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[Illustration: DEAN SWIFT.]
IRISH WIT AND HUMOR,
ANECDOTE BIOGRAPHY
OF
SWIFT, CURRAN, O'LEARY AND O'CONNELL.
NEW YORK:
J. A. McGEE, 9 BARCLAY STREET.
1872.
Entered according to the act of Congress, in the year 1871, by
James McGee in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at
Washington.
Stereotyped at the New York Catholic Protectory, West Chester, N. Y.
CONTENTS.
DEAN SWIFT.
His Birth--Singular Event 9
A Certificate of Marriage 10
Grace after Dinner 11
The Three Crosses 13
Chief Justice Whitshed 12
To Quilca 16
Mr. Pulteney 16
Resolutions when I come to be Old 17
Miss Bennet 19
The Feast of O'Rourke 20
Swift's Behavior at Table 24
Countess of Burlington 25
Swift's Political Principles 27
Swift's Charity 29
Public Absurdity in Ireland 30
Swift's Peculiarity of Humor 30
Dr. Bolton 32
The Scriblerus Club 33
The Upstart 36
Meditation upon a broomstick 37
Cossing a Dog 39
Trade of Ireland 40
A Beggar's Wedding 41
The Pies--Short Charity Sermon 43
A Courtier's Retort--Lying 44
Dr. Sacheverell 45
Taxing the Air--Wisdom 46
Epitaph on Judge Boat 47
On Stephen Duck, the Thresher and Favorite Poet 47
Dialogue between Swift and his Landlord 48
Roger Cox 50
Roger and the Poultry 52
Kelly the Blacksmith 52
Birth-day Presents 53
The Dean's Contributory Dinner 56
Swift and Bettesworth 58
Swift among the Lawyers 61
Preaching Patriotism 61
Swift and his Butler 63
His Saturnalia 65
The Dean and Faulkner 66
Swift, Arbuthnot, and Parnell 67
Dean Swift and the Preacher who stole his sermon 69
Swift's queer Testimonial to his Servant 71
Swift at Thomastown 73
Swift's Last Lines 77
JOHN PHILPOT CURRAN.
His birth 79
Curran as Punch's Man 80
At a debating Society 80
The Bank--Duel with St. Leger 82
The Monks of the Screw 83
Lord Avonmore 84
His first Client 86
Curran and the Informer 89
Lord Clare 93
Curran's Eloquence 94
Scene between Fitzgibbon and Curran 96
Defence of Rowan 98
Encounter with a Fishwoman 114
Curran and Lord Erskine 114
Duel with Bully Egan 116
Massy versus Headfort 116
The Serenading Lover 121
Employment of Informers 128
Curran and the Farmer 130
Curran and the Judge 132
Curran's quarrel with Fitzgibbon 133
High Authority 136
Red Tape--Curran and the Mastiff 137
ARTHUR O'LEARY.
His birth 139
Controversy with an Infidel 140
Interview with Dr. Mann 144
Controversy with John Wesley 145
Meeting of O'Leary and Wesley 151
Dr. O'Leary and Father Callanan 152
O'Leary and the Quakers 154
His Reception by the Volunteers 155
O'Leary and John O'Keefe 157
O'Leary and the Irish Parliament 159
His Interview with Daniel Danser 162
A Fop 164
His Person--Captain Rock 166
Lots drawn to have him at dinner 168
Reply to charge of Recantation 171
O'Leary and the Rector 173
Lady Morgan 174
A Batch of Interesting Anecdotes 175
A Dog's Religion 179
Howard and Mr. Henry Shears 180
His Habits of study 181
Edmond Burke 182
His Charity 183
O'Leary versus Curran 184
His triumph over Dr. Johnson 186
A Nolle Prosequi 187
The Prince of Wales 188
The Closing Scenes of his Life 189
DANIEL O'CONNELL.
Darby Moran 193
A Dead Man with Life in Him 194
A Young Judge Done 196
O'Connell and a Snarling Attorney 197
His encounter with Biddy Moriarty 201
O'Connell and a Bilking Client 207
Sow-West and the Wigs 209
Election and Railway Dinners 211
Scene at Killiney 213
An Insolent Judge 214
A Witness Cajoled 216
His Duel with Captain D'Esterre 217
O'Connell and Secretary Goulburn 225
Entrapping a Witness 220
Gaining over a Jury 227
Paddy and the Parson 229
A Martial Judge 230
Retentive Memory 231
A Political Hurrah at a Funeral 233
Refusal of Office 233
A Mistaken Frenchman 234
Epistolary Bores 235
Sir R. Peel's Opinion of O'Connell 237
Anecdote of O'Connell's Uncle 237
A Slight Rebuke 238
IRISH WIT AND HUMOR.
DEAN SWIFT.
HIS BIRTH.
Dr. Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's, was born A.D. 1667,
in Hoey's Court, Dublin, the fourth house, right hand side, as you enter
from Werburgh-street. The houses in this court still bear evidence of
having been erected for the residence of respectable folks. The "Dean's
House," as it is usually designated, had marble chimney-pieces, was
wainscotted from hall to garret, and had panelled oak doors, one of
which is in possession of Doctor Willis, Rathmines--a gentleman who
takes a deep interest in all matters connected with the history of his
native city.
SINGULAR EVENT.
When Swift was a year old, an event happened to him that seems very
unusual; for his nurse, who was a woman of Whitehaven, being under the
absolute necessity of seeing one of her relations, who was then
extremely sick, and from whom she expected a legacy; and being extremely
fond of the infant, she stole him on shipboard unknown to his mother and
uncle, and carried him with her to Whitehaven, where he continued for
almost three years. For, when the matter was discovered, his mother sent
orders by all means not to hazard a second voyage till he could be
better able to bear it. The nurse was so careful of him that before he
returned he had learned to spell; and by the time that he was five years
old, he could read any chapter in the Bible.
After his return to Ireland he was sent at six years old to the school
of Kilkenny, from whence at fourteen he was admitted into the Dublin
University.
A CERTIFICATE OF MARRIAGE.
Swift, in one of his pedestrian journeys from London towards Chester, is
reported to have taken shelter from a summer tempest under a large oak
on the road side, at no great distance from Litchfield. Presently, a
man, with a pregnant woman, wore driven by the like impulse to avail
themselves of the same covert. The Dean, entering into conversation,
found the parties were destined for Litchfield to be married. As the
situation of the woman indicated no time should be lost, a proposition
was made on his part to save them the rest of the journey, by performing
the ceremony on the spot. The offer was gladly accepted, and thanks
being duly returned, the bridal pair, as the sky brightened, was about
to return: but the bridegroom suddenly recollecting that a certificate
was requisite to authenticate the marriage, requested one, which the
Dean wrote in these words:
Under an oak, in stormy weather,
I joined this rogue and wench together,
And none but he who rules the thunder,
Can put this wench and rogue asunder.
GRACE AFTER DINNER.
Swift was once invited by a rich miser with a large party to dine; being
requested by the host to return thanks at the removal of the cloth,
uttered the following grace:--
Thanks for this miracle!--this is no less
Than to eat manna in the wilderness.
Where raging hunger reign'd we've found relief,
And seen that wondrous thing, a piece of beef.
Here chimneys smoke, that never smok'd before,
And we've all ate, where we shall eat no more!
THE THREE CROSSES.
Swift in his journeys on foot from Dublin to London, was accustomed to
stop for refreshments or rest at the neat little ale-houses at the
road's side. One of these, between Dunchurch and Daventry, was formerly
distinguished by the sign of the _Three Crosses_, in reference to the
three intersecting ways which fixed the site of the house. At this the
Dean called for his breakfast, but the landlady, being engaged with
accommodating her more constant customers, some wagoners, and staying to
settle an altercation which unexpectedly arose, keeping him waiting, and
inattentive to his repeated exclamations, he took from his pocket a
diamond, and wrote on every pane of glass in her best room:--
TO THE LANDLORD.
There hang three crosses at thy door:
Hang up thy wife, and she'll make four.
CHIEF JUSTICE WHITSHED.
Swift, in a letter to Pope, thus mentions the conduct of this worthy
Chief Justice:--
"I have written in this kingdom a discourse to persuade the wretched
people to wear their own manufactures instead of those from England:
this treatise soon spread very fast, being agreeable to the sentiments
of a whole nation, except of those gentlemen who had employments, or
were expectants. Upon which a person in great office here immediately
took the alarm; he sent in haste to Lord Chief Justice Whitshed, and
informed him of a seditious, factious, and virulent pamphlet, lately
published, with a design of setting the two kingdoms at variance,
directing at the same time that the printer should be prosecuted with
the utmost rigor of the law. The Chief Justice had so quick an
understanding that he resolved, if possible, to outdo his orders. The
grand juries of the county and city were practised effectually with to
represent the said pamphlet with all aggravating epithets, for which
they had thanks sent them from England, and their presentments published
for several weeks in all the newspapers. The printer was seized, and
forced to give great bail: after this trial the jury brought him in _not
guilty_, although they had been culled with the greatest industry. The
Chief Justice sent them back nine times, and kept them eleven hours,
until, being tired out, they were forced to leave the matter to the
mercy of the judge, by what they call a special verdict. During the
trial, the Chief Justice, among other singularities, laid his hand on
his breast, and protested solemnly that the author's design was to bring
in the Pretender, although there was not a single syllable of party in
the whole treatise, and although it was known that the most eminent of
those who professed his own principles publicly disallowed his
proceedings. But the cause being so very odious and unpopular, the trial
of the verdict was deferred from one term to another, until, upon the
arrival of the Duke of Grafton, the Lord Lieutenant, his Grace, after
mature advice and permission from England, was pleased to grant a _nolle
prosequi_."
CHIEF JUSTICE WHITSHED'S MOTTO ON HIS COACH.
_Libertas et natale solum._
Liberty and my native country.
_Libertas et natale solum_;
Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em:
Could nothing but thy chief reproach
Serve for a motto on thy coach?
But let me now the words translate:
_Natale solum_:--my estate:
My dear estate, how well I love it!
My tenants, if you doubt, will prove it.
They swear I am so kind and good,
I hug them till I squeeze their blood.
_Libertas_ bears a large import:
First, how to swagger in a court;
And, secondly, to show my fury
Against an uncomplying Jury;
And, thirdly, 'tis a new invention
To favor Wood, and keep my pension:
And fourthly, 'tis to play an odd trick,
Get the Great Seal, and turn out _Brod'rick_.
And, fifthly, you know whom I mean,
To humble that vexatious Dean;
And, sixthly, for my soul to barter it
For fifty times its worth to Carteret.
Now since your motto thus you construe,
I must confess you've spoken once true.
_Libertas et natale solum_,
You had good reason when you stole 'em.
ON THE SAME UPRIGHT CHIEF JUSTICE WHITSHED.
In church your grandsire cut his throat:
To do the job too long he tarried,
He should have had my hearty vote,
To cut his throat before he married.
TO QUILCA.
This was a country house of Dr. Sheridan's, where Swift and some of his
friends spent a summer in the year 1725, and being in very bad repair,
Swift wrote the following lines on the occasion:--
Let me thy properties explain;
A rotten cabin dropping rain:
Chimneys with scorn rejecting smoke:
Stools, tables, chairs and bedsteads broke.
Here elements have lost their uses,
Air ripens not, nor earth produces:
In vain we make poor Shelah toil,
Fire will not roast, nor water boil.
Through all the valleys, hills, and plains,
The _goddess Want_ in triumph reigns;
And her chief officers of state;
Sloth, Dirt, and Theft, around her wait.
MR. PULTENEY.
Swift says, in a letter to Mr. Pulteney: "I will do an unmannerly thing,
which is to bequeath you an epitaph for forty years hence, in two words,
_ultimus Britannorum_. You never forsook your party. You might often
have been as great as the court can make any man so; but you preserved
your spirit of liberty when your former colleagues had utterly
sacrificed theirs; and if it shall ever begin to breathe in these days,
it must entirely be owing to yourself and one or two friends; but it is
altogether impossible for any nation to preserve its liberty long under
a tenth part of the present luxury, infidelity, and a million of
corruptions. We see the Gothic system of limited monarchy is
extinguished in all the nations of Europe. It is utterly extirpated in
this wretched kingdom, and yours must be next. Such has ever been human
nature, that a single man, without any superior advantages either of
body or mind, but usually the direct contrary, is able to attach twenty
millions, and drag them voluntarily at his chariot wheels. But no more
of this: I am as sick of the world as I am of age and disease. I live in
a nation of slaves, who sell themselves for nothing."
RESOLUTIONS WHEN I COME TO BE OLD.
These resolutions seem to be of that kind which are easily formed, and
the propriety of which we readily admit at the time we make them, but
secretly never design to put them in practice.
1. Not to marry a young woman.
2. Not to keep young company, unless they really desire it.
3. Not to be peevish, or morose, or suspicious.
4. Not to scorn present ways, or wits, or fashions, or men, or war, &c.
5. Not to be fond of children.
6. Not to tell the same story over and over to the same people.
7. Not to be covetous.
8. Not to neglect decency or cleanliness, for fear of falling into
nastiness.
9. Not to be over severe with young people, but to give allowance for
their youthful follies and weaknesses.
10. Not to be influenced by, or give ear to, knavish tattling servants,
or others.
11. Not to be too free of advice, nor trouble any but those who desire
it.
12. To desire some good friends to inform me which of these resolutions
I break or neglect, and wherein; and reform accordingly.
13. Not to talk much, nor of myself.
14. Not to boast of my former beauty or favor with ladies, &c.
15. Not to hearken to flatteries, or believe I can be beloved by a young
woman.
16. Not to be positive or opiniative.
17. Not to set up for observing all these rules, for fear I should
observe none.
MISS BENNET.
This lady was a celebrated beauty in her day, and often mentioned by
Swift. Dr. Arbuthnot thus speaks of her in one of his letters: "Amongst
other things, I had the honor to carry an Irish lady to court that was
admired beyond all the ladies in France for her beauty. She had great
honors done her. The hussar himself was ordered to bring her the King's
cat to kiss. Her name is Bennet."
This circumstance gave rise to the following lines by the Dean:--
For when as Nelly came to France,
(Invited by her cousins)
Across the _Tuileries_ each glance
Kill'd Frenchmen by whole dozens.
The king, as he at dinner sat,
Did beckon to his hussar,
And bid him bring his tabby cat
For charming Nell to buss her.
The ladies were with rage provok'd,
To see her so respected;
The men look'd arch as Nelly strok'd,
And puss her tail erected.
But not a man did look employ,
Except on pretty Nelly;
Then said the Duke de Villeroi,
Ah! _qu'elle est bien jolie_!
The courtiers all with one accord,
Broke out in Nelly's praises:
Admir'd her rose, and _lis sans farde_,
Which are your terms _Francaises_.
THE FEAST OF O'ROURKE.
Swift had been heard to say more than once that he should like to pass a
few days in the county of Leitrim, as he was told that the native Irish
in that part were so obstinately attached to the rude manners of their
ancestors, that they could neither be induced by _promises_, nor forced
by _threats_, to exchange them for those of their neighbors. Swift, no
doubt, wished to know what they would get by the exchange. Mr. Core was
resolved that the Dean should be indulged to the fullest extent of his
wish; for this purpose he had a person posted in Cavan, who was to give
him immediate notice when the Dean arrived in that town, which he
usually did once a year, and where he remained a day or two or longer,
if the weather was not fair enough to travel. The instant Mr. Gore was
informed of the Dean's arrival, he called and invited him to pass a few
days at a noble mansion which he had just finished on a wing of his own
estate in that county. The Dean accepted the invitation; and, as the
season was fine, every thing as he advanced excited his attention; for,
like other men, he was at times subject to "the skyey influence," and
used to complain of the winds of March, and the gloom of November.
Mr. Gore had heard so much of Swift's peculiar manners that he was
determined he should have his way in every thing; but was resolved,
however, that he should be entertained in the old Irish style of
hospitality, which Mr. Gore always kept up to such a degree, that his
house might be called a public inn without sign. The best pipers and
harpers were collected from every quarter, as well as the first singers,
for music is an essential ingredient in every Irish feast. The Dean was
pleased with many of the Irish airs, but was peculiarly struck with the
Feast of O'Rourke, which was played by Jeremy Dignum, the Irish
Timotheus, who swept the lyre with flying fingers, when he was told that
in the judgment of the Dean, he carried off the _spolia opima_ from all
the rest of the musical circle. The words of the air were afterwards
sung by a young man with so much taste and execution, that the Dean
expressed a desire to have them translated into English. Dr. Gore told
him that the author, a Mr. Macgowran, lived at a little distance, and
that he would be proud to furnish a literal translation of his own
composition either in Latin or English, for he was well skilled in both
languages. Mr. Gore accordingly sent for the bard, the Laureate of the
Plains, as he called himself, who came immediately. "I am very well
pleased," said the Dean, "with your composition. The words seem to be
what my friend Pope calls 'an echo to the sense.'" "I am pleased and
proud," answered Macgowran, "that it has afforded you any amusement: and
when you, Sir," addressing himself to the Dean, "put all the strings of
the Irish harp in tune, it will yield your Reverence a double pleasure,
and perhaps put me out of my senses with joy." Macgowran, in a short
time, presented the Dean with a literal translation, for which he
rewarded him very liberally, and recommended him to the protection of
Mr. Gore, who behaved with great kindness to him as long as he lived.
To this incident we are indebted for the translation of a song or poem,
which may be called a true picture of an Irish feast, where every one
was welcome to eat what he pleased, to drink what he pleased, to say
what he pleased, to sing what he pleased, to fight when he pleased, to
sleep when he pleased, and to dream what he pleased; where all was
native--their dress the produce of their own shuttle--their cups and
tables the growth of their own woods--their whiskey _warm from the still
and faithful to its fires_! The Dean, however, did not translate the
whole of the poem; the remaining stanzas were translated some years
since by Mr. Wilson, as follow:--
Who rais'd this alarm?
Says one of the clergy,
And threat'ning severely,
Cease fighting, I charge ye.
A good knotted staff,
The full of his hand,
Instead of the _Spiradis_,
Back'd his command.
So falling to thrash,
Fast as he was able,
A trip and a box
Stretch'd him under the table.
Then rose a big friar,
To settle them straight,
But the back of the fire
Was quickly his fate.
From whence he cried out,
Do you thus treat your _pastors_!
Ye that scarcely were bred
To the _sewn wise masters_;
That when with the Pope
I was getting my lore,
Ye were roasting potatoes
At the foot of _Sheemor_.
SWIFT'S BEHAVIOR AT TABLE.
Swift's manner of entertaining his guests, and his behavior at table,
were curious. A frequent visitor thus described them: He placed himself
at the head of the table, and opposite to a great pier glass, so that he
could see whatever his servants did at the marble side-board behind his
chair. He was served entirely in plate, and with great elegance. The
beef being once over-roasted, he called for the cook-maid to take it
down stairs and do it less. The girl very innocently replied that she
could not. "Why, what sort of a creature are you," exclaimed he, "to
commit a fault which cannot be mended?" Then, turning to one that sate
next to him, he said very gravely, that he hoped, as the cook was a
woman of genius, he should, by this manner of arguing, be able, in about
a year's time, to convince her she had better send up the meat too
little than too much done: at the same time he charged the men-servants,
that whenever they thought the meat was ready, to take it up, spit and
all, and bring it up by force, promising to assist them in case the cook
resisted. Another time the Dean turning his eye towards the
looking-glass, espied the butler opening a bottle of ale, and helping
himself. "Ha, friend," said the Dean, "sharp is the word with you, I
find: you have drunk my ale, for which I stop two shillings out of your
board wages this week, for I scorn to be outdone in any thing, even in
cheating."
COUNTESS OF BURLINGTON.
Swift was dining one day with the Earl of Burlington soon after his
lordship's marriage, when that nobleman, expecting some diversion from
Swift's oddities of behavior, purposely neglected to name him to his
lady, who was entirely ignorant of the Dean's person. The Dean
generally wore his gowns till they were quite rusty, which being the
case, she supposed him to be some clergyman of no great consequence.
After dinner, the Dean said to her, "Lady Burlington, I hear you can
sing; come, sing me a song." The Lady, disgusted with this unceremonious
way of asking such a favor, positively refused him. He said she could
sing, or he would make her. "What, madam, I suppose you take me for one
of your poor paltry English hedge-parsons; sing, when I bid you!" As the
Earl did nothing but laugh at his freedom, the lady was so vexed that
she burst into tears, and retired. His first compliment when he saw her
a little time afterwards was, "Pray, madam, are you as proud and
ill-natured now as when I saw you last?" To which she replied with the
greatest good humor, "No, Mr. Dean; I will sing for you now, if you
please." From this time he conceived the greatest esteem for her, and
always behaved with the utmost respect. Those who knew Swift, took no
offence at his bluntness of behavior. It seems Queen Caroline did not,
if we may credit his words in the verses on his own death.
SWIFT'S POLITICAL PRINCIPLES.
In a letter to Pope, alluding to the days when he took part in politics,
he thus expresses himself:--
"I had likewise in those days a mortal antipathy to standing armies in
times of peace. Because I always took standing armies to be only
servants, hired by the master of the family to keep his own children in
slavery; and because I conceived that a prince who could not think
himself secure without mercenary troops, must needs have a separate
interest from that of his subjects.
"As to Parliaments, I adored the wisdom of that Gothic institution which
made them annual, and I was confident that our liberty could never be
placed upon a firm foundation until that ancient law were restored among
us. For who sees not, that while such assemblies are permitted to have a
longer duration, there grows up a commerce of corruption between the
ministry and the deputies, wherein they both find account, to the
manifest danger of liberty; which traffic would neither answer the
design nor expense, if parliaments met once a year.
"I ever abominated that scheme of politics (now about thirty years old)
of setting up a moneyed interest in opposition to that of the landed:
for I conceived there could not be a truer maxim in government than
this, that the possessors of the soil are the best judges of what is for
the advantage of the kingdom. If others had thought the same way, funds
of credit and South Sea projects would neither have been felt nor heard
of.
"I could never see the necessity _of suspending any law_ upon which the
liberty of the most innocent persons depend: neither do I think this
practice has made the taste of arbitrary power so agreeable as that we
should desire to see it repeated. Every rebellion subdued, and plot
discovered, contributes to the firmer establishment of the Prince: in
the latter case, the knot of conspirators is entirely broken, and they
are to begin their work anew under a thousand disadvantages; so that
those diligent inquiries into remote and problematical guilt, with a new
power of enforcing them by chains and dungeons to every person whose
face a minister thinks fit to dislike, are not only opposite to that
maxim which declares it better that ten guilty men should escape than
one innocent suffer, but likewise leave a gate wide open to the whole
tribe of informers, the most accursed, and prostitute, and abandoned
race that God ever permitted to plague mankind."
SWIFT'S CHARITY.
One cold morning a poor ancient woman sat at the deanery steps a
considerable time, during which the dean saw her through a window, and,
no doubt, commiserated her desolate condition. His footman happened to
go to the door, and the poor creature besought him to give a paper to
his reverence. The servant read it, and told her his master had
something else to do than to mind her petition. "What is that you say,
fellow?" said the dean, putting his head out of the window; "come up
here directly." The man obeyed him, and was ordered to tell the woman to
come up to him. After bidding her to be seated, he directed some bread
and wine to be given to her; after which, turning round to the man, he
said, "At what time did I order you to open and read a paper directed to
me? or to refuse a letter from any one? Hark you, sirrah, you have been
admonished by me for drunkenness, idleness, and other faults; but since
I have discovered your inhuman disposition, I must dismiss you from my
service: so pull off your clothes, take your wages, and let me hear no
more of you."
PUBLIC ABSURDITIES IN IRELAND.
Among the public absurdities in Ireland, Swift notices the insurance
office against fire; the profits of which to the amount of several
thousand pounds, were annually remitted to England. "For," observes he,
"as if we could well spare the money, the society-marks upon our houses
spread faster and further than the colony of frogs; and we are not only
indebted to England for the materials to light our own fires, but for
engines to put them out."
SWIFT'S PECULIARITY OF HUMOR.
Trifles become of some consequence when connected with a great name, or
when they throw any light on a distinguished character. Spence thus
relates a story told by Pope: "Dr. Swift had an odd blunt way that is
mistaken by strangers for ill nature. It is so odd that there is no
describing it but by facts. I'll tell you one that first comes into my
head. One evening Gay and I went to see him: you know how intimately we
were all acquainted. On our coming in, "Hey-day, gentlemen (says the
Doctor), what's the meaning of this visit? How came you to leave all the
Lords that you are so fond of, to come here to see a poor Dean?"
"Because we would rather see you than any of them." "Ay, any one that
did not know you so well as I do, might believe you. But since you are
come, I must get some supper for you, I suppose." "No, Doctor, we have
supped already." "Supped already, that's impossible! why it is not eight
o'clock yet. That's very strange! But, if you had not supped, I must
have got something for you. Let me see what should I have had? A couple
of lobsters; ay, that would have done very well; two shillings: tarts, a
shilling. But you will drink a glass of wine with me, though you supped
so much before your usual time only to spare my pocket." "No, we had
rather talk with you than drink with you." "But if you had supped with
me, as in all reason you ought to have done, you must then have drank
with me. A bottle of wine, two shillings--two and two is four, and one
is five; just two and sixpence a piece. There, Pope, there's
half-a-crown for you; and there's another for you, Sir; for I won't save
any thing by you, I am determined." This was all said and done with his
usual seriousness on such occasions; and in spite of every thing we
could say to the contrary, he actually obliged us to take the money."
DR. BOLTON.
Dr. Theophilus Bolton was not only a learned divine, but a very fine
gentleman. His merit as a preacher was so eminent that it was early
rewarded with a mitre. Swift went to congratulate him on the occasion,
when he observed that as his lordship was a native of Ireland, and had
now a seat in the House of Peers, he hoped he would employ his eloquence
in the service of his distressed country. The prelate told him the
bishopric was but a very small one, and he could not hope for a better
if he disobliged the court. "Very well," said Swift; "then it is to be
hoped when you have a better you will become an honest man." "Ay, that
I will, Mr. Dean." "Till then, my lord, farewell," answered Swift. The
prelate was soon translated to a richer see, on which occasion Swift
called to remind him of his promise; but to no purpose: there was an
arch-bishopric in view, and till that was obtained nothing could be
done. Having in a few years attained this object likewise, he then
waited on the Dean, and told him, "I am now at the top of my preferment,
for I well know that no Irishman will ever be made primate; therefore,
as I can rise no higher in fortune or station, I will most zealously
promote the good of my country." From that he became a most active
patriot.
THE SCRIBLERUS CLUB.
Before Swift retired to Ireland, Mr. Pope, Dr. Arbuthnot, Mr. Gay, Mr.
Parnell, Mr. Jervas, and Swift formed themselves into a society called
the Scriblerus Club. They wrote a good many things in conjunction, and,
according to Goldsmith, Gay was usually the amanuensis. The connection
between these wits advanced the fame and interest of them all. They
submitted their several productions to the review of their friends, and
readily adopted alterations dictated by taste and judgment, unmixed with
envy, or any sinister motive.
When the members of the Scriblerus Club were in town, they were
generally together, and often made excursions into the country. They
generally preferred walking to riding, and all agreed once to walk down
to Lord Burlington's about twelve miles from town. It was Swift's custom
in whatever company he might visit to travel, to endeavor to procure the
best bed for himself. To secure that, on the present occasion, Swift,
who was an excellent walker, proposed, as they were leaving town, that
each should make the best of his way. Dr. Parnell, guessing the Dean's
intentions, pretended to agree; but as his friend was out of sight, he
took a horse, and arrived at his Lordship's by another way, before
Swift. Having acquainted his noble host with the other's design, he
begged of him to disappoint it. It was resolved that Swift should be
kept out of the house. Swift had never had the small-pox, and was, as
all his friends knew, very much afraid of catching that distemper. A
servant was despatched to meet him as he was approaching the gate, and
to tell him that the small-pox was raging in the house, that it would be
unsafe for him to enter the doors, but that there was a field-bed in the
summer house in the garden, at his service. Thither the Dean was under
the necessity of betaking himself. He was forced to be content with a
cold supper, whilst his friends, whom he had tried to outstrip, were
feasting in the house. At last after they thought they had sufficiently
punished his too eager desire for his own accommodation, they requested
his lordship to admit him into the company. The Dean was obliged to
promise he would not afterwards, when with his friends, attempt to
secure the best bed to himself. Swift was often the butt of their
waggery, which he bore with great good humor, knowing well, that though
they laughed at his singularities, they esteemed his virtues, admired
his wit, and venerated his wisdom.
Many were the frolics of the Scriblerus Club. They often evinced the
truth of an observation made by the poet, "_dulce est desipere in
loco_."
The time for wits to play the fool, is when they are met together, to
relax from the severity of mental exertion. Their follies have a degree
of extravagance much beyond the phlegmatic merriment of sober dulness,
and can be relished by those only, who having wit themselves, can trace
the extravagance to the real source.
This society carefully abstained from their frolics before the stupid
and ignorant, knowing that on no occasion ought a wise man to guard his
words and actions more than when in the company of fools.
How long the Scriblerus Club lasted is not exactly ascertained, or
whether it existed during the intimacy between Swift and Addison,
previous to the Doctor's connection with the Tory ministry.
THE UPSTART.
There was one character which, through life, always kindled Swift's
indignation, _the haughty, presuming, tyrannizing upstart_! A person of
this description chanced to reside in the parish of Laracor. Swift
omitted no opportunity of humbling his pride; but, as he was as ignorant
as insolent, he was obliged to accommodate the coarseness of the lash to
the callosity of the back. The following lines have been found written
by Swift upon this man:--
The rascal! that's too mild a name;
Does he forget from whence he came;
Has he forgot from whence he sprung;
A mushroom in a bed of dung;
A maggot in a cake of fat,
The offspring of a beggar's brat.
As eels delight to creep in mud,
To eels we may compare his blood;
His blood in mud delights to run;
Witness his lazy, lousy son!
Puff'd up with pride and insolence,
Without a grain of common sense,
See with what consequence he stalks,
With what pomposity he talks;
See how the gaping crowd admire
The stupid blockhead and the liar.
How long shall vice triumphant reign?
How long shall mortals bend to gain?
How long shall virtue hide her face,
And leave her votaries in disgrace?
----Let indignation fire my strains,
Another villain yet remains--
Let purse-proud C----n next approach,
With what an air he mounts his coach!
A cart would best become the knave,
A dirty parasite and slave;
His heart in poison deeply dipt,
His tongue with oily accents tipt,
A smile still ready at command,
The pliant bow, the forehead bland----
MEDITATION UPON A BROOMSTICK.
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. It is 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. It is now handled by every dirty wench,
condemned to do her drudgery, and by a capricious kind of fate, destined
to make her things clean, and be nasty itself. At length, worn out 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, _Surely, mortal man is a
broomstick_! 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 intemperance 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 upon his head;
but now, should this, _our broomstick_, pretend to enter the scene,
proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust,
though the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, 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 topsy-turvy creature,
his animal faculties perpetually mounted on his rational, his head where
his heels should be, groveling 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, * * 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 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.
COSSING A DOG.
In a humorous paper written in 1732, entitled, "An Examination of
certain Abuses, Corruptions, and Enormities in the city of Dublin,"
Swift mentions this diversion, which he ludicrously enough applies to
the violent persecutions of the political parties of the day. The
ceremony was this: A strange dog happens to pass through a flesh market;
whereupon an expert butcher immediately cries in a loud voice and proper
tone, _coss, coss_, several times. The same word is repeated by the
people. The dog, who perfectly understands the terms of art, and
consequently the danger he is in, immediately flies. The people, and
even his own brother animals, pursue: the pursuit and cry attend him
perhaps half a mile; he is well worried in his flight; and sometimes
hardly escapes. "This," adds Swift, "our ill-wishers of the Jacobite
kind are pleased to call a persecution; and affirm, that it always falls
upon dogs of the _Tory_ principles."
TRADE OF IRELAND.
Swift being one day at a sheriffs feast, among other toasts the chairman
called out, "Mr. Dean, the Trade of Ireland." The Dean answered, "Sir,
_I drink no memories_." The idea of the answer was evidently taken from
Bishop Brown's book against "Drinking the Memories of the dead," which
had just then appeared, and made much noise.
A BEGGAR'S WEDDING.
As Swift was fond of scenes in low life, he missed no opportunity of
being present at them when they fell in his way. Once when he was in the
country, he received intelligence that there was to be a beggar's
wedding in the neighborhood. He was resolved not to miss the opportunity
of seeing so curious a ceremony; and that he might enjoy the whole
completely, proposed to Dr. Sheridan that he should go thither disguised
as a blind fiddler, with a bandage over his eyes, and he would attend
him as his man to lead him. Thus accoutred, they reached the scene of
action, where the blind fiddler was received with joyful shouts. They
had plenty of meat and drink, and plied the fiddler and his man with
more than was agreeable to them. Never was a more joyful wedding seen.
They sung, they danced, told their stories, cracked jokes, &c., in a
vein of humor more entertaining to the two guests than they probably
could have found in any other meeting on a like occasion. When they were
about to depart, they pulled out the leather pouches, and rewarded the
fiddler very handsomely.
The next day the Dean and the Doctor walked out in their usual dress,
and found their companions of the preceding evening scattered about in
different parts of the road and the neighboring village, all begging
their charity in doleful strains, and telling dismal stories of their
distress. Among these they found some upon crutches, who had danced very
nimbly at the wedding, others stone-blind, who were perfectly
clear-sighted at the feast. The Doctor distributed among them the money
which he had received as his pay; but the Dean, who mortally hated these
sturdy vagrants, rated them soundly; told them in what manner he had
been present at the wedding, and was let into their roguery; and assured
them, if they did not immediately apply to honest labor, he would have
them taken up and sent to gaol. Whereupon the lame once more recovered
their legs, and the blind their eyes, so as to make a very precipitate
retreat.
THE PIES.
Swift, in passing through the county of Cavan, called at a homely but
hospitable house, where he knew he should be well received. The Lady
Bountiful of the mansion, rejoiced to have so distinguished a guest,
runs up to him, and with great eagerness and flippancy asks him what he
will have for dinner. "Will you have an apple-pie, sir? Will you have a
gooseberry-pie, sir? Will you have a cherry-pie, sir? Will you have a
currant-pie, sir? Will you have a plum-pie, sir? Will you have a
pigeon-pie, sir?" "Any pie, madam, but a _magpie_."
SHORT CHARITY SERMON.
The Dean once preached a charity sermon in St. Patrick's Cathedral,
Dublin, the length of which disgusted many of his auditors; which,
coming to his knowledge, and it falling to his lot soon after to preach
another sermon of the like kind in the same place, he took special care
to avoid falling into the former error. His text was, "He that hath pity
upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord, and that which he hath given will
he pay him again." The Dean, after repeating his text in a more than
commonly emphatical tone, added, "Now, my beloved brethren, you hear the
terms of this loan; if you like the security, down with your dust." The
quaintness and brevity of the sermon produced a very large contribution.
A COURTIER'S RETORT.
While the prosecution for the Draper's fourth letter was depending,
Swift one day waited at the Castle for an audience of Lord Carteret, the
Lord Lieutenant, till his patience was exhausted; upon which he wrote
the following couplet on a window, and went away:--
"My very good Lord, 'tis a very hard task,
For a man to wait here who has nothing to ask."
The Earl, upon this being shown to him, immediately wrote the following
answer underneath:--
"My very good Dean, there are few who come here,
But have something to ask, or something to fear."
LYING.
Swift could not bear to have any lies told him, which his natural
shrewdness and knowledge of the world generally enabled him to detect;
and when the party attempted to palliate them, his usual reply
was--"Come, come, don't attempt to darn your cobwebs."
DR. SACHEVERELL.
Some time after the expiration of Dr. Sacheverell's punishment, having
been silenced three years from preaching, and his sermon ordered to be
burned, the ministry treated him with great indifference, and he applied
in vain for the vacant rectory of St. Andrew's, Holborn. Having,
however, a slender acquaintance with Swift, he wrote to him for his
interest with government in his behalf, stating how much he had suffered
in the cause of the ministry. Swift immediately carried his letter to
Lord Bolingbroke, then Secretary of State, who railed much at
Sacheverell, calling him a busy intermeddling fellow; a prig and an
incendiary, who had set the kingdom in a flame which could not be
extinguished, and therefore deserved censure instead of reward. Although
Swift had not a much better opinion of the Doctor than Lord Bolingbroke,
he replied, "True, my Lord; but let me tell you a story. In a sea fight
in the reign of Charles the Second, there was a very bloody engagement
between the English and Dutch fleets, in the heat of which a Scotch
sea-man was very severely bit by a louse on his neck, which he caught;
and stooping down to crack it between his nails, many of the sailors
near him had their heads taken off by a chain-shot from the enemy, which
dashed their blood and brains about him; on which he had compassion upon
the poor louse, returned him to his place and bid him live there at
discretion, for as he had saved his life, he was bound in gratitude to
save his." This recital threw my Lord Bolingbroke into a violent fit of
laughing, who, when it was over, said, "The louse shall have the living
for your story." And soon after Sacheverell was presented to it.
TAXING THE AIR.
Lady Carteret, wife of the Lord Lieutenant, said to Swift, "The air of
Ireland is very excellent and healthy." "For God's sake, madam," said
Swift, "don't say so in England; for if you do, they will certainly tax
it."
WISDOM.
Wisdom (said the Dean) 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 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.
EPITAPH ON JUDGE BOAT.
Here lies Judge _Boat_ within a coffin,
Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffin';
A _Boat_ a judge! yes, where's the blunder
A _wooden_ Judge is no such wonder!
And in his robes you must agree,
No _Boat_ was better _dekt_ than he.
'Tis needless to describe him fuller,
In short he was an able _sculler_.
ON STEPHEN DUCK, THE THRESHER AND FAVORITE POET.
The thresher Duck could o'er the Queen prevail,
The proverb says, "_no fence against a flail_."
From _threshing_ corn he turns to _thresh his brains_,
For which her Majesty allows him gains.
Though 'tis confest, that those who ever saw
His poems, think them all not worth a straw!
Thrice happy Duck, employed in threshing _stubble_,
Thy toil is lessen'd and thy profits double.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN SWIFT AND HIS LANDLORD.
The three towns of Navan, Kells, and Trim, which lay in Swift's route on
his first journey to Laracor, seem to have deeply arrested his
attention, for he has been frequently heard to speak of the beautiful
situation of the first, the antiquity of the second, and the time-shaken
towers of the third. There were three inns in Navan, each of which
claims to this day the honor of having entertained Dr. Swift. It is
probable that he dined at one of them, for it is certain that he slept
at Kells, in the house of Jonathan Belcher, a Leicestershire man, who
had built the inn in that town on the English model, which still exists,
and, in point of capaciousness and convenience, would not disgrace the
first road in England. The host, whether struck by the commanding
sternness of Swift's appearance, or from natural civility, showed him
into the best room, and waited himself at table. The attention of
Belcher seems to have won so far upon Swift as to have produced some
conversation. "You're an Englishman, Sir?" said Swift. "Yes, Sir." "What
is your name?" "Jonathan Belcher, Sir." "An Englishman and Jonathan too,
in the town of Kells--who would have thought it! What brought you to
this country?" "I came with Sir Thomas Taylor, Sir; and I believe I
could reckon fifty Jonathans in my family, Sir." "Then you are a man of
family?" "Yes, Sir; I have four sons and three daughters by one mother,
a good woman of true Irish mould." "Have you been long out of your
native country?" "Thirty years, Sir." "Do you ever expect to visit it
again?" "Never." "Can you say that without a sigh?" "I can, Sir; my
family is my country!" "Why, Sir, you are a better philosopher than
those who have written volumes on the subject. Then you are reconciled
to your fate?" "I ought to be so; I am very happy; I like the people,
and, though I was not born in Ireland, I'll die in it and that's the
same thing." Swift paused in deep thought for near a minute, and then
with much energy repeated the first line of the preamble of the noted
Irish statute--_Ipsis Hibernis Hiberniores!_--"(_The English) are more
Irish than the Irish themselves_."
ROGER COX.