, but his humour.

<< It was faid, in a preface to one of the Irish editions, that Swift bad rever been known to take a fingle thought from any writer ancient or modern. This is not literally true; but perhaps no writer can easily be found that has borrowed fo little, or that in all his excellencies and all his defects has fo well maintained his claim to be confidered as original"

POEM S.

ODE

TO THEЕ

HONOURABLE SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE.

Written at Moor-Park, June 1689. VIRTUE, the greatest of all monarchies! Till, its first emperor rebellious man Depos'd from off his feat,

It fell, and broke with its own weight
Into fmall tates and principalities,

By many a petty lord poffefs'd,
But ne'er fince feated in one fingle breast!
'Tis you who must this land fubdue,
The mighty conqueft's left for you,
The conqueft and discovery too;
Search out this Utopian ground,
Virtue's Terra Incognita,
Where none ever led the way,
Not ever fince but in descriptions found,
Like the philofopher's ftone,
With rules to fearch it, yet obtain'd by none.

We have too long been led aftray;
Too long have our mifguided fouls been taught
With rules from mufty morals brought,
'Tis you must put us in the way;
Let us (for fhame!) no more be fed
With antique relics of the dead,
The gleanings of philofophy,

Philofophy, the lumber of the schools,

The roguery of alchemy;

And we, the bubbled fools,

And, fick with dregs of knowledge grown
Which greedily they fwallow down,

Still caft it up, and naufeate company.

Curst be the wretch! nay, doubly curft!
(If it may lawful be

To curfe our greatest enemy)
Who learnt himself that herefy first

(Which fince has feiz'd on all the reft)
That knowledge forfeits all humanity;
Taught us, like Spaniards, to be proud and poor;
And fling our fcraps before our door!
Thrice happy you have 'fcap'd this general peft;
Thofe mighty epithets, learn'd, good, and great,
Which we ne'er join'd before, but in romances
We find in yon at laft united grown. [meet;

You cannot be compar'd to one:

I muft, like him that painted Venus' face,
Borrow from every one a grace;
Virgil and Epicurus will not do,

Their courting a retreat like you,
Unless I put in Cæfar's learning too:

Your happy frame at once controla
This great triumvirate of fouls.
Let not old Rome boaft Fabius' fate;
He fav'd his country by delays,

But you by peace.

You bought it at a cheaper rate;
Nor has it left the ufual bloody fear,

To fhow it cost its price in war;

War! that mad game the world fo loves to play
And for it does fo dearly pay;

Spend all our prefent life in hopes of golden rules. For, though with lofs or victory a while

But what does our proud ignorance learning call?

We oddly Plato's paradox make good,
Our knowledge is but mere remembrance all;

Remembrance is our treafure and our food;
Nature's fair table-book our tender fouls,
We fcrawl all o'er with old and empty rules,
Stale memorandums of the fchools:
For learning's mighty treafures look
In that deep grave a book;

Think that the there does all her treafures hide,
And that her troubled ghoft ftill hunts there fince

The dy'd.

Confine her walks to colleges and fchools;

Her priests, her train, and followers ihow
As if they all were fpectres too!

They purchafe knowledge at th' expence
Of common breeding, common fenie,
And

grow at once scholars and fools;
Affe& ill-manner'd pedantry,
Roderefs, ill-nature, incivility,

VOL. IX.

Fortune the gamefters does beguile,
Yet at the laft the box fweeps all away.

Only the laurel got by peace

No thunder e'er can blaft:

Th' artillery of the skies

Shoots to the earth, and dies;

2

Not ever green and flourishing 't will laft, Nor dipt in blood, nor widow's tears, nor orphan's cries.

About the head crown'd with thefe bays,
Like lambent fire the lightning plays;
Nor, its triumphal cavalcade to grace,

Makes up its folemn train with death;
It melts the word of war, yet keeps it in the

fheath.

The wily fhifte of state, thofe juggler's tricks,
Which we call deep defigns and politics
(As in a theatre the ignorant fry,

Because the cords efcape their eye,
Wonder to fee the motions fly);