Swift’s happy illustration of a frequent cause of failure, drawn in the
reign of Queen Anne,—whose administrators were principally eminent
scholars,—is scarcely so applicable in our time. Men of great parts are
often unfortunate in the management of public business, because they are
apt to go out of the common road by the quickness of their imagination.
This Swift once said to Lord Bolingbroke, and desired he would observe
that the clerk in his office used a sort of ivory knife with a blunt
edge to divide a sheet of paper, which never failed to cut it even, only
requiring a steady hand; whereas, if they should make use of a sharp
penknife, the sharpness would make it go often out of the crease, and
disfigure the paper.
A model Court-letter has been preserved by singular accident. When Swift
was looking out for the prebend and sinecure of Dr. South, who was then
very infirm, he received the following letter from Lord Halifax, to whom
Addison had communicated Swift’s expectations:
“_October 6, 1709._
“Sir,—Our friend Mr. Addison telling me that he was to write to you
to-night, I could not let his packet go away without letting you
know how much I am concerned to find them returned without you. I am
quite ashamed, for myself and my friends, to see you left in a place
so incapable of testing you; and to see so much merit, and so great
qualities, unrewarded by those who are sensible of them. Mr. Addison
and I are entered into a new confederacy, never to give over the
pursuit, nor to cease reminding those who can serve you, till your
worth is placed in that light it ought to shine in. Dr. South holds
out still, but he cannot be immortal. The situation of his prebend
would make me doubly concerned in serving you; and upon all
occasions that shall offer, I will be your constant solicitor, your
sincere admirer, and your unalterable friend.—I am your most humble
and obedient servant,