5
The Barstow
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17
LUCIUSU
HUBBARD
HOUGHTON
MICHIGAN
Hubbard
Imag. Voy.
PR
3720
+1768
ansat
Τ Η Ε
WORKS
OF
.
DR. JONATHAN SWIFT,
Dean of Sr. PATRICK'S, DUBLIN.
ܖ
WITH
The AUTHOR's Life and CHARACTER; NOTES
Hiftorical, Critical, and Explanatory; Tables of
CONTENTS, and Indexes.
More complete than any preceding Edition.
IN THIRTEEN VOLUMES.
Accurately corrected by the beſt Editions.
EDINBURGH:
Printed for A. DONALDSON, and fold at his Shop
(NO 195.) in the Strand, London
3
and at Edinburgh.
M.DCC.LXVIII,
Ree.
Lucius L. Hubbard
gt.
12 vol. of this set & 13 roko.
vol. 5 missing (here 3-22-49)
10- Ba-1922
489866-44, 468870-71
1
THE
WORKS
A
Dr. JONATHAN SWIFT,
DEAN of ST. PATRICK'S, DUBLIN,
V O L U ME I.
how.com
EDINBURGH:
Printed for A. DONALDSON, and fold at his Shops
in London and Edinburgh.
M.DCC.LXVIH.
[]
O@CHOWO
THE
EDITOR'S PREFACE,
T'
HE Works of Dr. JONATHAN SWIFT
have been univerſally admired, and
have paſſed through many editions,
boch in England and Ireland.
How they
have been received in Scotland, appears from
the quick ſale of four Scorch editions ſince the
year 1752. A fifth one is now offered to the
public, which it is hoped will meet with a fa-
vourable reception. As this edition is partly
upon a different plan, more complete, and il.
lustrated with a far greater number of notes,
than any that hath yet appeared in England;
we think it neceffary to give an account of
the method uſed in conducting it.
As to the arrangement of particular pieces
in each clafs, there were only three things
that ſeemed to deſerve attention, or that
epuld direct the choice; that the verfe and
profe ſhould be kept ſeparate ;. that the poſt-
humous and doubtful pieces ſhould not be
mingled wichthofe which the Dean is known
to have publiffied himſelf; and that thoſe
tracts, which are . parts of a regular ſeries,
aud illuftrate each ather, Ilxould be ranged in
à 3
fuccef-
vi The EDITOR'S PREFACE.
fucceffion, without the intervention of other
matter. Such are the Drapier's Letters, and
ſome other papers publiſhed upon the ſame
occaſion, which have not only in the Iriſh e-
dition, but in every other, been ſo mixed,
as to miſrepreſent ſome facts, and obſcure o
thers. Such alſo are the tracts on the Sacra.
mental teſt; which are now put together in
a regular order, as they ſhould always be
read, by thoſe who would ſee their whole
ſtrength and propriety.
As to the arrangement of the different
pieces, we have claffed them in the order
which appeared the moſt natural, according
to the plan pointed out by the Earl of Orrery,
and, as near as can be, in chronological or.
der. The firſt ten volumes contain what
were publiſhed in the author's lifetime, the
uth. 12th, and 13th volumes are a ſelection
from what is called The Poſthumous Works,
containing all that the original editor, Mr.
Falconer, has thought worthy of publica-
tion.
As to the Notes, this edition will be found
to contain double the number that is inſerted
London edition. Moſt part of thoſe
notes to which no name is annexed, are ta-
ken from the Dublin and other editions.
The greateſt part of the other notes are taken
from the Earl of Orrery's remarks on the life
and writings of Dr. Swift, Mr. Dean Swift's
Eflay on the ſame ſubject, and Warburton's
edition of Pope's Works. A few notes of
reference,
in any
The EDITOR'S PREFACE. vii
reference, and ſome hiſtorical remarks, are
inſerted by the editor. To foine of the large
extracts from Orrery and Swift, we have given
the title of Criticiſms; which are to be found
in the ift, 7th, and oth volumes. And care
has been taken not to omit any remark of
importance contained in the writings of theſe
authors upon any piece of Swift's works.
Dr. Hawkeſworth's edition of this celebrat-
ed author, has been juftly eſteemed; yet,
upon conipariſon, this one will be found to
contain ſeveral pieces, both in verſe and proſe,
not inſerted in his; beſides other advantages
of Indexes, & C.
As to the Life of Dr. Swift, many accounts
have been publiſhed of it. Theſe have mu-
tually reflected light upon each other, aſcer-
tained controverted facts, and rectified mife
takes, which, if they had ſtill been tradi-
tional and oral, would ſtill have been believ-
ed. Several little incidents, which ſhewed
the peculiarities of his converſation and do-
meſtic life, were related by Mrs. Pilkington,
in her memoirs ; though theſe could be be-
lieved only in proportion as they verified
themſelves. Lord Orrery's letters contained
many of the principal events, intermingled
with many characteriſtic incidents, ſupported
in general upon better authority ; but ſome-
times founded upon falſe information. Some
of theſe miſtakes were detected by a volume
of letters ſigned J. R. in which were alſo
ſome new materials; and the account lince
publiſhed
viii The EDITOR'S PREFACE. .
publiſhed by Mr. Swift, with an imperfect
fketch by the Dean himſelf, has furniſhed yet
more. It was not thought neceffary (ſays he)
to relate every trifling particular that has
been recorded, but only to ſelect ſuch as
will ſufficiently diſtinguiſh the peculiarities
of his character and manners, and tranſmit
a knowledge of him to pofterity, of the fame
kind, if not in the ſame degree, as was ob-
tained by thoſe among his contemporaries,
who were admitted to his converiation and
friendſhip
In the account of Dr. Swift's Life, feveral
anecdotes, and different relations of particu-
lar incidents, are thrown into notes; and fome
critical remarks on his character, taken front
Lord Orrery and Mr. Swift, are now added.
An abridgement of Mrs. Pilkington's account
is annexed. In the tenth voluine, immedi-
ately after the Dean's Will, are two letters
deſcribing his furioſity. After which is given
Lord Omrery's account of Swift's death, and
his Lordſhip's differtation on lunacy and idi-
otifm, occalioned by the melancholy fituation
of the Dean's underſtanding, fome years be-
fore his death.
In works of great extent, che utilicy of in-
dexes is obvicus to every reader, and the
waņt is generally complained of: Yet few of
the London editions have any index. There-
fore, to ſupply ſo material a defect, three in-
dexes are annexed to the tenth volume. Tlie
firſt is of the titles of the pieces in profe;
the
The EDITOR'S PREFACE.
ix
the ſecond, of thoſe of the poetry; and the
third is of the principal matters.
Beſides
theſe indexes, unto volume 13th is added an
index to the three volumes of Pofthumous
Works.
Care has been taken to print this edition
as correctly as poſſible, and it is hoped, that,
in point of accuracy, it will not be found in-
ferior to any former one. In ſhort, no pains
or expence have been ſpared to render this a
complete and correct edition of the Works
of the celebrated Dean of St. Patrick's.
Edinburgh, Decem. 26,
1768.
THE
[ xi ]
# AXES************
Τ Η Ε
L I F E
OF
Mr. JONATHAN SWIFT,
Late Dean of St. PATRICK'S, DUBLIN.
R. JONATHAN SWIFT, an illuſtrious
Engliſh wit, and juſtly celebrated alſo
for his political knowledge, was descended
from a very ancient family, and born on the
30th of November 1667. His grandfather,
Mr. Thomas Swift, was vicar of Goodrich in
Herefordſhire, and married Mrs. Elizabeth
Dryden, aunt of Dryden the poet; by whom
he had ſix ſons, Godwin, Thomas, Dryden,
William, Jonathan, and Adam. Thomas
was bred at Oxford, but died young; God.
win was a barriſter of Gray’s-Inn; and Wil
liam, Dryden, Jonathan, and Adam, were
attornies. Godwin having married a rela-
sion of the old Marchionefs of Ormond, che
old Duke of Ormond made him his attorney .
general
xii
The LIFE of
general in the palatinate of Tipperary in Ire-
land. Ireland was at this time almoſt with-
out lawyers, the rebellion having converted
men of all conditions into ſoldiers. Godwin
therefore determined to attempt the acquiſition
of a fortune in that kingdom, and the ſame mo.
tive induced his four brothers to go with him.
Jonathan, at the age of about twenty-three,
and before he went into Ireland, married Mrs.
Abigail Erick, a gentlewoman of Leiceſter-
ſhire; and about two years after left her a
widow with one child, a daughter, and preg-
nant with another, having no means of ſub-
fiftence but an annuity of 201. which her
huſband had purchaſed for her in England,
immediately after his marriage. In this di-
ſtreſs ſhe was taken into the family of God-
win, her huſband's eldeſt brother; and there,
about ſeven months after his death, deliver-
ed of a ſon, whom ſhe called Jonathan, in
remembrance of his father, and who was
afterwards the celebrated Dean of St. Pa-
trick's.
It happened, by whatever accident, that
Jonathan was not ſuckled by his mother, but
by a nurſe, who was a native of Whitehaven,
and when he was about a year old, her affec-
tion for him was become ſo ſtrong, that-find-
ing it neceffary to viſit a fick relation there,
the carried him with her, without the know-
ledge of his mother or uncle. At this place
he continued about three years; for, when
the matter was diſcovered, his mother ſent
orders
1
DR. SWIFT.
xiii
orders not to hazard a ſecond voyage, till he
Thould be better able to bear it. Mrs. Swift,
about two years after her huſband's death,
quitted the family of Mr. Godwin Swift in
Treland, and retired to Leiceſter, the place
of her nativity ; but her ſon was again car-
ried to Ireland by his nurſe, and replaced
under the protection of his uncle Godwin.
It has been generally believed, that Swift was
born in England; and, when the people of
Ireland diſpleaſed him, he has been heard to
ſay, “I am not of this vile country, I am an
Engliſhman:" but this account of his birth
is taken from that which he left behind him in
his own hand-writing. Some have alſo
thought that he was a natural ſon of Sir Wil-
liam Temple, becauſe Sir William exprefled
a particular regard for him: but that was im-
poſible ; for Sir William was reſident abroad
in a public character from the year 1665, to
1670; and his mother, who was never out of
the Britiſh dominions, brought him into the
world in 1667
Ac about fix years of age he was ſent to the
ſchool of Kilkenny, and having continued
there eight years, he was admitted a ſtudent
of Trinity college in Dublin. Here applying
himſelf to books of history and poetry,
to the neglect of academic learning, he was
at the end of four years, refuſed his degree
of bachelor of arts for inſufficiency; and was
at laſt admitted ſpeciali gratia, which is there
conſidered as the higheſt degree of reproach
Vol. I.
b
and
xiv
The LIFE of
and diſhonour. Stung with the diſgrace, he
ſtudied eight hours a day, for ſeven years fol-
lowing, He commenced theſe ſtudies at the
univerlity of Dublin, where he continued them
three years: and, during this time, he drew
up the firſt sketch of his Tale of a Tub; for
Waffenden Warren, Eſq; a gentleman of for-
tune near Belfaſt in Ireland, who was chamber-
fellow with Swift, declared that he then ſaw
a copy of it in Swift's own hand-writing.
In 1688, his uncle Godwin was ſeized with
a lethargy, and foun deprived both of his
ſpeech and memory: by which accident Swift
being left without ſupport, took a journey
to Leiceſter, that he might conſult with his
mother what courſe of life to purſue. At
this cime Sir William Temple was in high
reputation, and honoured with the confidence
and familiarity of King William. His father,
Sir John Temple, had been maſter of the rolls
in Ireland, and contracted an intiinate friend-
ſhip with Godwin Swift, which continued till
his death; and Sir William, who inherited
his title and ſtate, had married a lady to
whom Mrs. Swift was related; the therefore
adviſed her ſon to compiunicate his Gtuation
to Sir William, and follicit his direction what
to do. Sir William received him with great
kindneſs, and Swift's firſt viſit continued two
years. Sir William had been ambaſſador and
mediator of a general peace at Nimeguen be-
fore the Revolution, in which character he
became known to the Prince of Orange, who
frequently
DR. SWIFT.
xv
frequently viſited him at Sheen, after his ar-
rival in England, and took his advice in af-
fairs of the utmoſt importance. Sir William
being then lame with the gout, Swift uſed
to attend his Majeſty in the walks about the
garden, who admitted him to ſuch familiari-
ty, that he ſhewed him how to cut aſparagus
after the Dutch manner, and once offered to
make him a captain of horſe; but Swift had
fixed his mind upon an eccleſiaſtical life.
About this time a bill was brought into the
houſe for triennial parliaments, to which the
King was very averſe, but fent however to
conſult Sir William Temple, who ſoon after-
wards fent Swift to Kenſington with the
whole account in writing, to convince the King
how ill he was adviſed. This was Swift's
firſt embaffy to court, who, though he under-
ſtood Engliſh hiſtory, and the matter in hand
very well, yet did not prevail. Soon after this
tranſaction he was ſeized with the return of
a diſorder, which he had contracted in Ireland,
by eating a great quantity of fruit, and which
afterwards gradually increaſed, though with
irregular intermiſlions, till it terminated in a
total debility of body and mind.
About a year after his return from Ireland, ,
he thought it expedient to take his maſter of
arts degree at Oxford; and accordingly was
admitted ad eundem on the 14th of June 1692,
with many civilities. Theſe, ſome ſay, pro-
ceeded from a miſunderſtanding of the words,
Speciali gratia, in his teſtimonium from Dublin,
which
b 2
xvi
The LIFE of
which were there ſuppoſed to be a compli-
ment paid to uncommon merit; but are
more probably aſcribed by others to his
known conndition with Sir William. Temple:
It is eaſy to conceive, however, that Swift,
after his reputation was eſtabliſhed, might
while he was ſporting with this incident in the
gaiety of his heart, pretend a miſtake which
never happened. From Oxford he returned to
Sir William Temple, and allitted him in revi.
fing his works: He alſo corrected and im.
proved his own Tale of a Tub, and added the
Digrellions. From the converfation of Sir
William, Swift greatly increaſed his political
knowledge: but ſuſpecting Sir William of
neglecting to provide for him, merely that
he might keep him in his family, he at length
refented it fo warmiy, that, in 1694, a quar-
rel enſued, and they parted.
Swift, during his reſidence with Sir Wil-
liam, had never failed to viſit his mother at
Leiceſter once a year, and his manner of travel-
ling was very extraordinary. He always went
on fcot, except when the weather was very
bad, and then he would ſometimes take ſhel-
ter in a waggon. He choſe to dine at obſcure
ale-houſes among pedlars and oftlers, and to
lie where he ſaw written over the door, lod-
gings for a penny; but he uſed to bribe the
maid with a teſter for a ſingle bed, and clean
ſheets.
His reſolution was now to take orders: and
ſoon after obtained a recommendation to
Lord
DR. SWIFT.
xvii
-
Lord Capel, then lord.deputy of Ireland,
who gave him the prebend of Kilroot, in the
dioceſe of Connor, worth about 100l. per
annuin. But Sir William, who had been uſed
to the converſation of Swift, ſoon found that
he could not be content to live without him ;
and therefore urged him to relign his pre-
bend in favour of a friend, proniiling to ob.
tain preferment for him in England, if he
wouid return. Swift contented, and Sir Wil-
liam was ſo well pleaſed with this act of kind-
neſs, that, during the remainder of his life,
which was about four years, his behaviour
was ſuch as produced the utmoſt harmony be-
tween them. Swift, as a teſtimony of his
friendſhip and esteem, wrote the Battle of the
Books, of which Sir Williain is the hero; and
Sir William, when he died, left him a pecu--
niary legacy, and his poſthumous work's*.
Upon the death of Sir William Temple,
Swift applied by petition to King William,
for the firſt vacant prebend of Canterbury or
Weltminſter, for which the royal promiſe
had been obtained by his late patron, whefu
pofthumous works he dedicated to his Majel-
ty, to facilitate the fucceſs of that application.
But it does not appear, that, after the death
of Sir William, the King, took the leaſt no-
tice of Swift After this he accepted an in-
vication from the Earl of Berkeley, appointed
* Two volumes of Sir William's Letters, which
he dedicated to his Majeſty.
b3
one
xviii
The LIFE of
one of the lords juſtices of Ireland, to attend
him as chaplain and private ſecretary; but he
was ſoon removed from this poſt, upon a pre-
tence that it was not fit for a clergyman. This
diſappointment was preſently followed by ano-
ther; for when the deanry of Derry becane
vacant, and it was the Earl of Berkeley's turn
to diſpoſe of it, Swift, inſtead of receiving it
as an atonement for his late uſage, was put
off with the livings of Laracor and Rathbeg-
ging, in the dioceſe of Meth, which together
did not amount to half its value. He went to
reſide at Laracor, and performed the duties
of a pariſh prieſt with the utmoſt punctuality
and devotion. He was indeed always very de-
vout, not only in his public and folemn addreſ-
ſes to God, but in his domeſtic and private
exerciſes: and yet, with all his piety in his
heart, he could not forbear indulging the pe-
culiarity of his humour, when an opportunity
offered, whatever might be the impropriety
of the time and place. Upon his coming to
Laracor, he gave public notice, that he would
read prayers on Wedneſday and Friday, which
had not been the cuſtom; and accordingly
the boll was rung, and he aſcended the de îk.
But, having ſat ſome time with no other au-
ditor than his clerk Roger, he began, “ Dear-
“ ly beloved Roger, the ſcripture moveth
you and me in fundry places;" and ſo pro-
ceeded to the end of the ſervice. Of the ſame
kind was his race with Dr. Raymond, vicar
of
DR. SWIFT.
xix
of Trim, ſoon after he was made dean of St.
Patrick's. Swift had dined one Sunday with
Raymond, and when the Bells had done ring-
ing for evening prayers, “Raymond,” ſays
Swift. “I will lay you a crown, that I will
“ begin prayers before you this afternoon.”.
Dr. Raymond accepted the wager, and inime-
diately both ran as faſt as they could to the
church. Raymond, the nimbler of the two,
arrived firſt at the door, and when he entered
the church, walked decently towards the
reading deſk : Swift neyer flackened his pace,
but running up the iſle, left Raymond behind
him ; and ſtepping into the deſk, without put-
ting on the ſurplice, or opening the book, be-
gan
the ſervice in an audible voice.
During Swift's reſidence at Laracor, he in
vited to Ireland a lady, whom he has celebra-
ted by the name of Stella. With this lady he
became acquainted while he lived with Sir
William Temple : She was the daughter of
his ſteward, whoſe name was Jubnion; and
Sir William, when he died, left her 100: li
in conſideration of her father's faithful fervi-
ces. At the death of Sir William, which hap-
pened in 1699, ſhe was in the 16th year of her
age; and it was about two years afterwards,
that, at Swift's invitation, the left England,
accompanied by Mrs. Dingley *, a lady who
* The Doctor gave her fifty guineas a year, and
left her by his will an annuity of twenty pounds.
was
XX
The LIFE of
was fifteen years older, and whoſe whole fora
tune, though ſhe was related to Sir William
Temple, was no more than an annuity of 271.
Whether Swift at this time deſired the compa.
ny of Stella as a wife, or a friend, is not cer-
tain; but the reaſon which ſhe and her com-
panion then gave for their leaving England
was, that in Ireland the intereſt of money was
high, and proviſions were cheap. But what-
ever was Swifi's attachment to Miſs Johnſon,
every poſſible precaution was taken to prevent
fcandal: they never lived in the ſame houſe;
when Swift was abfent, Miis Johnſon and her
friend reſided at the parſonage; when he re-
turned, they removed cither to his friend Dr.
Raymond's, or to a lodging; neither were they
ever known to meet, but in the preſence of a
third perſon. Swift made frequent excurſions
to Dublin, and tome to London, but Miſs
Johnſon was buried in ſolitude and obſcurity;
ſhe was known only to a few of Swift's moſt
intimate acquaintance, and had no female
companion except Mrs. Dingley.
In 1701, Swift took his doctor's degree, and
in 1702, foon after the death of King. Wil-
liam, he went into England for the firſt time
after his ſeruling at Laracor ; a journey which
he frequently repeated during the reign of
Queen Anne. Miſs Johnſon was once in
England in 1705, but returned in a few
months, and never croſſed the channel afrer-
wards. He ſcon became eminent as a writer,
and
DR. SWIFT.
xxi
and in that character was known at leaſt to
boch Whigs and Tories. He had been edu-
cated among the former, but at length attach-
ed himſelf to the latter : becauſe the Whigs,
as he ſaid, had renounced their old princi-
ples, and received others, which their forefa-
ther abhorred. He publiſhed, in 1701, " A
diſcourſe of the conteſts and diffentions be-
tween the nobles and commons in Athens and
Rome, with the conſequences they had upon
both thoſe ſtates:" This was in behalf of King
William and his minifters, againſt the vio-
lent proceedings of the Houle of Commons;
but from that year to 1708, he did not write
any political pamphlet *.
In 1710, being then in England, he was
impowered by the Primate of Ireland, to fo-
licit the Queen to releaſe the clergy from
paying the twentieth part and firſt fruits; and
upon this occaſion his acquaintance with Mr.
Harley commenced. As ſoon as he had re-
ceived the Primate's inſtructions, he reſolved
to apply to Mr. Harley; and, before he
waited on him, got himielf'repreſented as a
perſon who had been ill uſed by the laſt mi-
niſtry, because he would not go ſuch lengths
as they would have had him. Mr. Harley
a
* In the year 1708, he publiſhed ſeveral political
wori's under the name of Iſaac Bickerſtaff, Eſq; which
name was afterwards aſſumed by Sir Richard Steel, to
recowmend his Tatlers to the world. Biographia Bri
lunnica.
received
xxii
The LIFE of
received him with the utmoſt kindneſs and
reſpect; kept him with him two hours alone;
engaged in, and ſoon after accompliſhed, his
bulineſs; bid hin, come often to ſee him pri-
vately; and told him, that he muſt bring him
to the knowledge of Mr. St. John. Swift
prefently becaine acquainted with the reſt of
the miniſters, who appear to have courted
and carefled him with uncommon aſſiduity.
He dined every Saturday at Mr. Harley's
with the Lord Keeper, Mr. Secretary St.
John, and Lord Rivers : on that day no other
perſon was for ſome time admitted, but this
ſelect company was at length inlarged to fix-
teen, all men of the firſt claſs, Swift includ-
ed. From this time he ſupported the intereſt
of his new friends with all his power, in pam-
phlets, poems, and periodical papers : his in-
tirnacy with them was ſo remarkable, that he
was thought not only to defend, but in ſome
degree to direct their meaſures; and ſuch was
his importance in the opinion of the oppoſite
party, that many ſpeeches were made againſt
him in both houles of parliament; a reward
was alſo offered, for diſcovering the author
of the Public Spirit of the Whigs.
Amidſt all the buGneſs and honours that
crowded upon him, he wrote every day an ac-
count of what occurred to Stella; and fent
her a journal regularly, dated every fortnight
during the whole time of his connection with
Queen Anne's miniſtry. From theſe unre-
ſtrained effuſions of his heart many particu-
Lars
..
DR. SWIFT
xxiii
.
lars are known, which would otherwiſe bave
lain hid; and by theſe it appears, that he
was not only employed, but truſted, even by
Harley himſelf, who, to all others, was re-
ferved and myſterious. In the mean time,
Swift had no expectations of advantage from
his connections with theſe perſons : he knew
they could not long preſerve their power;
and he did not honour it while it laſted, on
account of the violent meaſures which were
purſued by both ſides. “I uſe the mini-
ftry," ſays he,“ like dogs, becauſe I ex-
pect they will uſe me.fo.I never knew
a miniſtry do any thing for thoſe whom
they make companions of their pleaſures ;
« but I care not." In the ſummer of 1711,
he foreſaw the ruin of the miniſtry by thoſe
miſunderſtandings among themſelves, which
at laſt effected it, and it was not only his o-
pinion, but their own, that if they could not
carry a peace, they muſt loon be ſent to the
Tower, even though they ſhould agree. In
order therefore to facilitate this great event,
Swift wrote the conduct of the allies : a piece,
which he confeffes coſt him much pains, and
which ſucceeded even beyond his expectati-
ons. It was publiſhed on the 27th of No-
vember 1711; and in two months time above
11,000 were fold off, feven editions having
been printed in England, and three in Ire-
land. The Tory members in both houſes,
who ſpoke, drew all their arguments from it;
and the reſolutions, which were printed in
the
:
xxiv
The LIFE of
the votes, and which would never have paff.
ed but for this pamphlet, were little more
than quotations from it. From this time to
1713, he exerted himſelf with unwearied di-
ligence in the ſervice of the miniſtry; and
while he was at Windſor, juſt at the conclu-
fion of the peace of Utrecht, he drew the firſt
ſketch of An Hiſtory of the four lalt years of
Queen Anne.
This he afterwards finiſhed,
and came into England to publiſh, but was
diſſuaded from it by Lord Bolingbroke, who
told him, the whole was ſo much in the ſpirit
of party-writing, that though it might have
made a fealonable pamphlet in the time of
their adminiſtration, it wivuld be a diſhonour
to juſt hiſtory. Swift ſeems to have been ex-
tremely fond of this work, by declaring, as
he did, that it was the beſt thing he had ever
written : but ſince his friend did not approve
it, he would caſt it into the fire. However,
it did not undergo this fate, but was lately
publiſhed in octavo, to the diſappointment of
all thoſe who expected any thing great from
it.
During all this time he received no gratui.
ty or reward, till the year 1713; and then he
accepted the deanry of St. Patrick's Dublin *.
* This promotion was thought to be a diſappoint-
ment to him, as he expected a biſhopric in England;
but the Earl of Oxford did not think it proper to offend
the oppoſite party, by bringing him into the Houſe of
Lords, where he would, no doubt, have made a fie
gure as a ſpeaker.
1
A bi-
DR. SWIFT.
XXV
A biſhopric had been ſome time before intend-
ed for him by the Queen; but Archbiſhip
Sharpe having repreſented him to her Majeſty
as a man whole Chriſtianity was very question-
able, and being ſupported in this by a certain
very great lady, it was given to another.
He immediately croſſed the channel to take
poffeſſion of his new dignity, but did not ſtay
in Ireland more than a fortnight, being ur-
ged by an hundred letters to haften back, and
reconcile the Lords Oxford and Bolingbroke.
When he returned, he found their animoſity
increaſed ; and, having predicted their ruin
from this very caule, he laboured to bring a-
bout a reconciliation, as that upon which the
whole intereſt of their party depended. Ha-
ving attempted this by various methods in
vain, he went to a friend's houſe in Berk-
thire, where he continued till the Queen's
deach; and, while he was at this place, wrote
a diſcourſe, called, " Free thoughts on the
preſent ſtate of affairs," which, however, was
not publiſhed till fome time after.
before we attend Swift to Ireland, it is ne.
ceſſary to give a little hiſtory of his Vanefla;
becauſe his connections with her were made
in England. Among other perſons, with
whom he was intimately acquainted during
the gay part of his life, was Mrs. Vanhom-
righ. She was a lady of good family in Ire-
land, and became the wife of Mr. Vanhom-
righ, firft a merchant of Amſterdam, then of
Dublin, where he was raiſed by King Wil-
VOL. I.
liam
.
C
Xxvi
The LIFE of
liam, upon his expedition into Ireland, te
very great places. Dying in 1703, he left
two ſons and two daughters; but the fons
foon after dying, his whole fortune, which
was conſiderable, fell to the daughters. In
1709, the widow and the two young ladies
caire to England, where they were viſited by
perions of the firſt quality; and Switi, lody-
ing near then, uſed to be niuch there, com-
ing and going without any ceremony, as if
he had been one of the family. During this
familiarity, he became inſenſibly a kind of
preceptor to the young ladies, particularly
the eldeſt, who was then about twenty years
old, was much addicted to reading, and a
great admirer of poetry. Hence admiring,
as was natural, ſuch a character as that of
Swift, ſhe foon paſſed froni admiration to
love; and urged a little perhaps by vanity,
which would have been highly gratified by
an alliance with the firſt wit of the age, Mhe
ventured to make the Doctor a propoſal of
marriage. He affected firſt to believe her in
jest, then to rally her on ſo whimſical a choice,
and at laſt to put her off without an abſolute
refuſal; and, while he was in this ſituation,
he wrote the poem, called, “ Cadenus and
" Vaneſſa.” It was written in 1713, a ſhort
time before he left Vaneſſa, and the reſt of
his friends in England, and returned to the
place of his exile, as he uſed frequently to
call it. In 1714, Mrs. Vanhoinrigh died, and
having lived very high, left fome debts,
which
DR. SWIFT.
xxvii
which it not being convenient for her daugh.
ters, who had alſo debts of their own to pay
at preſent, to avoid an arreſt, they followed
the Dean into Ireland.
Upon his arrival to take poffeffion of his
deanry, he had buen received with great
kindneſs and honour; but now, upon his re-
turn after the Queen's death, he experienced
every poſſible mark of contempt and indigna.
tion. The tables were turned; the power of
the Tories and the Dean's credit were at an
end; and as a deſign to bring in the preten-
der had been imputed to the Queen's mini-
ſtry, ſo Swift lay now under much odium, as
being fuppoſed to have been a well-wiſher in
that cauſe. As ſoon as he was ſettled at Dub.
lin, Miſs Johnſon removed from the coun-
try to be near him, but they ſtill lived in ſe-
parate houſus; his reſidence being at the
deanery, and hers in lodgings on the other
fide of the river Liffy. The Dean kept two-
public days every week, on which the digni-
ty of his Itation was ſuſtained with the utmoſt
elegance and decorum, under the direction of
Miſs Johnſon. As to his employment at
hoine, he ſeems to liave had no heart to apply
himſelf to ſtudy of any kind, but to have re.
ſigned himself wholly to ſuch amuſements,
and ſuch company as offered ; that he might
not think of his ſituation, the misfortunes of
his friends, and his diſappointinents." I was
" three years,” ſays he to Gay, " reconcil-
" inginyſelf to the ſcene and bulinels to
16 which
C 2
Xxviii
The LIFE of
" which fortune hath condemned me; and
" ſtupidity was what I had recourſe to.”
The firſt remarkable event of his life, after
his ſettlement at the deanery, was his mar-
riage to Miſs Johnſon, after a moſt intimate
friendſhip of more than ſixteen years. This
was in the year 1716; and the ceremony was
performed privately by Dr. Ashe, then Biſhop
of Clogher, to whom the Dean had been a pu-
pil in Trinity-colledge, Dublin. But what-
ever were the motives to this marriage, the
Dean and the lady continued to live after-
wards, juſt in the ſame manner as they had
ived before. Mrs. Dingley was ſtill the in-
ſeparable companion of Stella, wherever the
went; and the never relided at the deanery,
except when the Dean had his fits of giddi.
neſs and deafneſs. Till this time he had con-
tinued his viſits to Vaneffa, (Miſs V anhom-
righ), who preſerved her reputation and friends,
and was viſited by many perſons of rank, cha.
racter, and fortune, of both ſexes : but now
his viſits were leſs frequent. In 1717, her
ſiſter died; and the whole remains of the fa-
mily.fortune centering in Vaneſſa, ſhe retired
to Selbridge, a ſmall houſe and eſtate about
twelve miles from Dublin, which had been
purchaſed by her father. From this place
The wrote frequently to the Dean, and preſſed
him, either to accept or refuſe her as a wife;
upon which he wrote an anſwer, and deliver-
ed it with his own hand. The receipt of this,
which probably communicated the fatal ſe:
crec
Dr. SWIFT.
xxix
cret of his marriage with Srella, the unhap-
py lady did not ſurvive many weeks; how,
ever, ſhe was ſufficiently compoſed to cancel
a will ſhe had formerly made in the Dean's
favour, and to make another, in which ſhe
left her fortune to her two executors, Dr.
Berkeley Biſhop of Cloynė, and Mr. Mar:
ſhall, one of the King's ferjeants at law.
From 1716 to 1720 is a chalin in the
Dean's life, which it has been difficult to fill
up: Lord Orrery thinks, with great reaſon,
that he employed this time upon Gulliver's
Travels. This work is a moral political ro-
mance, in which Swift has exerted the ſtrong-
eſt efforts of a fine irregular genius; but
while his imagination and wit delight, it is
hardly pollible not to be ſometimes offend-
ed with his ſatire, which fets not only all hu-
man actions, but human nature itſelf, in the
worſt light. The truth is, Swift's diſap-
pointments had rendered him ſplenetic and
angry with the whole world, and he frequent-
ly indulged himſelf in a milanthropy that is
Intolerable; he has done fo particularly in
fome parts of this work. About this time
the Dean, who had already acquired the cha-
racter of a humouriſt and wit, was firſt regard-
ed with general kindneſs, as the patriot of
Ireland. He writ a propoſal for the Iriſh ma-
nufactures, which made him very popular ;
the more fo, as it immediately raiſed a violent
fame, ſo that a proſecution was commenced
againſt the printer. In 1724, he writ the
Drapier's
C
C 3
XXX
The LIFE of
Drapier's Letters; thoſe brazen monuments
of his fame, as Lord Orrery calls them. A
patent having been iniquitouſly procured
by one Wood, to coin 180,000 I. in copper
for the uſe of Ireland, by which he would
have acquired exorbitant gain, and propor-
tionably impoveriſhed the nation ; the Dean,
in the character of a draper, wrote a ſeries of
letters to the people, urging them not to
receive this copper money. Theſe letters u-
nited the whole nation in his praiſe, filled e-
very ſtreet with his effigy, and every voice
with acclamations; and Wood, though ſup-
ported for ſome time, was at length compel.
led to withdraw his patent, and his money was
totally ſuppreſſed. From this time the Dean's
influence in Ireland was alınoſt without
bounds : He was conſulted in whatever rela-
ted to domeſtic policy, and particularly to
trade. The weavers always conſidered him
as their patron and legiſlator, after his pro-
poſal for the uſe of irih manufactures; and
when elections were depending for the city
of Dublin, many corporations refuſed to de-
clare themſelves, till they knew his ſentiments
and inclinations. Over the populace he was
the moſt abfolute monarch that ever govern-
ed men, and he was regarded by perfons of
every rank with veneration and elteem.
He was ſeveral times in England on a viſie
to Mr. Pope, after his ftclement at the deane-
ry, particularly in 1726 and 1727. On the
28th of January 1727, died his beloved Stel-
la,
DR. SWIFT
xxxi
la, in the 44th year of her age, regretted by
the Dean, with ſuch exceſs of affection, as
the keeneft ſenſibility only could feel, and
the moſt excellent character excite ; ſhe had
been declining from the year 1724. Stella
was a moſt amiable woman, both in perfon
and mind. Her ftature was tall, her hair
and eyes black, her complexion fairand deli-
cate, her features regular, foft, and animat-
ed, her ſhape eaſy and elegant, and her man-
ner feminine, police, and graceful: There
was natural muſic in her voice, and compla-
cency in her aſpect: ſhe abounded with wit,
which was always accompanied with good na-
ture; her virtue was founded upon humani-
ty, and her religion upon reaſon; her morals
were uniform, but not rigid, and her devoti-
on was habitual, but not oftentatious. “ Why
$6 the Dean did not ſooner marry this moſt
* excellent perſon ; why he married her at
“ all; why his marriage was ſo cautiouſly
“ concealed ; and why he was never known
to meet her but in the preſence of a third
perfon, are inquiries which no man can
"anſwer,” ſays the writer of his life," with-
out abſurdity." Nor ſo far at leaſt, if not
ſomething farther, we think, may be anſwer.
ed, and without abſurdity too.
" He did
not marry her fooner," we ſay, becauſe his
original intention was not to marry her at all :
he never ſuffered his behaviour towards fe-
males to exceed the limits of Platonic love;
and the innocence of his commerce with Va.
nella
xxxii The LIFE of
nella ſeems now to be acknowledged by eve-
ry body, as well as by this writer.
6. He did
marry her at length,” probably to cure and
put an end to thoſe conſtant uneaſineſſes and
jealouſies, which his frequent viſits to Vaneſ-
fa muſt naturally raiſe in her. " His marri.
''age was cautiouſly concealed,” becauſe he
never intended to acknowledge hör as his
wife: and she was cautious never to meet
" her but in the preſence of a third perſon,"
becaule, by reaſon of his known intimacy and
connection with Stella above all other wo.
men, her character was greatly expoſed to
unfavourable ſuſpicions, and therefore to be
guarded with all poffible care and tenderneſs
againſt them. Thus this author's inquiries
may maniteſtly be anſwered, without abſurdi-
ty: but the main, and, indeed, ſole difficul
ty is, why Swift ſhould not deſire a nearer
commerce with luch a woman as Stella, and
confequently acknowledge and receive her
publicly as his wife. Yet the anſwer has been
made a thouſand times, though no body ſeems
to acquieſce in it; namely, that “ he was
• not made like other men." Add to this,
that Switt was a man of great pride, and
could not have borne to be deſpiſed, however
fecretly; that he loved female converſe, and
to be courted and admired by wits of that ſex,
of which Stella was at the head; that he de-
ſpaired of ſupporting that dignity and .credit,
even with the delicate Steila, in a ſtate of
nearer commerce, which he was always ſure
of
Dr. SWIFT.
xxxін
.
referving at ſome diſtance : Add all theſe
conſiderations together, and the ſolution of
this mighty myſtery may probably not appear
impoſſible. Suppoſing Swift to have been
guided in this affair by mere caprice and hu-
mour, le cannot but be ſeen in a moſt un.
gracious light, and conſidered as a man ut-
terly devoid of humanity; for it is generally
agreed, that Stella's immature death
was oc-
calioned by the peculiarity of his conduct to-
wards her.
It appears by feveral little inci-
dents, that ſhe regretted and diſapproved this
conduct, and that me fometimes reproached
him with unkindneſs; for to ſuch regret and
reproach he certainly alludes, in the follow-
ing verſe on her birthday, in 1726.
" O, then whatever heav'n intends,
" Take picy on your pirying friends :
“ Nor let your ills affect your mind,
" To fancy they can be unkind;
" Me, ſurely, me you ought to ſpare,
" Who gladly would your ſufferings ſhare."
It is ſaid the Dean did at length earneſtly de-
fire, that ſhe might be publicly owned as his
wife; but as her health was then declining,
ſhe ſaid it was too late, and inſiſted, that
thy ſhould continue to live as they had lived
before. To this the Dean in his turn con:
ſented, and ſuffered her to diſpoſe entirely of
her own fortune, by her own name, to a
public charity, when ſhe died.
From the death of Stella his life became
much
xxxiv The LIFE of
much retired, and the auſterity of his tem-
per increaſed: he could not enjoy his public
days; theſe entertainments were therefore
diſcontinued, and he ſometimes avoided the
company of his moſt intimate friends: but
in time he grew more deſirous of company.
In 1732, he complains, in a letter to Mr.
Gay, that “ he had a large houſe, and ſhould
hardly find one viſitor, it he was not able
* to hire himn with a bottle of wine :” and
in another to Mr. Pope, that “ he was in dan-
ger of dying poor and friendleſs, even his
“ female friends having forfaken him;
“ which," as h. ſays, “ vexed him moſt."
Theſe complaints were afterwards repeated in
a ſtrain of yet greater ſenſibility and ſelf-pity:
All my friends have forſaken me:"
Vertiginofus, inofs, ſurdus, male gratus
amicis,
“ Deaf, giddy, helpleſs, left alone,
“ To all my friends a burden grown. .
As he lived much in folitude, he frequent-
ly amuſed himnlelf with writing; and it is ve-
ry. remarkable, that although his mind was
greatly depreſſed, and his principal enjoy-
ment at an end when Mifs Johnſon died, yet
there is an air of levity and trifling in ſome
of the pieces he wrote afterwards, that is not
to be found in any other : fuch in particular
are his directions to ſervants, and ſeveral of
his letters to his friend Dr. Sheridan. In
17339
DR. SWIFT.
XXXV
1733, when the attempt was made to repeal
the teſt act in Ireland, the diffenters often af-
fected to call themſelves Brother proteſtants,
and Fellow. Chriſtians, with the meinbers of
the eſtabliſhed church. Upon this occaſion
the Dean wrote a ſhort copy of verſe s*, which
ſo provoked one Betrefworth, a lawyer and
member of the Iriſh parliament, that he
ſwore, in the hearing of many perſons, to re-
venge hin felf either by murdering or maim-
ing the author; and, for this purpoſe, he en-
gaged his foorman, with (wo rustians, to fe-
cure the Dean wherever he could be found.
This being known, thirty of the nobility and
gentry, within the liberty of St. Patrick's,
waited upon the Dean in form, and preſent-
ed a aper ſubſcribed wich their names, in
which they folemnly engaged, in behalf of
themſelves and the reſt of the liberty, to de-
fend his perſon and fortune, as the friend and
benefactor of his country. When this paper
was delivered, Swift was in bed, deaf and gid-
dy, yet made a ſhift to di&ate a proper an-
ſwert. Theſe fits of deafneſs and giddineſs,
which
..
::
* Thus at the bar that Blackhead Bettefworth,
Though half a crown o'erpays his ſweat's worth,
Who knows in law nor text nor margent,
Calls Singleton his brother-ſerjeant.
† The Dean's anſwer was as follows.
• Gentlemen,
• I receive, with great thankfulneſs, theſe many kind
expreflions of your concern for my fafety, as well as
your
Xxxvi
The LIFE of
which were the effects of his ſurfeit, before
he was twenty years old, became more fre.
quent and violent in proportion as he grew
into years: and in 1736, while he was writing
a fatire on the Iriſh parliament, which he cal.
led The Legion Club, he was ſeized with one
of theſe fits, the effects of which was ſo dread.
ful, that he left the copy unfiniſhed, and ne.
ver afterwards attempted a compoſition either
in proſe or verſe that required the courſe of
thinking, or perhaps more than one fitting to
finiſh,
your declared reſolution to defend me (as far as the
• laws of God and man wil allow) againſt all murder-
ers and ruffians, who thall attempt to enter into the
* liberty with any bloody and wicked deſigns upon my
• life, my limbs, my houſe, or my goods. Gentlemen,
my
life is in the hands of God, and, whether it may
• be cut off by 'reachery, or open violence, or by the
• common way of other men, as long as it continues,
• I ſhall ever bear a grateful memory for this favour
you have ſhewn, beyond my expectation, and almoſt
• exceeding my wiſhes. The inhabitants of the liber.
o ty, as well as thoſe of the neighbour hood, have lived
• with me in great amity for near twenty years ; which
· I am confident will never diminiſh during my life. I
i am chiefly forry, that, by two cruel diſorders of deat-
• Defs and giddineſs, which have purſued me for four
« months, I am not in a condition either to hear or re-
sceive you, much leſs to return you my moſt ſincere
acknowledgements, which in juſtice and gratitude I
to do. May God bleſs you and your families
in this world, and make you for ever happy in the
next.'
ought
I
From
Dr. SWIFT. xxxvii
.'.'.'
From this time his memory was perceived
gradually to decline, and his paſſions to per--
vert his underſtanding; and in 1741 he was
ſo very bad, as to be utterly incapable of
converſation. Strangers were not permitted
to approach him, and his friends found it ne-
ceflary to have guardians appointed of his
perſon and eſtate. Early in 1741, his realon
was ſubverted, and his rage became abſolute
madneſs. In O&tober his left eye ſwelled to
the fize of an egg, and ſeveral large poils
broke out in his arms and body; the extreme
pain of which kept him awake near a month,
and, during one week, it was with difficulty
that five perfons reſtrained him by mere furce
from pulling out his own eyes. Upon the
fubfiding of theſe tumours, he knew thoſe a-
bout him; and appeared to far to have reco-
vered his underſtanding and temper, that there
were hopes he might once more enjoy fociety.
Theſe hopes, however, were but of ſhort du.
ration : for, a few days afterwards, he funk.
into a ſtate of total inſenſibility, ſlept much,
and could not, without great difficulty, be
prevailed on to walk croſs the room. This
was the effect of another bodily diſeaſe, his
brain being loaded with water. Mr. Stevens,
an ingenious clergyman of Dublin, pronoun.
ced this to be the cafe during his illneſs; and
upon opening his body, it appeared that he
was not mittaken. After the Dean had con-
tinued ſilent a whole year, in this ſtate of
helpleſs idiotiſm, his houſe-keeper went into
VOL. 1.
d
his
XXXviii The LIFE of
his room on the zoth of November in the
morning, and told him, it was his birth-day,
and that bonfires and illuminations were pre-
paring to celebrate it as uſual: to which he
immediately replied, " It is all folly, they had
( better let it alone.” Some other inſtances
of ſhort intervals of ſenſibility and reafon, after
his madneſs ended in ftupor, ſeem to prove,
that his diſorder, whatever it was, had not
deſtroyed, but only ſuſpended the powers of
his mind. In 1744, he now and then called
his fervant by name; and once attempting to
ſpeak to him, but not being able to expreſs
his meaning, he thewed ſigns of much un-
eaſineſs; and at laſt ſaid, “ I am a fool.” Once
afterwards, as his ſervant was taking away his
watch, he ſaid, “ bring it here:" and when
the ſame ſervant was breaking a large hard
coal, he ſaid, "that is a ſtone, you block-
" head.” From this time he was perfectly fi-
lent, till the latter end of October 1745, and
then died, without the leaſt pang or convul-
fion, in the 78th year of his age.
His character was very ſingular, and has
been attempted by ſeveral writers, the ſub-
{tance of which is as follows. In his perſon,
he was large, robuſt, and maſculine, his de-
portment was commanding, and his walk
erect. His voice was ſharp and high toned,
eſpecially when he read prayers, but not
effeminale; and there was a natural ſeverity
in his aſpect, which even his ſmiles could
fcarce ſoften, nor could his utmoſt gaiety, re-
lax
7
DR. SWIFT.
xxxix
lax! He was cleanly even to ſuperſtition ; his
nails were always paired to the quick, to pre-
vent the leaſt gathering of dirt under them,
and he never drefled without a baſon of water
by him, with which he carefully cleanſed his
feet. Among his fingularities, were his reſolu-
tion never to wear ſpectacles, and his obftinate
perſeverance in the uſe of too much exerciſe.
Regularity was peculiar to him in all his ac-
tions, even in the greateſt trifles. His hours-
of walking and reading never varied. His mo-
tions were guided by his watch, which was ſo
conſtantly held in his hand, or placed before
him on the table, that he feldom deviated ma-
ny minutes in the daily revolutions of his ex-
erciſes and employments. His manner was
without ceremony, but not ruſtic ; for he had
a perfect knowledge of all the modes and va.
riations of politeneſs and complaiſance, which
he practiſed in a manner peculiar to himſelf;
and the reſpect that was due to him by theſe
rules, he took care to exact, without the leaſt
abatement. He had ſeen the great world,
and profited much by his experience. His ca-
pacity and ſtrength of mind were undeniably
equal to any taſk whatſoever. His pride, his
fpirit, or his ambition, call it by what name
you pleaſe, was boundleſs; but his views
were checked in his younger years, and the
anxiety of that diſappointment had a viſible
effect upon all his actions. He was four and
fevere, but not abſolutely ill-natured. He
was fociable only to particular friends, and to
d 2
them
xli
The LIFE of
them only at particular hours. In company
his rule was never to ſpeak more than a
minute at a time, and then to wait at
leaſt as long for others to take up the
converſation. His colloquial ſtile, like that
of his writing, was clear, forcible, and conciſe.
He greatly excelled in punning, a talent, he
faid, which no man affected to deſpiſe, bur
thoſe who were without it. But his con-
verſation abounded with turns of wit of a
higher kind. The Dean alſo greatly excell-
ed in telling a ſtory, his ſentences were ſhort
and perſpicuous, his obſervations piercing;
and though in the latter part of his life he
was very apt to tell his ſtories too oſten, yet
his wit, as well as his virtues, was always ſu-
perior to the wretched expedients of chole
deſpicable babblers, who are perpetually at-
tempting to put off double entendre and pro-
faneneſs for wit and humour. His converſa-
tion was in the higheſt degree chaſte, and
wholly free from the leaſt cincture of irreli-
gion. As he was zealous to preſerve all the
delicacies of converſation, he was always beſt
pleaſed, when ſome of the company were la-
dies. He had not the leaſt tincture of vanity
in his converſation ; he was uſed to ſay, he
was too proud to be vain. He generally
ſpoke as he thought, in all companies, and
at all times. If the converſation turned up-
on ſerious ſubjects, he was neither petulant
in the debate, nor negligent of the iſſue. He
would litten with great attention to the ar-
guinents
DR. SWIFT.
xli
guments of others, and whether he was en-
gaged or not in the argument, he would re-
eapitulate what had been ſaid, ſtate the quef-
tion with great clearnels and preciſion, point
out the controverted particular, and appeal
to the opinion either of fome neutral perfon,
er of the majority. It is however true, that
he kept his friends in fome degree of awe,
and was therefore rather an entertaining, than
a deſirable gueſt. He was open to adulation
and could not, or would not diſtinguiſh be-
tween low Aattery and juſt applaufe. Yet he
was not leſs open to admonition, if it was of
fered without arrogance, and by perſons of
whoſe ability and honeſty he had no doubt.
Such was Swift as a companion ; as a mafter,
he was not leſs remarkable. As he expected
puntual, ready, and implicit obedience, he
always tried his fervants when he hired them,
by fome teſt of their humility. Among other
queſtions, he always aſked whether they un-
derſtood cleaning ſhoes, becauſe," ſaid he, .
" my kitchen-wench has a ſcullion that does
“ her drudgery, and one part of the buſineſs
" of my groom and footman, is conſtantly to
« clean her ſhoes by turns ;" if they fcrupled
this, the treaty was at an end, if not, he
gave them a further hearing. He appeared
to be churliſh and auſtere to his domeftics in
general; but in reality was a good maſter.
As a member of civil ſociety, he was a zea.
lous advocate for liberty, the detector of
fraud, and the ſcourge of oppreſſion. In poli-
tics
60
d 3
xili
The LIFE of
rics he was neither Whig nor Tory, Jacobite
nor Republican; he was Dr. Swift. As an
eccleſiaſtic, he was ſcrupulouſly exact, in the
exerciſe of his function, as well with regard
to fpiritual as temporal things. He was ex-
tremely exact and conſcientious in promoting
the members of his choir according to their
merit, and never advanced any perſon to a
vicarage, who was not qualified in all reſpects
in the higheſt degree. He could never be in-
duced to take fines for any of the chapter-
lands. He always choſe to raiſe the rents, as
the method leaſt oppreſſive to the preſent te-
nant, and moſt advantageous to all future te-
nants and landlords; he conſtantly refuſed to
give charity out of the chapter-funds, which
he alleged were ſcarce ſufficient to maintain
the neceſſary repairs of the cathedral, and he
expended more money to ſupport and adorn
it, than had been applied to the ſame úſe in
any period of equal length ſince it was firſt
built. He was a faithful guardian of the
rights of his deanery, and even determined to
affere his right of abſence againſt the Archbi-
fhop of Dublin, at the expence of ſeveral
hundred pounds, when he did not believe he
ſhould ever again claim the privileges for
himſelf, becauſe he would not liurt his. fuc-
ceffor by an injurious precedent. The poor,
in the liberty of his cathedral, were better re-
gulated than any other in the kingdom : They
were all badged, and were never found beg
ing out of their diſtrict. For theſe he built
and
DR SWIFT.
xliii
and furniſhed a little alms-houſe, being aſſiſt-
ed by ſome voluntary contributions, and he
preſerved among them uncominon cleanlineſs
and decency, by conſtantly viſiting them in
perſon. Nor was his care and kindneſs con-
fined to his cathedral : he improved his li-
ving of Laracor, though he continued there
but a ſhort time, and left both the houſe and
glebe a convenient and agreeable retreat to
his fucceffor, at a conſiderable expence. In
his private capacity, he was not only chari-
table but generous, and whatever miſanthro-
py. may be found in his writings, there does
not appear to have been any in his life. His
writings in defence of the poor people of Ire-
land are well known, and that he might not
be wanting himſelf, while he pleaded their
cauſe with others, he conſtantly lent out a
large ſum of money, in ſmall portions, to ho.
neſt, induſtrious, and neceſſicous tradeſmen,
upon eafy terms. Beſides this, he frequently
gave five and ten pounds, without any parade,
when proper objects offered. He was dili-
gent to relieve the poor, and, at the ſame
time, to encourage induſtry, even in the low-
eft ftation; he uled regularly to viſit a great
number of poor, chiefly women, as well in
in the public ſtreets, as in the bye-allies, and
under the arches of Dublin. If he was not
exempt from the infirmity of loving money,
yet he was clear of the vice. If his æconomy
degenerated into avarice, it muſt be confel-
fed it did not contract his bounty. He turn-
ed
xliv
The LIFE of
ed all the evil of exceſſive frugality upon him-
felf; it induced him to walk, when he had
been uſed to ride, and he would then ſay, he
had earned a ſhilling or eighteen pence,
which he had a right to do what he pleaſed
with, and which he conſtantly applied to his
ufual charities, which by this expedient ho
could continue, and yet expend leſs upon the
whole than before. Whilft he abounded in
charity, he was not leſs diligent in the prac-
cice of other virtues, or leſs devout and con-
ftant in the folemnities of religion. He was
remarkably temperate, both in eating and
drinking. He was not only juft, but punc-
tual in his dealings, and he had an inviolable
regard for truch. As he conſtantly attended
divine worſhip when he was at home; fo he
uſed always to go early to church when he
was in London, and never to ſleep without
affembling his family in his own chamber to
prayers. An abhorrence of hypocriſy was a
ſtriking particular in his character; he even
carried it to ſuch an excefs, that it is not ea-
ſy to determine, whether it was more a, vir-
tue than a vice ; for it brought upon him the
charge of irreligion, and encouraged others
to be irreligious. In proportion as he abhof-
red hypocrify, he drealed the imputation of it,
and therefore concealed his piety with as much
diligence, as others conceal their vices, which
cuſtom has not made reputable. As his ab-
horrence of hypocriy exempted him from af-
fectation, the natural equity of his mind fe-
cured
DR. SWIFT.
xlv
cured him againſt envy. He cultivated ge-
pius wherever he found it, and in whatever
degree, with great zeal and afliduity; and
would frequently ſpend much time in correc-
ting and improving any literary compoſitions
that had the leaſt appearance of ingenuity.
As a writer, he had no equal. His ſtile is
malterly, correct, and ſtrong, never diffulive,
yet always clear; and if we conſider it in com-
pariſon of his predeceſſors, he has outdone
them all, and is one, perhaps the chief, of
thoſe few ſelect Engliſh writers, who have ex-
celled in elegance and propriety of language,
In politics, his favourite topic, he appears
like a maſterly gladiator; he wields the ſword
of party with eaſe, juſtneſs, and dexterity ,
and while he entertains the ignorant and the
vulgar, he draws an equal attention from the
learned and the grear. When he is ſerious,
his gravity becomes him; when he laughs,
his readers muſt laugh with him. In poetry,
he would not take pains to excell: but be-
came, in ſome meaſure, ſuperior to it, and
aſſumed more the air and manner of a critic,
than a poet. But what ſhall be faid for his
love of trifles, and his want of delicacy and
decorum? Forgive him theſe errors, and
draw a veil over certain excrefcences of wit
and humour; you will then admire him as an
honour to the public, and a ſcourge to all the
knaves and fools of his time. Upon the whole,
his conduct was greatly variegated, ſo much
1
as
xlvi
The LIFE of
as to appear even capricious and contradicto-
ry. However, if we look a little deeper
than the ſurface, theſe ſeeming contradicti-
ons will be found to ariſe from the ſame prin:
ciples. Swift was naturally temperate and
chafte, it was therefore eaſy for him to be
frugal; but he was alſo naturally high-ſpirit-
ed: and therefore, as wealth is the pledge of
independence, it is not ſtrange bis frugality
ſhould verge to exceſs. However, as he act-
ed upon Chriſtian principles of general vir-
tue, he did not deliver himſelf up to natural
propenſions, when contrary to his duty; and
Therefore his love of money did not contract
his charity to the poor, or defraud his fuc-
ceſſors to enrich himſelf. The ſame ſpirit
which ſecured his integrity, by diſdaining the
meanneſs of a lie, produced that dread of hy-
pocriſy which concealed his piety, and be-
trayed him into appearances of evil: and the
ſame want of natural tenderneſs which made
him obdurate and auftere, transferred the
diſtribution of his liberality from inſtinct to
religion. Such was Jonathan Swift, whoſe
life, with all the advantages of genius and
learning,. was a ſcale of infelicity, gradually
aſcending, till pain and anguiſh deſtroyed the
faculties by which they were felt. An in-
ſtructive leſſon to teach the wife humility,
and the ſimple content.
By his will, which is dated in May 1740,
juſt before he ceaſed to be a reaſonable being,
he
DR. SWIFT.
xlvii
he left about 1200 1. in legacies *; and the
reſt of his fortune, which amounted to about
11,000 l. to erect and endow an hoſpital for i-
deots and lunatics. He was buried in the
great iſle of St. Patrick's cathedral, under e
ſtone of black marble, inſcribed with the
following Latin epitaph : It was written by
himſelf, and ſhews a moft unhappy miſanthro-
pic ſtate of mind.
“ Hic depoſitum eſt corpus
Jonathan Swift, S. T.P.
Hujus eccleſiæ cathedralis decani
" Ubi fæva indignatio ulterius cor lacerare
nequit,
“ Abi, viator, & imitare,
" Si poteris,
“Strenuum pro virili libertatis vindicatorem.
“ Obiit, &c."
:
* His will, like all his other writings, is drawn up
in a peculiar manner. Even in ſo ſerious a compoſition
he could not help indulging himſelf in leaving legacies
that carry with them an air of raillery and jeft. He
diſpoſes of his three hats, his belt, his ſecond beſt, and
his third beſt beaver, with an ironical ſolemnity that
renders the bequeſts ridiculous. He bequeaths to
* Mr. John Gratton a filver box, to keep in it the to-
. bacco which the ſaid Joho uſually chewed, called
pigtail.' But his legacy to Mr. Robert Gratton is
fill more extraordinary. Item, I bequeath to Mr.
* Robert Gratton, prebendary of St. Andrew's, my
ſtrong box, on condition of his giving the fole uſe of
the ſaid box to his brother, Dr. James Gratton, du-
ring the life of the ſaid Doétor, who hath more oc-
caſion for it.
Some
[ xlviii
Some PARTICULARS concerning Dr. SWIFT.
Taken from Mrs. PILKINGTON's Memoirs.
M
RS. Pilkington's acquaintance with Dr.
Swift commenced from
linds on his birth-day, vol. 8. p. 349. Theſe the
Dean received very kindly, and ſaid, he would ſee
her whenever ſhe pleaſed.
A few days after, ſhe was introduced to ihre
Dean in Dr. Delany's garden at Delville, by a gen-
tlewoman. He faluted her, and aſked the lady, if,
ſhe was her daughter? The lady ſmiled, and ſaid
he was Mrs, Pilkington. * What," ſays he,
“ this poor little child married ! God help her, ſhe
" is early engaged to trouble." The Dean enga-
ging Mr. Pilkington to preach for him at the cathe-
dral next Sunday, invited her, with the reſt of the
company, to dinner. As the communion is ad-
miniſtered every Sunday in St. Patrick's church,
Mrs. Pilkington was charmed to ſee with what a
becoming piery the Dean performed that holy fer-
vice, which he had ſo much at heart, that he want.
ed not the affiſtance of the liturgy, but went quite
through it without ever looking on the book. He
bowed at the table ; which behaviour was cenfured,
as favouring of popery. But this circumſtance may
vindicate him from the wicked aſperſion of being
deemed an unbelierer, ſince it is plain he had the
utmoſt reverence for the eucharift. Service being
ended, the Dean was ſurrounded at the church:
door, by a crowd of poor ; to all of whom he
gave
2
BY MRS. PLKINGTON. xlix
charity, except an old woman, who held out a ve-
ry dirty hand to him. He told her, very gravely,
That though ſhe was a beggar, water was not fo
ſcarce but ihe might have wathed her hands. When
they came to the deanry, the Dean kindly faluted
Mrs. Pilkington, and, without allowing her time
to fit down, bade her come and ſee his library: but
merrily told Mr. Pilkington, who was for follow-
ing them, that he did not defire his company.
"Well,” ſaid he to her, “ I have brought you
“ here to fhew you all the money I got when I was
" in the miniſtry ; but don't ſteal any of it.” “I
" won't indeed, Sir,” ſaid ſhe. So opening a ca-
biner, he ſhewed her a parcel of empty drawers;
" Bleſs me.” ſays he, “ the money is flown." He
then opened his bureau, wherein he had a great
number of curious trinkets of various kinds, ſome
of which were preſented to him by the Earl and
Counteſs of Oxford, Lady Maſham, and Lady
Betty Germain At laſt coming to a drawer filled
with medals, he bade her chuſe two for herſelf,
but he could not help ſmiling, when ſhe began to
poize them in her hands, chuſing them by weight
rather than antiquity.
At dinner, the Dean's behaviour was very hu-
mourous. He placed himſelf at the head of his
table, oppoſite to a great pier glaſs, ſo that he
could ſee in the glafs whatever the ſervants did be-
hind him. He was ſerved entirely in plate, with
great elegance. But the beef being over-roaſted,
put the company all in confufion. The Dean call-
ed for the cook maid, and ordered her to take the
beef down ſtairs, and do it leſs. She anſwered,
very innocently, that ſhe could not." Why, what
" fort of a creature are you,” ſays he,
" mit a fault which cannot be amended!” And
turning to Mrs. Pilkington, he ſaid very gravely,
That he hoped, as the cook was a woman of ge-
" nius, he ſlaould, by this manner of arguing, be
VOL. I.
" able
to com
e
:1 ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT,
" able, in about a year's time, to convince her that
« The had better ſend up the meat too litele than
too much donc ;" charging the men -ſervants,
whenever they imagined the meat was ready, they
fhould take it, fpit and all, and bring it up by force,
promiling to aid them in caſe the cook refifted.
Then turning his eye on the looking-glaſs, he c-
Spied the butler opening a bottle of ale; and help-
ing himſelf to the firſt glaſs, he very kindly jum-
bled the rest together, that his maſter and gueſts
might all fare alike. "Ha! friend," faid the
Dean, “Sharp's the word, I find, you drank my
“ ale, for which I ſtop two ſhillings of your board-
wages
this week; for I ſcorn to be outdone in
“ any thing, even in cheating."
Dinner being ended, the Dean thanked Mr.
Pilkington for his fermon; “I never," ſaid he,
preached but twice in my life ; and then they
were not fermons, but pamphlets. Mrs. Pil
kington aſked him, what might be the ſubject of
them. He told her, they were againſt Wood's
halfpence. Having aſked Mr. and Mrs. Pilking-
ton, it they could ſmoke, and being anſwered that
they did not ; “ 'Tis a fign," ſaid he,
you were
“ neither of you bred in the univerſity of Oxford;
“ for drioking and ſmoking are the firſt rudi-
mients of learning taught there ; and in theſe two
« arts, no univerſity in Europe can ourdo them."
Having aſked Mys. Pilkington, if ſhe had any
faults? “ Pray Mr. Dean," faid Dr. Delany,
“ why will you be ſo unpolite as to fuppoſe Mrs.
Pilkington has any faults?" " I'll tell you,” re-
plied the Dean, 6 whenever I ſee a number of a,
« greeable qualities in any perſon, I am always
* ſure they have bad ones fufficient to poile the
“ fcale." Mrs. Pilkington bowed, and told him, he
did her great honour; in that copying Bp. Berkc.
ley, whom the bad frequently heard declare,
That when any ſpeech was made to him, which
might
Migliore
BY MRS. PILKINGTON.
.
Why
is
66
might be conſtrued either into a compliment or an
affront, or that had two handles, he always took
hold of the beſt.
The Dean then aſked Mrs. Pilkington, if ſhe were
a Queen, what ſhe would chule to have after din-
ner? She anfwered, "Your convertation, Sir."
* Pooh," ſaid 'he, “ I mean, what regale ?” “ A
" diſh of coffee, Sir," anſwered fhe.
" then," ſaid he, « I will ſo far make you as happy
as a Queen: you ſhall have ſome in perfection :
" for when I was chaplain to the Earl of Berke-
ley, who was in the government here, I was
as fö poor, I was obliged to keep a coffee houſe,
" and all the nobility reſorted to it to talk treaſon.'
The Dean then fet about making the coffee ; but
the fire ſcorching his hand, he called to Mrs. Pil-
kington to reach him his glovc; and changing the
coffee pot to his left hand, held our his right one,
ordering her to put the glove on it; which accord-
ingly ſhe did; when taking up part of his gown to
fan himſelf with, and acting in the character of a
prudith lady, be ſaid, " Well, I do not know what
" to think : women may be honeſt that do ſuch
** things; but, for my part, I never could bear to
touch any man's fleſh - except my huſband's :
whom, perhaps, (ſaid he) the wiſhed at the de-
s Mr. Pilkington," faid he, " you would not
" tell me your wife's faults; but I have found her
« out to be a dnd inſolent, proud, unman-
" nerly flut." " What has ſhe done now?” ſaid
Mr. Pilkington. “ Done," ſaid the Dean
« nothing, but fat there quietly, and never once
“ offered to interrupt me in making the coffee ;
whereas a lady of modern good-breeding would
" have ſtruggled with me for the coffee-pot, till
" the had made me ſcald myſelf and her, and made
me throw the coffee in the fire, or perhaps at
" why
66
16 her:
bi ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT,
*
" her head, rather than permit me to take ſo
es much trouble for her."
Mrs. Pilkington ftaid at home with the Dean du-
ring the time of the afternoon ſervice ; and he
made her read bis Hiſtory of the four laſt years of
Q. Anne, alking her, at the concluſion of every
period, whether ſhe underftood it?" for I would,
ſaid he, “bave it intelligible to the meaneſt capa-
“ city; and if you comprehend it, 'tis poffible eve.
6 body may.
She accompanicd the Dean to evening prayers;
and on their return to the deanry, he told Mr. and
Mrs. Pilkington, that he gave them leave to itay to
fupper; which, from him, was a ſufficient invita-
tion. The Dean then decanted a bottle of wine;
and the laſt glaſs being muddy, he called to Mr.
Pilkington to drink it; for," ſaye he, “ I always
keep ſome poor parfon to drink ihe foul wine for
me.” Mr. Pilkington entering into his humour.
thanked him, and told him, he did not know the
difference, but was glad ro get a glaſs at any rate.
" Why then,” ſaid the Dean, "you fhan't ; for
" I'll drink it myſelf Why p---x take you, you are
" wiſer than a paltry curate, whom I aſked to dine
“ with me a few days ago; for, upon my making
" the ſame ſpeech to him, he told me he did not
« underſtand ſuch uſage; and ſo walked off with-
out his dinner. By the ſame token, I told the
gentleman who recommended him to me, that
so the fellow was a blockhead, and I had done
"s with him.''
The Dean then miffing his golden bottle ſcrew,
told Mrs. Pilkington very ſternly, he was ſure the
had ſtolen it. She affirmed very ſeriouſly, ſhe had
not. Upon which he looked for it, and found it
where he himſelf had laid it : " 'Tis well for you,"
faid be," that I have got it, or I would have char-
ged you with theft. " Why, pray, Sir," ſaid
ſhe, “ Tould I be ſuſpected more than any other
perfon
•
BY MRS. PILKINGTON,
" perſon in the company!” “For a very good rea-
“ fon," ſaid he, “ becauſe you are the poorest.
At their going away, the Dean handed Ms. Pil-
kington down all the ſteps to the coach, thanking
them for the honour of their company, at the same
time flipping into her hand as much money as Mr.
Pilkington and ſhe had given at the offering in the
morning, and coach hire alſo ; which ſhe durft not
refuſe, left ſhe ſhould have been deemed as great a
blockhead as the parſon who refuſed the thick wine.
In one of the Dean's periodical fits of deafneſs
he fent for Mrs. Pilkingion; who having come, he
brought out to her a large book, finely bound in
Turkey leather, and handſomely gili; "This,"
ſaid he, “is a tranſlation of the epiftles of Horace,
a preſent to me from the author ; is a ſpecial
good cover; but I'have a mind there ſhould be
ſomething valuable within fide of it.”. So, ta-
king out his pen-knife, he cut out all the leaves
cloſe to the inner margin. “Now," ſaid he “I
“ will give theſe what they greatly want;" and put
them all into the fire. " Your taſk, Madam, is tu
parte in theſe letters in this cover, in the order
I ſhall give them to you: I intended to do it my.
"felt, but that I thought it might be a pretty a-
56.muſement for a child; fo I lene for you.” She
told him the was extremely proud to be honoured
with his commands; but requcfted to have leave to
read the letters as the went on.
Why,” ſaid the
Dean, “ provided you will acknowledge your-
“ ſelf amply rewarded for your trouble, I don't
“ much care it I indulge you ſo far."
In reading the letters, the could not avoid re-
marking to the Dean, that, notwithſtanding the
friendſhip Mr. Pope profe Ted for Mr. Gay, he
could not forbear a great many ſatirical, or, if ſhe
might be allowed to ſay ſo, envious remarks on the
fucceſs of the Beggar's Opera. The Dean very
frankly owned, he did not think Mr. Pope was fo
e 3
candid
liv ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT,
caodid to the merit of other writers as he ought to
be. She then ventured io aſk the Dean, whether
he thought the lines Mr. Pope addreffes him with
in the beginning of the Dunciad, were any compli-
nient to hm? VIZ
O thou! whatever title pleaſe thine ear.
" I believe," ſaid he, " they were meant as ſuch,
" but they are very ftif" Indeed, Sir," faid
* the, he is ſo perfectly a maſter of harmonious
" numbers, that, had his heart been the leaſt af-
" fected with the ſubject, he muſt have writ better.
• How cold, how forced, are his lines to you,
"compared with your's to him?"
Hail, happy Pope, whoſe generous mind, &c.
ܕܝ
Incot at court.
o Here we ſee the maſterly poet, and the warm,
" fincere, generous friend; while he, according to
" the character he gives of Mr. Addifon, damns
“ with faint praiſe
...“ Well," replied the Dean,
" I'll thew you a late letter of his." He did fo;
and Mrs. Pilkington was ſurpriſed to find it filled
with low and ungentleman-like reflections, both on
Mr. Gay, and the two noble perſons who honour-
ed him with their patronage after his diſappoint-
" Well, Madam," ſaid the Dean,
" what do you think of thar lecter?” (ſeeing ſhe
had gone quite through it). “Indeed, Sir," (re-
plied The) “ I am ſorry I have read it: for it gives
me reaſon to think, there is no ſuch thing, as a
" linčere friend to be met with in the world."
" Why," replied he, “ authors are as jealous of
“their prerogative as kings: and can no more
“ bear a rival in the empire of wit, than a monarch
" could in his dominions." Mrs. Pilkington then
obſerving a Latin ſentence writ in Italics, deſired
the Dead to explain it." No," replied he, ſmiling,
" I'll
BY MRS, PILKINGTON.
“ I'll leave that for your huſband to do. I'll ſend
" for him to dine with us, and, in the mean time,
" we'll go and take a walk in Naboth's vineyard."
" Where may that be, pray, Sir?” ſaid ſhe.“ Why,
a garden,” ſaid the Dean, “I cheated one of
“ my neighbours out of.” When they entered the
garden, or rather the field, which was ſquare, and
incloſed with a ſtone wall, the Dean aſked her how
ſhe liked it? “Why, pray, Sir,” ſaid ſhe," where
" is the garden?” “ Look behind you,” ſaid he.
She did lo; and oblerved the ſouth wall was lined
with brick, and a great number of fruit-trees plant-
ed againſt it, which being then in bloſſom, looked
very beautiful. What are you ſo intent on laid the
Dean? • The opening bloom,” replied Me ;
which brought Waller's lines to her remembrance.
Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime.
“ Oh!” replied be, “you are in a poetical vein ;
“ I thought you had been taking notice of my
" wall. 'Tis the beſt in Ireland., When the ma.
“ fons were building it, (as moſt tradefinen are
rogues) I watched them very cloſe, and as often
as they could, they put in a rotten ſtone; of
which, however, I took no notice, till they had
“ built three or four perches beyond it. Now, as I
" am an abſolute monarch in the liberties, and king
“ of the mob, my way with them was, to have the
“ wall chrown down to the place where I obſerved
“ the rotten ſtone; and by doing ſo five or fix
“ times, the workinen were at lait convinced it
was their intereſt to be honeſt.”.
"Or elſe,
“ Sir," ſaid Mrs Pilkington, “ your wall would
" have been as tedious a piece of work as Pene.
lope's web, if all that was done in the day was
to be undone at nighc." Well," anſwered the
Dean, " I find you have poetry for every occafion;
" but as you cannot keep pace with me in walking,
" I would have you fit down on that little bank,
" till
Ivi ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT,
16-
“ till you are reſted or I tired, to put us more upon
a par."
She ſeated herſelf, and away the Dean walked,
or rather trotted as hard as ever he could drive.
She could not help ſmiling at his odd gait; for the
thought to herſelf, he had written ſo much in praiſe
of horſes, that he was reſolved to imitate them as
nearly as he could. As the was indulging this fan-
cy, the Dean returned to her, and gave her a ſtrong
confirmation of his partiality to thoſe animals. “ I
$6. have been conſidering, Madam, as I walked,"
ſaid he, " what a fool Mr. Pilkington was to mar-
ry you : for he could have afforded to keep a
“ horſe for leſs money than you coſt him ; and
" that, you muſt confeſs, would have given him
“ better exerciſe and more pleaſure than a wife.
“ Why, you laugh, and don't anſwer me--is it not
• truth?"-"I muſt anſwer you, Sir," replied
" the with another queſtion ; Pray how can a ba-
“ chelor judge of this matter!" " I find,” ſaid he,
you are vain enough to give yourſelf the prefe
«« «rence.” "I do, Sir," replieu ſhe, “to that
“ fpecies here; to a Houyhnbnm, I would, as be-
comes me, give preference. But, Sir, 'tis going
66 to rain.". " I hope not, ſaid he, "for that
" will coft me fixpence for a coach for you.” (the
garden being.ae fome diſtance from the houſe),
& Come haſte; O how the teſter treinbles in my
" pocket!” She obeyed, and they got in a doors
juſt time enough to eſcape a heavy ſhower. “ Thank
* God," ſaid the Dean, “I have faved my mo-
ney. Here, you fellow," (to the ſervant) care
ry this fixpence to the lame old man that ſells
gingerbread in the corner, becauſe he tries to do
* ſomething, and does not beg."
Mrs. Pilkington was ſhewed into a little ſtreeť.
parlour, where was Mrs. Brent; his houſe-keeper.
** Here," ſays he, “Mrs. Breat, take care of this
“ child, while I take my walk out within doors."
The
4
BY MRS. PILKINGTON
lvit
The Dean then ran up the great-ſtairs, down one
pair of b. ck ſtairs, up another, in ſo violent a man-
ner, that Mrs. Pilkington could not help expreſſing
her uneaſineſs to Mrs. Brent, left he ſhould fall,
and be hurted. Mrs. Brent ſaid, it was a cuſtomary
exerciſe with him, when the weather did not per-
mit him to walk abroad,
Mrs. Brent then told Mrs. Pilkington, of the
Dean's charity; of his giving above half his yearly.
income in private penfions to decayed families; and
keeping 500l. in the conſtant ſervice of induſtrious
poor, which he lent out 51. at a tiine, and took
the payment back at is, a-week, which, the obſer-
ved, did them more ſervice than if he gave it them
entirely, as it obliged them to work, and at the fame
time kept up his charitable fund for the affiſtance of
many. “ You cannot imagine," ſaid ſhe, “ what
numbers of poor tradeſmen, who have even want.
" ed proper tools to carry on their work, have,
by this ſmall loan, been put into a proſperous
way, and brought up their families in credit.
" The Dean," added the, “ has found out a new
" method of being charitable, in which, however,
“ I believe, he would have but few followers ;
" which is, to debar himſelf of what he calls the
" fuperfluities of life, in order to adminiſter to the
" neceſſities of the diſtreſſed. You juſt now ſaw
an inſtance of it, the money a coach would have
" coſt him, he gave to a poor. man unable to walk,
" When he dines alone, he drinks a pint of beer,
" and gives away the price of a pint of wine. And
" thus he acts in numberleſs inſtances."
The Dean came to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Pil-
kington at their Lilliputian palace, as he called it ;
and, who would have thought it ? he juſt looked
into the parlour, and ran up into the garret,
then into Mrs. Pilkington's bed-chamber and libra-
ry, and from thence down to the kitchen; and the
bouſe being very clean, he complimented her upon
it,
his perſon no way extraordinary. Afrer dinner,
Iviä ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT,
it. and told her that it was his cuſtom; and that it
was from the cleanlineſs of the garret and kit-
chen, he judged of the houſewifery of the miſtreſs.
of the houſe ; for no doubt but a flut would have
the room clean where the gueſts were to be enter-
tained.
He was ſometimes very rude, even to his ſupe.
riors; of which the following itory, related to Mrs.
Pilkington by hinſelf, may ferve as one inſtance au
mongſt a thouiand others.
The laſt time he was in London, he went to dine
with the Earl of Burlington, who was then but new-
ly married. The Earl being willing, 'tis ſuppoſed;
to have ſome diverſion, did not introduce him to
his lady, nor mention his name. It is to be obſer-
ved, that his gown was generally very ruſty, and
faid the Dean, "Lady Burlington, I hear, you can
fing; ting me a long.". The lady looked on
this unceremoni us manner of aſking a favour with
diftafte, and poſitively refuſed him. He faid, the
fhould fing, or he would make her.
Why, Ma.
“ dam, I ſuppose, you take me for one of your
“. poor Engliſh: hedge parlons : fing when I bid
you."
As the Eari did nothing but laugh at
this freedom, the lady was ſo vexed, that ſhe burſt
into tears, and retired.
His firft compliment to her when he ſaw her ao
gain, was, “Pray, Madam, are you as proud, and
ill-natured now, as when I ſaw you laſt ?" To
which the anſwered, with great good humour,
" No, Mr. Dean ; I'll fing for you, if you pleaſe."
From which time he conceived great efteem for
her. But who that knew him would take offence
at his bluntneſs?
Mrs. Pilkington could not recollect that ever ſhe
ſaw the Dean laugh; perhaps he thought it be-
Death him; for when any pleaſantry paſt, which
might have excited it, he uſed to fuck his checks,
"
as
BY MRS. PILKINGTON.
lix
1
to avoid riſibility. He uſed frequently to put her
in mind of Shakeſpear's diſcription of Caſſius,
He is a great diſcerner, and he looks
Quite through the deeds of men
Seldom he ſmiles, and (miles in ſuch a ſort,
As if he mock'd himſelf, and ſcorn'd his ſpirit,
That could be mov d to ſmile at any thing.
Jul. Cajar.
Mrs. Pilkington believed the Dean's early youth
did not promiſe that bright day of wit which has
fince enlightened the learned world. Whilft he
was at the univerſity of Dublin, he was fo far from
being diſtinguiſhed for any fuperiority of parts or
learning, that he was ſtopped of his degree as a
dupce. When ſhe heard the Dean relate this cir.
cumſtance, ſhe told him, ſhe ſuppoſed he had been
idle; but he affirmed to the contrary, aſſuring her
he was really dull. Which, if true, is very ſur.
priſing.
I have,” ſays ſhe, “ often been led to look on
" the world as a garden, and the human minds as
“ ſo many plants, ſet by the hand of the great
“ Creator for utility and ornament. Thus ſome,
" we ſee, early produce beautiful bloftoms, and as
“ ſoon fade away; others, whoſe gems are more
" flow in unfolding, but more permanent when
« blown; and others, again, who, though longer
" in arriving at perfection, not only bleſs us then
" with ſhade and odour, but alſo with delicious
66 wholeſome fruit."
He was a perpetual friend to merit and learning;
and utterly incapable of envy; for in true genuine
wit, he could fear no rival.
It has been often obſerved, that where great ta-
lents are beſtowed, there the ſtrongeſt paſſions are
likewiſe given. This great man did but too often
let them have dominion over him, and that on the
moſt trifling occafions. During meal-times he was
evermore
ACCOUNTS OF DR. SWIFT,
evermore in a ſtorm; the meat was always too
much or too little done, or the ſervants had offend-
ed in ſome point, imperceptible to the reſt of the
company : however, when the cloth was taken a-
way, he made his gueſts rich amends for the pain
he had given. For then
Was truly mingled in the friendly bowl.
The feaſt of reaſon, and the flow of ſoul. Pope.
Yet he preſerved ftrict temperance; for he never
drank above half a pint of wine, in every glaſs of
which he mixed water and ſugar: yet, if he'l ked his
company, he would fit many hours over it, unlock-
ing all the fprings of policy, learning, true humour,
and inimitable wit.
The following ſtory the Dean told to Mrs Pil-
kington.
A clergyman, who was a moſt learned fine gen-
tleman, but, under the ſofteſt and politeft appear-
ance, concealed the moſt turbulent ambition, ha.
ving made his merit as a preacher too eminent to
be overlooked, had it early rewarded with the mi-
Dr. Swift went to congratulate him on it;
but told him, he hoped, as his Lordſhip was a na-
tive of Ireland, and had now a ſeat in the houſe of
Peers, he would employ his powerful elocution in
the ſervice of his diſtreſſed country. The prelate
told him, che biſhopric was but a very ſmall one,
and he could not hope for a better, if he did not o-
blige the court. “ Very well,” ſays Swift, " then
“ it is hoped, when you have a better, yoŲ will
« become an honeſt man. Ay, that I will, Mr.
“ Dean," ſaid he, " Till then, my Lord, farewell,”
anſwered Swift. This prelate was twice tranſlated
to richer lees; and on every tranflation, Dr Swift
waited on him to remind him of his promile; but to
no purpoſe; there was now an archbiſhopric in view,
and till that was obtained, nothing could be done.
Having in a ſhort time likewiſe got this, he then
ſent
tre.
2
BY MRS, PILKINGTON. Ixi
ſent for the Dean, and told him, “ I am now at
" the top of my preferment; for I well know no
* Iriſhman will ever be made primate ; therefore,
I can riſe no higher in fortune or ſtation, I
" will zealouſly promote the good of my country.'
And from that time he commenced a moſt outra-
geous patriot,
as
VOL. I.
+
1
I Ixii]
A CRITICISM on SWIFT'S PROSE-
WRITINGS.
By the EARL of ORRERY.
TF
F we conſider Swift's proſe works, we ſhall find
a certain maſterly conciſeneſs in their ſtyle, that
hath never been equalled by any other writer. The
truth of this affertion will more evidently appear,
by comparing him with ſome of the authors of his
own time. Of theſe Dr. Tillotſon and Mr. Addi-
ſon are to be numbered among the moſt eminent.
Addiſon hath all the powers that can captivate and
improve : his diction is eaſy, his periods are well
turned, his expreſſions are flowing, and his hu-
mour is delicate. Tillotſon is nervous, grave, ma-
jeſtic, and perſpicuous. We muſt join both theſe
characters together to form a true idea of Dr.
Swift; yet as he outdoes Addiſon in humour, he
excels Tillotſon in perfpicuity. The archbishop
indeed confined himſelf to ſubjects relative to his
profeſſion : but Addiſon and Swift are more dif-
fuſive writers. They continually vary in their
manner, and treat different topics in a different
Ityle. When the writings of Addiſon terminate in
party, he loſes himſelf extremely, and from a de-
licate and juſt comedian, deviates into one of the
loweſt kind *. Not ſo Dr. Swift.
Not ſo Dr. Swift. He appears
like a maſterly gladiator. He wields the ſword of
party with eaſe, juſtneſs, and dexterity : and while
he entertains the ignorant and the vulgar, he draws
* See the papers called the Freebolder.
2
A CRITICIS M.
Ixint
an equal attention from the learned and the great.
When he is ſerious, his gravity becomes him, when
he laughs, his reader muſt laugh with him. But
what ſhall be ſaid for his love of trifles, and his want
of delicacy and decorum ? crrors, that if he did
not contract, at leaſt he increaſed in Ireland. They
are without a parallel. I hope they will ever re-
main ſo. The firſt of them aroſe merely from his
love of flattery, with which he was daily fed in that
kindum : the ſecret proceeded from the miſanthro-
py of his diſpoſition, which induced him peeviſhly
to debaſe mankind, and even to ridicule human na-
ture itſelf. Politics were his favourite topic, as
they gave him an opportunity of gratifying his am-
bition, and thirſt of power ; yet in this road he has
feldom continued long in one path. He has writ.
ten miſcellaneouſly, and has chofen rather to appear
a wandering comet, than a fixed ftar. Had he ap-
plied the faculties of his mind to one great and uſe-
ful work, he muſt have ſhined more gloriouſly,
and might have enlightened a whole planetary fy.
ftem in the political world.
There are ſome few pieces in his works that I de-
ſpiſe, others that I lothe, but many more that de-
light and improve me.
The former are not wor-
thy of notice. They are of no farther uſe than to
ſhew us, in general, the errors of human nature ;
and to convince us, that neither the height of wit
nor genius can bring a man to ſuch a degree of per--
fection, as vanity would often prompt him to be
lieve.
In a diſquiſition of this ſort, I ſhall avoid as much
as poſſible any annotations upon chat kind of facire
in which the Dean indulged himſelt againſt particu-
lar perſons : moſt of whom it is probable provoked
his rage by their own miſconduct, and confequent-
ly owed to their own raſhneſs the wounds which
they received from his pen. But I have no delight
in thoſe kind of writings except for the ſake of the
wicz
f 2
Ixiv
A CRITICISM.
wit, which, either in general or in particular ſatire,
is equally to be admired. The edge of wit will al-
ways remain keen, and its blade will be bright and
ſhining, when the ſtone upon which it has been
whetted, is worn out, or thrown afide and forgot-
ten. Perſonal ſatire againſt civil magiſtrates, cor-
rupt miniiters, and thoſe giants of power, who
gorge themſelves with the entrails of their country,
is different from that perſonal fatire, which too of:
ten proceeds merely from ſelf-love or ill-nature.
The one is written in defence of the public, the o-
ther in defence of ourſelves. The one is armed by
the ſword of juſtice, and encouraged not only by
the voice of the people, but by the principles of
morality; the other is dictated by paflion, ſupport-
ed by pride, and applauded by flattery. As the
ſame time that I ſay this, I think every man of wit
has a right to laugh at fools, who give offence, and
at coxcombs, who are public nuiſances. Swift in.
deed has left no weapon of farcaſm untried, no
branch of ſatire uncultivated; but while he has
maintained a perpetual war againſt the mighty men
in power, he has remained invulnerable, if not
victorious.
See the criticiſms in yol. vii. p. 107. and in vol, ix. p. 258.
A
CON-
OVOGO9990
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OF A
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B.
[ Ixvi]
i
Set 959
$$**8722
CONT ENTS of VOL. I.
A
1
TALE of a TUB.
The author's apology
Treatiſes written by the ſame author, &c.
The bookſeller's dedication
The bookſeller to the reader
The epiſtle dedicatory, to Prince Poſterity
The preface
A tale of a tub
44-
18
19.
24
26
33
167
200
The battle of the books
168
A diſcourſe concerning the mechanical operati-
on of the ſpirit
An argument againſt aboliſhing chriſtianity 225
A. project for the advancement of religion 242
The fenti nents of a church of England-man
with reſpect to religion and government. · 268
wali
$
T
A
L
E
OF A
:
T
U
B.
Written for the univerſal improvement of mankind.
Diu multumque defideratum.
To which are added,
An Account of a BATTLE between the ancient and
modern BOOKS in St. James's Library; and,
A Diſcourſe concerning the MECHANICAL OPERATION
of the SPIRIT.
With the Author's APOLOGY; and,
Explana‘ory notes, by W. Wotrox, B. D. and oihers.
Baſyma cacabafa eanaa, irrqumifta diarbada cacola
bafohor camelanthi.
Iren, lib. 1. cap. 18.
Juvatque novos decerpere flores,
Infignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam,
Unde prius nulli velarunt tempora mufæ. Lucret,
The AUTHOR'S APOLOGY.
IF good and ill nature equally operated upon
mankind, I might have faved myſelf the trouble
of this apology; for it is manifeft, by the recep-
tion the following diſcourfe hath met with, that
VOL.I.
А
thoſe
2
A TALE OF A TUB.
thoſe who approve it, are a great majority among
the men of taſte. Yet there have been two or three
treatiſes written expreſsly againſt it, beſides many
others that have flirted at it occaſionally, without
one fyllable having been ever publiſhed in its de-
fence, or even quotation to its advantage, that I
can remember; exept by the polite author of a late
diſcourſe between a Deiſt and a Socinian.
Therefore, ſince the book ſeems calculated to
Hive at leaſt as long as our language and our taſte
admit no great alterations, I am content to convey
fome apology along with it.
The greateſt part of that book was finiſhed a-
bout thirteen years ſince, 1696; which is eight
years before it was publiſhed. The author was then
young, his invention at the height, and his read-
ing freſh in his head. By the aſſiſtance of ſome
thinking, and much converſation, he had endea-
voured to ſtrip himſelf of as many real prejudices
as he could: I ſay, real ones; becauſe under the
notion of prejudices, he knew to what dangerous
heights ſome men have proceeded. Thus prepar-
ed, he thought the numerous and groſs corrup-
tions in religion and learning might furniſh matter
for a fatire, that would be uſeful and diverting.
He reſolved to proceed in a manner that ſhould be
altogether new; the world having been already too
long nauſeated with endleſs repetitions upon every
ſubject. The abuſes in religion he propofed to ſet
forth in the allegory of the coats, and the three
brothers; which was to make up the body of the
diſcourſe: Thoſe in learning he choſe to introduce
by way of digreſſions. He was then a young gentle-
man much in the world; and wrote to the taft e of
thoſe who were like himſelf: Therefore, in order
to allure them, he gave a liberty to his pen, which
might not ſuit with maturer years, or graver
characters; and which he could have eafily cor-
rected
The Author's Apology.
3
rected with a very few blots, had he been maſter of
his papers for a year or two before their publication.
Not that he would have governed his judgment
by the ill-placed cavils of the four, the envious, the
ftupid, and the taſteleſs; which he inentions with
diſdain. He acknowledges there are ſeveral youth-
ful fallies, which, from the grave and the wife,
may deſerve a rebuke. But he deſires to be anfwer-
able no farther than he is guilty; and that his
faults may not be multiplied by the ignorant, the
unnatural, and uncharitable applications of thoſe,
who have neither candor to fuppofe good mean-
ings, nor palate to diſtinguiſh true ones. After
which, he will forfeit his life, if any one opinion
can be fairly deduced from that book, which is
contrary to religion or morality.
Why ſhould any clergyman of our church be
angry to ſee the follies of Fanaticiſm and Superſti-
tïon expoſed, though in the moſt ridiculous man-
ner ? ſince that is perhaps the moſt probable way
to cure them, or at leaft to hinder them from far-
ther ſpreading. Beſides, though it was not in-
tended for their peruſal, it rallies nothing but what
they preach againſt. It contains nothing to pro..
voke them by the least fcurrility upon their per-
fons or their functions. It celebrates the church of
England as the moſt perfect of all others in diſci-
pline and doctrine ; it advances no opinion they re-
ject, nor condemns any they receive. If the clergy's
refentments lay upon their hands, in my humble
opinion, they might have found more proper
objects to employ them on. Nondum tibi defuit hof-
Mis » I mean thoſe heavy, illiterate fcriblers, pro
ftitute in their reputations, vicious in their lives,
and ruined in their fortunes ; who, to the ſhame
of good fenſe, as well as piety, are greedily read,
merely upon the ſtrength of bold, falſe, impious
affertions, mixed with unmannerly reflections upon
the prieſthood, and openly intended againſt all re-
ligion;
A 2
4
A TALE OF A TUB.
are
move
ligion ; in hort, full of ſuch principles as
kindly received, becauſe they are levelled to re-
thoſe terrors, that religion
that religion tells men
will be the conſequence of immoral lives. Non
thing like which is to be met with in this diſcourfe,
though ſome of them are pleaſed fo freely to cen-
ſure it. And I wish there were no other inſtance
of what I have too frequently obſerved, that many
of that Reverend body are not always very nice in
diſtinguiſhing between their enemies and their
friends.
Had the author's intentions met with a more
candid interpretation from fome, whom out of
refpect he forbears to name, he might have been
encouraged to an examination of books written by
fome of thoſe authors above deſcribed; whoſe er.
rors, ignorance, dulneſs, and villany, he thinks he
could have detected and expoſed in ſuch a manner;
that the perſons who are moſt conceived to be in.
fected by them, would foon lay them aſide, and be
aſhamed. But he has now given over thoſe
thoughts; ſince the weightieſt men * in the weigh-
tieft ſtations, are pleafed to think it a more danger-
ous point, to laugh at thoſe corruptions in religion,
which they themſelves muſt diſapprove, than to en-
deavour pulling up thoſe very foundations wherein
all Chriſtians have agreed.
He thinks it no fair proceeding, that any perſon
thould offer determinately to fix a name upon the
author of this diſcourſe, who hath all along con-
cealed himſelf from moſt of his neareſt friends :
Yet ſeveral have gonea farther ſtep, and pronounced
another book * to have been the work of the ſame
hand with this; which the author directly affirms
to be a thorough miſtake, he having yet never fo
* Alluding to Dr. Sharp Archbiſhop of York's repreſentation of
the author.
Letter concerning enthalafm.
much
The Author's Apology.
5
much as read that diſcourſe : A plain inſtance how
little truth there often is in general ſurmiſes, or in
conjectures drawn from a fimilitude of ſtyle, or way
of thinking,
Had the author written a book to expoſe the a-
buſes in law, or in phyſic, he believes the learned
profeſſors in either faculty would have been ſo far
from reſenting it, as to have given him thanks for
his pains ; eſpecially if he had made an honour-
able reſervation for the true practice of either ſci-
ence. But religion, they tell us, ought not to be
ridiculed; and they tell ts truth: yet furely the
corruptions in it may ; for we are taught by the
triteſt maxim in the world, that religion being
the beſt of things, its corruptions are likely to be
the worſt.
There is one thing which the judicious reader
cannot but have obſerved, that ſome of thoſe paf-
ſages in this diſcourſe, which appcar moft liable to
objection, are what they call parodies, where the
author perſonates the ſtyle and manner of other
writers, whom he has a mind to expoſe.. Iſhall
produce one inſtance; it is in fect. 1. parag. 3.
from the end, Dryden, L'Eſtrange, and ſome
others I ſhall not name, are here levelled at; who,
having ſpent their lives in faction, and apoftafies,
and all inanner of vice, pretended to be ſufferers
for loyalty and religion. So Dryden tells us, in one
of his prefaces, of his merits and fufferings ; thanks
God, that he pollelles his foul in patience ; in other
places he talks at the ſame rate; and L'Eſtrange of
ten uſes the like ſtyle ; and I believe the reader
may find more perſons to give that paſſage an ap-
plication. But this is enough to direct thoſe who
may have overlooked the author's intention.
There are three or four other paſſages, which
prejudiced or ignorant readers have drawn, by
great force, to hint as ill meanings; as if they
glanced at fome tenets in religion. In anſwer to
all
A 3:
6
A TALE OF A TUB.
all which, the author ſolemnly proteſts he is entire-
ly innocent; and never had it once in his thoughts,
that any thing he ſaid would in the leaſt be capable
of ſuch interpretations; which he will engage to
deduce full as fairly from the moſt innocent book
in the world. And it will be obvious to every read.
cr, that this was not any part of his ſcheme or de-
fign; the abuſes he notes, being ſuch as all church-
of-England men agree in : nor was it proper for
his ſubject to ineddle with other points, than fuch
as have been perpetually controverted fince the re-
formation.
To inſtance only in that paffage about the three
wooden machines mentioned in the introduction :
In the original manuſcript there was a deſcription
of a fourth, which thoſe who had the papers in
their power, blotted out, as having ſomething in
it of ſatire, that, I ſuppoſe, they thought was too
particular; and therefore they were forced to
change it to the number three; from whence fome
have endeavoured to ſqueeze out a dangerous
meaning, that was never thought on,
And indeed
the conceit was half ſpoiled by changing the num-
bers; that of four being much more cabaliſtic, and
therefore better expoſing the pretended virtue of
numbers; a ſuperſtition there intended to be ridi-
culed.
Another thing to be obſerved is, that there ge-
nerally runs an irony through the thread of the
whole book; which the men of taſte will obſerve
and diſtinguiſh, and which will render fome ob-
jections that have been made, very weak and infig-
nificadt.
This apology being chiefly intended for the fatis-
faction of future readers, it may be thought unne-
ceſſary to take any notice of ſuch treatiſes as have
been written againſt the enſuing diſcourſe; which
are already funk into waſte paper and oblivion, af-
ter the uſual fate of common anſwerers to books
which
The Author's Apology.
7
which are allowed to have any merit. They are
indeed like annuals, that grow about a young tree,
and ſeem to vie with it for a ſummer; but fall and
die with the leaves in Autumn, and are never
heard of any inore.
When Dr. Eachard writ his
book about the contempt of the clergy, numbers of
thoſe anſwerers immediately ſtarted up, whoſe mc-
mory, if he had not kept alive by his replies, it
would now be utterly unknown that he were ever
anſwered at all. There is indeed an exception,
when any great genius thinks it worth his while to
expoſe a fooliſh piece. So we ſtill read Marvel's
anſwer to Parker * with pleaſure, though the book
it anſwers be funk long ago; ſo the Earl of Orre-
ry's remarks will be read with delight, when the
diſſertation he expoſes will neither be fought nor
found t. But there are no enterpriſes for common
hands, nor to be hoped for above once or twice in
an age. Men would be more cautious of loſing
their time in ſuch an undertaking, if they did but
conſider, that to anſwer a book effectually, requires
more pains and ſkill, more wit, learning, and judge-
ment, than were employed in the writing it. And
the author affures thoſe gentlemen who have given
themſelves that trouble with him, that his diſcourſe
is the product of the ſtudy, the obſervation, and
the invention of ſeveral years; that he often blot-
ted out much more than he left; and if his papers
had not been a long time out of his poffefſion, they
muſt have ſtill undergone more ſevere corrections.
And do they think ſuch a building is to be batter-
ed with dirt-pellets, however invenomed the
• Parker, afterwards Biſhop of Oxford, wrote many treatiſes a.
gainft the Diflenters, with infolence and contempt, ſays Burnet
that enraged them beyond meaſure : for which he was chaſtiſed by
Andrew Marvel, under-ſecretary to Milton, in a little book called,
I'be Rebearſal tranſproſed.
# Boyle's remarks upon Bentley's diſſertation on the epiftles of
Phalaris,
mouths
8 A TALE OF A TUB.
mour.
mouths may be that diſcharge them ? He hath feen
the productions but of two anſwerers ; one of
which at firſt appeared as from an unknown
hand, but ſince avowed by a perſon I, who, upon
fome occaſions hath diſcovered no ill vein of hu-
It is a pity any occaſion ſhould put him
under a neceſſity of being ſo hafty in his produc-
tions, which otherwiſe might often be entertaining.
But there were other reaſons obvious enough for
his miſcarriage in this: He writ againſt the convic-
tion of his talent, and entered upon one of the
wrongeſt attempts in nature, to turn into ridicule,
by a week's labour, a work, which had coft fo
much time, and met with ſo much ſucceſs in ridi-
culing others. The manner how he handled his
fubjež, I have now forgot; having juſt looked it
over, when it firſt came out, as others did, merely
for the ſake of the title *.
The other anſwer is from a perſon of a graver
character, and is made up of half invective, and
half annotationt; in the latter of which he hath
generally fucceeded well enough. And the pro-
ject, at that time, was not amiſs to draw in read-
ers to his pamphlet ; ſeveral having appeared defi-
rous, that there might be ſome explication of the
more difficult paffages. Neither can he be altoge-
ther blamed for offering at the invective part; be-
cauſe it is agreed on all hands, that the author had
Suppoſed to be Dr. William King, the civilian, author of an ac-
count of Denmark, a differtation on famplars, and other pieces of
burk fque on the Royal Society, and the art of cookery, in imitation
of Horace's art of poetry, &c.
* This we cannot recover at preſent, it being ſo abſolutely forgote
ten, the oldeft bookſellers in trade remember nothing of it.
+ Wotton's defence of his reflections upon ancient and modern
learning. From the annotations are ſelected the notes ligned, w.
Wotton. Thus Wotton appears buſied to illuftrate a work, which
he laboured to condemn, and adds force to a ſatire pointed againſt
himſelf: As captives were bound to the chariot-wheel of the victor,
and compelled to increaſe the pomp of his triumph, whom they had
in vain attempted to defeat.
given
The Author's Apology..
given him fufficient provocation. The great ob-
jection is againſt his manner of treating it, very
unſuitable to one of his function. It was determi.
ned by a fair majority, that this anſwerer had, in
a way not to be pardoned, drawn his pen againſt a
certain great man then alive, and univerſally reve-
renced for every good quality that could poſſibly
enter into the compoſition of the moſt accomplish-
ed perſon. It was obſerved, how he was pleaſed,
and affected to have that noble writer called his.
adverſary; and it was a point of fatire well direct-
ed; for I have been told, Sir William Temple was
fufficiently mortified at the term. All the men of
wit and politeneſs were immediately up in arms
through indignation, which prevailed over their
contempt, by the conſequences they apprehended
from frish an example; and it grew Porſenna's
cafe; idem trecenti juravimus. In ſhort, things
were ripe for a general infurrection, till my Lord. :
Orrery had a little laid the ſpirit, and fettled the
ferment. But, his. Lordſhip being principally en-
gaged with another antagoniſt *, it was thought ne-
ceſſary, in order to quiet the minds of men, that
this oppoſer ſhould receive a reprimand, which
partly occationed that diſcourſe of the Battle of the
books, and the author was farther at the pains to
inſert one or two remarks on him in the body of
the book.
This anſwerer has been pleaſed to find fault with
about a dozen paſſages, which the author will not
be at the trouble of defending, farther than by af-
furing the reader, that, for the greater part, the
reflecter is entirely miſtaken, and forces interpreta-
tions which never once entered into the writer's
head, nor will (he is fure) into that of any reader
of taſte and candor. He allows two or three at
moſt, there produced, to have been delivered un.
* Bentley, concerning Phalaris and Ælope
warily;
IO
A TALE OF A TUB.
warily; for which he deſires to plead the excufe
offered already, of his youth, and frankneſs of
ſpeech, and his papers being out of his power at the
time they were publiſhed.
But this anſwerer infifts, and ſays, what he chief-
ly diſlikes, is the deſign. What that was, I have
already told ; and I believe there is not a perſon in
England who can underſtand that book, that ever
imagined it to have been any thing elſe, but to ex-
poſe the abuſes and corruptions in learning and re-
ligion.
But it would be good to know what deſign this
reflecter was ſerving, when he concludes his pam-
phlet with a caution to the reader, to beware of
thinking the author's wit was entirely his own.
Surely this muſt have had ſome allay of perſonal
animofity, at leaſt mixed with the deſign of ferving
the public by ſo uſeful a diſcovery, and it indeed
touches the author in a tender point ; who infifts
upon it, that, through the whole book, he has not
borrowed one ſingle hint from any writer in the
world; and he thought, of all criticiſms, that
would never have been one. He conceived it was
never diſputed to be an original, whatever faults it
might have. However, this -anſwerer prodrices
three inſtances to prove this author's wit is not his
own in many places. The firſt is, that the names of
Peter, Martin, and fuck, are borrowed from a let-
ter of the late Duke of Buckingham *. Whatever
wit is contained in thoſe three names, the author
is content to give it up, and deſires his readers will
fubtract as much as they placed upon that account;
at the ſame time proteſting folemnly, that he never
once heard of that letter, except in this paffage of
the anſwerer: ſo that the names were not borrow-
ed, as he affirms, though they ſhould happen to be
the ſame ; which, however, is odd enough, and
Villers.
what
The Author's Apology.
what he hardly believes; that of Jack being not
quite ſo obvious as the other two. The ſecond in-
ftance to thew the author's wit is not his own, is Pe-
ter's banter (as he calls it in his Alfatia phraſe) up-
on tranfubftantiation, which is taken from the ſame
Duke's conference with an Iriſh prieſt, where a
cork is turned into a horſe. This the author con-
felles to have ſeen about ten years after his book
was written, and a year or two after it was publish-
ed. Nay, the anſwerer overthrows this himſelf;
for he allows the taie was written in 1697 ; and, I
think, that pamphlet was not printed in many years
after. It was neceffary, that corruption ſhould
have fome allegory as well as the reft; and the au-
thor invented the propereſt he could, without in-
quiring what other people had written ; and the
commoneft reader will find there is not the leaſt re-
ſemblance between the two ſtories. The third in-
ftance is in theſe words : I have been aſſured, that
the battle in St. James's library is, mutatis mutandis,
taken out of a French book, intitled, Combat des li-
vres, if I miſremember not. In which paſſage there
are two claufes obſervable : I have been aſured;
and, if I miſremember not. I deſire firſt to know,
whether, if that conjecture proves an utter falſe-
hood, thoſe two clauſes will be a ſufficient excuſe
for this worthy critic. The matter is a trifle : but
would he venture to pronounce at this rate upon
one of greater moment? I know nothing more
contemptible in a writer, than the character of a
plagiary; which he here fixes at a venture; and
this not for a paſſage, but a whole diſcourſe, taken
out from another book, only mutatis mutandis.
The author is as much in the dark about this, as
the anſwerer ; and will imitate him by an affirma-
tion at random; that if there be a word of truth
in this reflection, he is a paultry, imitating pedant,
and the anſwerer is a perſon of wit, manners, and
truth. He takes his boldneſs, from never having
feen
I 2
A A TALE OF TUB.
A TUB.
ſeen any ſuch treatiſe in his life, nor heard of it
before; and he is ſure it is impoſſible for two wri-
ters of different times and countries, to agree in
their thoughts after ſuch a manner, that two con-
tinued diſcourſes ſhall be the ſame, only mutatis
mutandis. Neither will he inſiſt upon the miſtake
in the title. But let the anſwerer and his friend
produce any book they pleaſe, he defies them to
thew one ſingle particular, where the judicious
rcader will affirm he has been obliged for the ſmall-
eſt hint; giving only allowance for the accidental
encountering of a ſingle thought, which he knows
may ſometimes happen ; though he has never yet
found it in that diſcourſe, nor has heard it object-
ed by any body elſe.
So that, if ever any deſign was unfortunately ex-
ecuted, it muſt be that of this anſwerer, who,
when he would have it obferved, that the author's
wit is none of his own, is able to produce but three
inſtances, two of them mere trifles, and all three
manifeſtly falſe. If this be the way theſe gentle-
man deal with the world in thoſe criticiſms where
we have not leiſure to defeat them, their readers
had need be cautious, how they rely upon their
credit; and whether this proceeding can be recon-
ciled to humanity or truth, let thoſe who think it
worth their while, determine.
It is agreed, this anſwerer would have ſucceeded
much better, if he had ſtuck wholly to his buſineſs,
as a commentator upon the Tale of a Tub, wherein
it cannot be denied, that he hath been of ſome fer-
vice to the public, and hath given very fair conjec-
tures towards clearing up fome difficult paffages.
But it is the frequent error of thoſe men, (other-
wife very commendable for their labours), to make
excurſions beyond their talent and their office, by
pretending to point out the beauties and the faults;
which is no part of their trade, which they always
fail in, which the world never expected from them,
nor
The Author's Apology.
13
But optat
ror give them any thanks for endeavouring at.
The part of Minelíius, or Farnaby *, would have
fallen in with his genius, and might have been ſer-
viceable to many readers, who cannot enter into
the abſtruſer parts of that diſcourſe.
ephippia bos piger : The dull, unwildy, ill-ſhaped
ox, would needs put on the furniture of a horſe,
not conſidering he was born to labour, to plough
the ground for the ſake of ſuperior beings; and
that he has neither the ſhape, mettle, nor ſpeed
of that noble animal he would affect to perfonate.
It is another pattern of this anſwerer's fair deal-
ing, to give us hints that the author is dead, and
yet to lay the fufpicion upon ſomebody, I know
not who, in the country. To which can only be
returned, that he is abſolutely miſtaken in all his
conjectures; and ſurely conjectures are, at beſt,
too light a pretence to allow a man to aflign a name
in public. He condemns a book, and confequent-
ly the author, of whom he is utterly ignorant; yet
at the ſame time fixes, in print, what he thinks a
diſadvantageous character upon thoſe who never
deſerved it. A man who receives a buffet in the
dark, may be allowed to be vexed; but it is an odd
kind of revenge, to go to cuffs in broad day with
the firſt he meets, and lay the laſt night's injury at
his door. And thus much for this diſcreet, candid,
pious, and ingenious anſwerer.
How the author came to be without his papers,
is a ſtory not proper to be told, and of very little
ufe, being a private fact, of which the reader would
believe as little, or as much, as he thought good.
He had however a blotted copy by him, which he
intended to have written over with many altera-
tions; and this the publiſhers were well aware of,
having put it into the bookſeller's preface, that they
* Low commentator:, who wrote notes upon claſſic authors for
the uſe of ſchoolboys,
VOL. I.
B
apprehen.deci
14
A TALE OF A TUB.
apprehended a ſurreptitious copy, which was to be al-
tered, &c. 'This, though not regarded by readers,
was a real truth; only the furreptious copy was ra-
ther that which was printed; and they made all the
haſte they could; which indeed was needleſs, the
author not being at all prepared. But he has been
told, the bookſeller was in much pain, having giv-
en a good ſum of money for the copy.
In the author's original copy there were not fo
many chaſis as appear in the book; and why ſome
of them were left, he knows not. Had the publi.
cation been truſted to him, he would have made
ſeveral corrections of paſſages againſt which no-
thing hath been ever objected. He would likewiſe
have altered a few of thoſe that ſeem with any
reaſon to be excepted againſt; but, to deal freely,
the greateſt number he ſhould have left untouched,
as never ſuſpecting it poſſible any wrong interpreta-
tions could be made of them.
The author obferves, at the end of the book
there is a diſcourſe, called, A fragment, which he
more wondered to ſee in print, than all the reſt;
having been a moſt imperfect ſketch, with the ad.
dition of a few looſe hints, which he once lent a
gentleman, who had deſigned a diſcourſe on ſome-
what the ſame ſubject. He never thought of it af-
terwards; and it was a fufficient ſurpriſe to fce it
pieced up together, wholly out of the method
and ſcheme he had intended; for it was the
ground-work of a much larger diſcourſe, and he
was ſorry to obſerve the materials fo fooliſhly ein-
ployed.
'Í'here is one farther objection made by thoſe
who have anſwered this book, as well as by ſome
others, That Peter is frequently made to repeat
oaths and curſes. Every reader obferves it was
neceſſary to know that Peter did fwear and curſe.
The oaths are not printed out, but only ſuppoſed;
and the idea of an oath is not immoral, like the i-
dea
The Author's Apology.
15
dea of a profane or immodeft fpeech. A man may
laugh at the Popiſh folly of curling people to hell,
and imagine them fwearing, without any crime;
but lewd words, or dangerous opinions, though
printed by halves, fill the reader's mind with ill in
deas : and of thefe the author cannot be accuſed.
For the judicious reader will find, that the ſevereſt
ftrokes of fatire, in his book, are levelled againſt
the modern cuſtom of employing wit upon thoſe
topics; of which there is a remarkable inſtance in
fect. 7. parag. 7. as well as in feveral others, though
perhaps once or twice exprefled in too free a man-
ner, excufable only for the reaſons already alledged.
Some overtures have been made, by a third hand,
to the bookſeller, for the author's altering thoſe
paffages which he thought might require it. But
it ſeems the bookfeller will not hear of any ſuch
thing, being apprehenſive it might ſpoil the file of
the book.
The author cannot conclude this apology, with-
out making this one reflection, That as wit is the
nobleſt and moſt uſeful gift of human nature,
fo
humour is the moſt agreeable ; and where theſe two
cnter far into the compoſition of any work, they
will render it always acceptable to the world. Now,
the great part of thoſe who have no ſhare or taite
of either, but by their pride, pedantry, and ill-
manners, lay themſelves bare to the laſhes of both,
think the blow is weak, becauſe they are infenfible;
and where wit hath any mixture of raillery, it is
bnt calling it banter, and the work is done. This
polite word of theirs was firſt borrowed from the
bullies in White-Friers, then fell among the foot-
men, and at laſt retired to the pedants; by whom
it is applied as properly to the productions of wit,
as if I ſhould apply it to Sir Iſaac Newton's mathe-
matics. But if this hantering, as they call it, be fa
defpiſable a thing, whence comes it' to paſs they
have ſuch a perpetual itch towards it thenfelves?
Το
B 2
16
A TALE OF A TUB.
To inſtance only in the anſwerer already mention
ed: It is grievous to ſee him, in ſome of his writ-
ings, at every turn going out of his way to be wag-
gifh, to tell us of a cow that pricked up her tail;
and in his anſwer to this diſcourſe, he fays, It is all
a farce and a laddle; with other paffages equally
ſhining. One may fay of theſe impedimenta litera-
rum, that wit owes them a ſhame; and, they cannot
take wiſer counſel, than to keep out of harm's
way, or at leaſt not to come till they are ſure they
are called.
To conclude : With thoſe allowances above re.
quired, this book ſhould be read; after which, the
author conceives, few things will remain, which
may not be excufed in a young writer. He wrote
only to the men of wit and taſte; and he thinks he
is not miſtaken in his accounts, when he ſays they
have been all of his fide, enough to give him the
vanity of telling his name; wherein the world;
with all its wiſe conjectures, is yet very much in the
dark, which circumſtance is no diſagreeable amuſe,
ment either to the public or himſelf.
The author is informed, that the bookſeller has
prevailed on ſeveral gentlemen to write ſome expla-
natory notes; for the goodneſs of which he is not
to anfwer, having never ſeen any of them, nor in
tending it till they appear in print; when it is not
unlikely he may have the pleaſure to find twenty
meanings, which never entered into his imagina:
tion,
June 3, 1709.
POSTSCRIPT,
SINCE the writing of this, which was about a
year ago, a proſtitute-bookfeller hath publiſhed
a fooliſh paper, under the name of Notes on the
Tale
The Author's Apology.
17
Tale of a Tub, with fame account of the author; and
with an inſolence, which I ſuppoſe is puniſhable
by law, hath preſuined to aſign certain names. It
will be enough for the author to affure the world,
that the writer of that paper is utterly wrong in all
his conjectures upon that affair. The author fur:
ther afferts, that the whole work is entirely of one
hand; which every reader of judgement will eaſily
diſcover : The gentleman who gave the copy to the
bookſeller, being a friend of the author, and uſing
no other liberties, beſides that of expunging cer-
tain paſſages, where now the chaſms appear under
the name of defiderata. But if any perfon will
prove his claiin to three lines in the whole book,
let him ſtep forth, and tell his name and titles
upon which, the bookſeller ſhall have orders to
prefix them to the next edition, and the claimant
Thall from henceforward be acknowledged the un-
difputed author..
Tuotiſes
[ 18 ]
Treatiſes written by the ſame author, m-ft of them
mentioned in the following diſcourſes; which will
be ſpeedily publiſbed.
A Character of the preſent ſet of wits in this
iſland.
A panegyrical eſſay upon the number three.
A differtation upon the principal productions of
Grubſtreet,
Letters upon a diffection of human nature.
A panegyric upon the world.
An analytical diſcourſe upon zeal, hiſtori-theo-
phyſi-logically conſidered.
A general hiſtory of ears.
A modeft defence of the proceedings of the rab-
Dle in all ages.
A defcription of the kingdom of abſurdities.
A voyage into England, by a perſon of quality
in Terra Auſtralis incognita, tranſlated from the o-
riginal.
A critical effay upon the art of canting, philofo-
phically, phyſically, and muſically, conſidered.
То
[ 19 ]
To the Right Honourable
JOIN LORD SOMMERS:
My LORD,
A Lthough the author has written a large dedica-
tion, yet that being addreſſed to a prince,
whom I am never likely to have the honour of be-
ing known to; a perſon, beſides, as far as I can
obferve, not at all regarded or thought on by any
of our prefent writers; and being wholly free from
that ſlavery which bookſellers uſually lie under to the
caprices of authors; I think it a wife piece of pre-
fumption, to infcribe theſe papers to your Lord-
ſhip, and to implore your Lordſhip’s protection of
them. God and your Lordſhip know their faults,
and their merits ; for, as to my own particular, 1
am altogether a ſtranger to the matter; and though
every body elſe ſhould be equally ignorant, I do
not fear the ſale of the book, at all the worſe, up-
on that ſcore. Your Lordſhip's name on the front
in capital letters, will at any time get off one edi-
tion: Neither would I deſire any other help to
grow an alderman, than a patent for the ſole pri-
vilege of dedicating to your Lordſhip.
I ſhould now, in right of a dedicator, give your
Lordſhip a liſt of your own virtues, and at the
ſame time be very unwilling to offend your mode-
ſty; but, chiefly, I ſhoald celebrate your liberality
towards men of great parts and ſmall fortunes,
and give you broad hints, that I mean myſelf.
And I was juſt going on, in the uſual method, to
peruſe a hundred or two of dedications, and tran-
fcribe
20
A TALE OF A TUB.
fcribe an abſtract, to be applied to your Lordſhip;
But I was diverted by a certain accident. For, up-
on the covers of theſe papers, I caſually obſerved,
written in large letters, the two following words,
DETUR DIGNISSIMO; which, for aught I
knew, might contain ſome important meaning.
But it unluckily fell out, that none of the authors
I employ underſtood Latin ; (though I have them
often in pay, to tranſlate out of that language.) I
was therefore compelled to have recourſe to the cu.
rate of our pariſh, who Englifhed it thus, Let it be
given to the worthieft. And his comment was, that
the author meant his works ſhould be dedicated to
the ſublimeft genius of the age, for wit, learning,
judgement, eloquence, and wiſdom. I called at a
poet's chamber, (who works for my ſhop), in an
alley hard by, ſhewed him the tranſlation, and de-
fired his opinion, who it was that the author could
mean. He told me, after fome confideration, that
vanity was a thing he abhorred; but, by the de.
ſcription, he thought himfelf to be the perſon aim-
ed at; and, at the ſame time, he very kindly offer-
ed his own affiftance gratis towards penning a de-
dication to himſelf. I deſired him, however, to
give a ſecond gueſs. Why then, ſaid he, it muſt
be I, or my Lord Sommers. From thence I went
to feveral other wits of my acquaintance, with no
fmáll hazard and wearineſs to my perſon, from a
prodigious number of dark, winding ſtairs; but
found them all in the ſame ſtory, both of your
Lordſhip and themſelves. Now, your Lordſhip is
to underſtand, that this proceeding was not of my
own invention ; for I have fomewhere heard it is a
maxim, That thoſe to whom every body allows
the ſecond place, have an undoubted title to the
firſt.
This infallibly convinced me, that your Lord.
Thip was the perſon intended by the author. But:
being very unacquainted in the ſtyle and form of
dedications,
The Bookſeller's Dedication.
dedications, I employed thoſe wits aforeſaid, to
furniſh me with hints and materials towards a pane-
gyric upon your Lordſhip's virtues.
In two days they brought me ten fheets of paper,
filled up on every fide. They ſwore to me, that
they had ranſacked whatever could be found in the
characters of Socrates, Ariſtides, Epaminondas,
Cato, Tully, Atticus, and other hard names,
which I cannot now recollect. However, I have
reaſon to believe, they impoſed upon my igno-
rance; becauſe, when I came to read over their
collections, there was not a fyllable there, but what
I and every body elſe knew as well as themſelves.
Therefore I grievouſly fufpect a cheat; and that
theſe authors of mine ſtole and tranſcribed every
word froin the univerſal report of mankind. So
that I look upon myſelf, as fifty ſhillings out of
pocket to no manner of purpoſe.
If, by altering the title, I could make the ſame
materials ferve for another dedication, as my bet-
ters have done), it would help to make up my lofs;
but I have made ſeveral perſons dip here and there
in thoſe papers; and before they read three lines,
they have all aſſured me plainly, that they cannot
poſſibly be applied to any perſon beſides your Lorde
ſhip.
I expected, indeed, to have heard of your Lord.
fhip's bravery at the head of an army; of your un.
daunted courage, in mounting a breach, or ſcaling
a vall; or to have had your pedigree traced in a
lineal defcent from the houſe of Auſtria ; or of
your wonderful talent at dreſs and dancing; or
your profound knowledge in algebra, metaphyſics,
and the oriental tongues. But to ply the world
with an old beaten ſtory of your wit, and elo-
quence, and learning, and wiſdom, and juſtice,
and politeneſs, and candor, and evenneſs of tem-
per in all ſcenes of life, of that great diſcernment
in diſcovering, and readineſs in favouring deſerving
men;
A TALE OF A TUB.
men; with forty other common topics; I confefs,
I have neither conſcience, nor countenance to do
it: becaufe there is no virtue, either of a public or
private life, which fome circumſtances of your own
have not often produced upon the ſtage of the
world; and thoſe few, which, for want of occa-
fions to exert them, might otherwiſe have paſſed
unſeen or unobſerved by your friends, your ene-
mies * have at length brought to light-
It is true, I ſhould be very loth, the bright ex-
ample of your Lordſhip's virtues ſhould be loft to
after ages, both for their fake and your own; but
chiefly, becauſe they will be ſo very neceſſary to a-
dorn the hiſtory of a late reign + : and that is ano-
ther reaſon why I would forbear to make a recital
of them here, becauſe I have been told by wife
men, that, as dedications have run for fome years
paſt, a good hiſtorian will not be apt to have re-
courſe thither, in fearch of characters.
There is one point, wherein I think we dedica-
tors would do well to change our meaſures; I
mean, inſtead of running on ſo far upon the praiſe
of our patrons liberality, to fpend a word or two in
admiring their patience. I can put no greater com-
pliment on your Lordſhip’s, than by giving
you fo
ample an occaſion to exerciſe it at preſent. Though
perhaps I fhall not be apt to reckon much merit to
your Lordſhip upon that ſcore, who having been
formerly ufed to tedious harangues, and ſome-
la. 1701, Lord Sommers was impeached by the Commons, who
either finding their proofs defe&t.ve, or for other reaſons, delayed
ceming to a trial; and the Lord: thereupon proccoded to the trial
without them, and acquitted him.
K. William's; whofe memory he defended in the Houſe of
Lords, againg ſome invidious reflections of the Earl of Nottingham,
* Sir John Sommers was Attorney-General; then made Lord
Keeper of the Szals in 1692, and Lord High Chancellor and Baron
of Evchan, in April 1697.
times
The Bookfeller's Dedication.
23
times to as little purpoſe, will be the readier to par-
don this; eſpecially when it is offered by one, who
is, with all reſpect and veneration,
My LORD,
Your Lordſhip's moſt obedient,
and moſt faithful ſervant,
THE BOOKSELLER.
.
тн Е
[ 24 ]
Τ Η Ε
BOOKSELLER
TO THE
R E A D E R.
IT. is now ſix years * ſince theſe papers came firſt
to my hand, which ſeems to have been about a
twelvemonth after they were written : For the au-
thor tells us in his preface to the firſt treatife, that
he hath calculated it for the year 1697: and in ſe-
veral paſſages of that diſcourſe, as well as the fe-
cond, it appears they were written about that
time.
As to the author, I can give no manner of fa-
eisfaction. However, I am credibly informed, that
this publication is without his knowledge ; for he
concludes the copy is loſt, having lent it to a per
fon, ſince dead, and being never in poffeffion of it
after: So that whether the work received his laſt
hand, or whether he intended to fill up the defec-
tive places, is like to remain a ſecret.
If I ſhould go about to tell the reader, by what
accident I became maſter of theſe papers, it would,
in this unbelieving age, paſs for little more than
the cant or jargon of the trade. I therefore glad-
ly ſpare both him and myſelf fo unneceſſary a trou-
The Tale of a Tub was firſt publiſhed in 1704.
ble.
The Bookſeller to the Reader.
25
ble. There yet remains a difficult queſtion, Why
I publiſhed them no ſooner? I forbore upon two
accounts: firſt, becauſe I thought I had better work
upon my hands; and ſecondly, becauſe I was not
without ſome hope of hearing from the author,
and receiving his directions. But I have been late-
ly alarmed with intelligence of a furreptitious co-
py t, which a certain great wit had new poliſhed
and refined; or, as our preſent writers expreſs
themſelves, fitted to the humour of the age; as they
have already done, with great felicity, to Don
Quixote, Boccalini, La Bruyere, and other au-
thors. However, I thought it fairer dealing to of-
fer the whole work in its naturals. If any gentle-
man will pleaſe to furniſh me with a key, in order
to explain the more difficult parts, I lhall very
gratefully acknowledge the favour, and print it by.
itſelf.
+ Sze the Apology, p. 13.
VOL.I.
с
Thc
t :26 ]
***************************
The EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
To his Royal Highneſs
PRINCE POS TERIT T.
SIR,
Here preſent your Highneſs with the fruits of a
very few leiſure-hours, ſtolen from the fhort
intervals of a world of buſineſs, and of an employ-
ment quite alien from ſuch amuſements as this, the
poor production of that refuſe of time which has
lain heavy upon my hands, during a long proroga-
tion of parliament, a great dearth of foreign news,
and a tedious fit of rainy weather. For which,
and other reaſons, it cannot chufe extremely to
deſerve ſuch a patronage as that of your Highneſs,
whoſe numberlefs virtues, in fo few years, make
the world look upon you as the fitture example to
all princes. For although your Highneſs is hardly
got clear of infancy, yet has the univerſal learned
world already reſolved upon appealing to your fu-
ture dictates with the loweſt and moſt refigned ſub-
miffion; fate having decreed you fole arbiter of the
productions of human wit, in this polite and moſt
accompliſhed age. Methinks, the number of ap-
The citation out of Irenæus in the title-page, which ſeems to be
all gibberiſ, is a form of initiation, uſed anciently by the Marepfian
heretics. W. Wotton.
It is the uſual ſtyle of decried writers, to appeal to Pofterity ; who
is here repreſented as a Prince in his nonage, and Time as his gover-
dor; and the author begins in a way very frequent with him, by
perſunating other writers, who fometimes offer ſuch reaſons and ex-
cuſes for pnbliſhing their works, as they ought thiefly to conceal,
and be aſhamed of.
pellants
The Dedication to Prince Pofterity. 27
pellants were enough to ſhock and ſtartle any judge
of a genius leſs unlimited than yours. But, in or-
der to prevent ſuch glorious trials, the perfon, it
feems, to whole care the education of your High-
neſs is committed, has reſolved (as I am told) to
keep you in almoſt an univerſal ignorance of our
ftudies, which it is your inherent birthright to in-
fpect.
It is amazing to me, that this perſon ſhould have
aſſurance, in the face of the fun, to go about per-
fuading your Highneſs, that our age is almoſt whol-
ly illiterate, and has hardly produced one writer
upon any ſubject. I know very well, that when
your Highneſs ſhall come to riper years, and have
gone through the learning of antiquity, you will be
coo curious to neglect enquiring into the authors of
the very age before you. And to think that this
is: olerit, in the account he is preparing for your
view, defigns to reduce them to a number fo infig-
nificant as I am aſhamed to mention : It moves my
żeal and my ſpleen for the honour and intereſt of
our vaft flouriſhing body, as well as of myſelf, for
whom I know, by long experience, he has profeff-
ed, and ſtill continues, a peculiar malice.
It is not unlikely, that when your Highneſs will
one day peruſe what I am now writing, you may be
ready to expoftulate with your governor upon the
credit of what I here affirm, and command him to
fhew you ſome of our productions. To which he
will anſwer, (før I am well informed of his de-
ſigns)), by aſking your Highneſ, Where they are?
and, what is become of them? and pretend it a
demonſtration that there never were any, becauſe
they are not then to be found. Not to be found !
Who has millaid them ? Are they ſunk in the abyſs
of things?: It is certain, that in their own nature
they were light enough to ſwim upon the ſurface
for all eternity. Therefore the fault is in him,
who tied weights ſo heavy to their heels, as to de-
C 2
preſs
.
28
A TALE OF A TUB.
de palais ; till Charles Martel, the laſt mayor, put his maſter
preſs them to the centre. Is their very eſſence de-
ſtroyed! who has annihilated them were they
drowned by purges, or martyred by pipes? who
adminiſtered them to the poſteriors of
But that it may no longer be a doubt with your
Highneſs, who is to be the author of this univerſal
ruin , I beſeech you to obferve that large and ter-
rible Scythe, which your governour affects to bear
continually about him. Be pleaſed to remark
the length and ſtrength, the ſharpneſs and
hardneſs of his nails and teeth
nails and teeth ; conſider his
baneful, abominable breath, enemy to life and
matter, infectious and corrupting; and then reflect,
whether it be poſſible for any mortal ink and paper
of this generation to make a ſuitable reſiſtance.
Oh! that your Highneſs would one day reſolve to
difarm this ufurping maitre du palais * of his fu-
rious engines, and bring your empire hors de
It were endleſs to recount the ſeveral methods
of tyranny and deſtruction which your governor
is pleaſed to practiſe upon this occaſion. His in.
veterate malice is ſuch to the writings of our age,
that of ſeveral thouſands produced yearly from this,
renowed city, before the next revolution of the
fun there is not one to be heard of : Unhappy in-
fants, many of them barbarouſly deſtroyed, before.
they have ſo much as learned their mother tongue to
beg for pity. Some he ſtifies in their cradles; 0-
thers he frights into convulſions, whereof they ſud-
denly die: Some ḥe flays alive, others he tears
limb from limb: Great numbers are offered to
1 Comptroller. The kingdom of France hała race of kings, which
they call ls roys faineans (from their doing nothir.g) who lived la-
zily in their apartments, while the kingdom was adminiſtered by the
Rayor
to death, and took the kingdom into his own hand.
t Out of guardianſhip.
Moloch
;
page t.
:
The Dedication to Prince Poſterity.
Moloch; and the reſt, tainted by his breath, die
of a languiſhing conſumption.
But the concern I have moſt at heart, is for our
corporation of poets; from whom I am preparing a
petition to your Highneſs, to be ſubſcribed with the
names of one hundred thirty-ſix of the firſt rate;
but whoſe immortal productions are never likely to
reach your eyes, though each of them is now an
liumble and an earneſt appellant for the laurel, and
has large comely volumes ready to fhew for a fup-
port to his pretenſions. The never dying works of
theſe illuſtrious perſons, your governor, Sir, has
devoted to unavoidable death; and your Highneſs is
to be made believe, that our age has never arrived
at the honour to produce one ſingle poet.
We confefs Immortality to be a great and power-
full goddeſs, but in vain we offer up to her our de-
votions and our facrifices, if your Highneſs's gover-
nor, who has uſurped the prieſthood, muít; by an
unparallelled ambition and avarice, wholly inter-
cept and devour them.,
To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned,
and devoid of writers in any kind, ſeems to be an
affertion fo bold and ſo falſe, that I have been
ſometime thinking, the contrary may almoft be
proved by uncontroulable demonſtration. It is true
indeed, that although their numbers be vaft, and
their productions numerous in proportion; yet are
they hurried ſo haftily off the ſcene, that they eſcape
our memory, and elude our ſight. When I first
thought of this addreſs, I had prepared a copious
lift of titles to preſent your Highneſs, as an undir-
puted argument for what I affirm. The originals
were poſted freſh upon all gates and corners of
ſtreets; but, returning in a very few hours to take
a review, they were all torn down, and freſh ones
in their places. I enquired after them among read-
ers and bookſellers; but enquired in vain ; the me
morial of them was loft among men, their place was
C 3
no
zo
A TALE OF A TUB.
no more to be found: and I was laughed to ſcorn for
a clown and a pedant, without all taſte and refine-
ment, little verſed in the courſe of preſent affairs,
and that knew nothing of what had paſſed in
the beſt companies of court and town. So that I
can only avow in general to your Highneſs, that we
do abound in learning and wit ; but to fix upon par-
ticulars, is a talk too ſlippery for my ſlender abili-
ties. If I ſhould venture in a windy day to affirm
to your Highneſs, that there is a large cloud near
the horizon, in the form of a bear, another in the
zenith, with the head of an aſs, a third to the weſt-
ward, with claws like a dragon ; and your Highneſs
ſhould in a few minutes think fit to examine the
truth; it is certain, they would all be changed in
figure and poſition ; new ones would ariſe, and
all we could agree upon, would be, that clouds
there were, but that I was groſsly miſtaken in the
soogrophy and topography of them.
But your governor perhaps may ſtill infift, and
put the queſtion, What is then become of thoſe
immenſe bales of paper, which muſt needs have
been employed in ſuch numbers of books ? Can
theſe alſo be wholly annihilate, and ſo of a ſudden,
as I pretend? What ſhall I ſay in return of ſo in-
vidious an objection ? It ill befits the diſtance be-
tween your Highneſs and me, to ſend you for ocular
conviction to a jakes or an oven; to the windows
of a bawdy-houſe, or to a ſordid lantern. Books,
like men, their authors, have no more than one
way of coming into the world; but there are ten
thonfand to go out of it, and return no more.
I profefs to your Highneſs, in the integrity of my
heart, that what I am going to ſay, is literally true
this minute I am writing. What revolutions may
happen before it ſhall be ready for your peruſal, I
can by no means warrant; however, I beg you to
accept it as a ſpecimen of our learning, our polite-
neſs, and our wit. I do therefore affirm, upon
the
I Dedication to Prince Poſterity. 31
ilie word of a ſincere man, that there is now actu-
ally in being a certain poet, called John Dryden,
whoſe tranſlation of Virgil was lately printed in a
large folio, well bound, and if diligent ſearch were
made, for aught I know, is yet to be ſeen. There
is another, called Nahum Tate, who is ready to
inake oath, that ise has cauſed inany reams of verſe
to be publiſhed, whereof both himſelf and his book-
feller (if lawfully required) can ſtill produce au-
thentic copies ; and therefore, wonders why the
world is pleaſed to make ſuch a ſecret of it.
There is a third, known by the name of Tom Dur-
fey, a poet of a vaſt comprchenfion, an univerſal
genius, and moſt profound learning. There are
alſo one Mr. Rymer, and one Mr. Dennis, moſt
profound critics. There is a perſon ſtyled Dr.
Bentley, who has written near a thouſand pages of
immenfe erudition, giving a full and true account of
a certain ſquabble of wonderful importance between
himſelf and a bookſeller *. He is a writer of infinite
wit and humour; noman rallies with a better grace,
and more ſprightly turns. Farther, I avow to
your Highneſs, that with theſe eyes I have beheld
the perſon of William Wotton, B. D. who has writ-
ten a good ſizeable volume againſt a friend of your
governor + (from whom, alas, he muſt therefore
look for little favour) in a moſt gentlemanly ſtyle,
adorned with the utmoſt politeneſs and civility;
replete with diſcoveries, equally valuable for their
novelty and uſe; and embelliſhed with traits of
wit, fo poignant and fo appofite, that he is a wor-
thy yokemate to his forementioned friend,
Why ſhould I go upon farther particulars, which
might fill a volume with the juſt eulogies of my
* Bentley, in his controverſy with Lord Orrery upon the genuine-
neſs of Phalaris's cpiſtles, has given, in a preface, a long account of
his dialogues with a bookſeller, about the loan and reftitution of a
MS.
+ Sir Williana Temple,
contemporary
32
A TALE OF A TUB
contemporary brethren? I ſhall bequeath this piece
of juſtice to a larger work; wherein I intend to
write a character of the preſent ſet of wits in our
nation. Their perſons I ſhall deſcribe particularly,
and at length; their genius and underſtandings, in
mignature.
In the mean time, I do here make bold to pre-
fent your Highneſs with a faithful abſtract drawn
from the univerſal body of all arts and ſciences, in-
tended wholly for your ſervice and inſtruction.
Nor do I doubt in the leaſt, but your Highneſs will
peruſe it as carefully, and make as conſiderable im.
provements, as other young princes have already
done by the many volumes, of late years, written
for a help to their ſtudies *
That your Highneſs may advance in wiſdom and
virtue, as well as years, and at laſt outſhine all
your royal anceſtors, ſhall be the daily prayer of, -
SIR,
Dec, 1697
Your Highneſs's
Moſt devoted, &c.
There were innumerable books printed for the uſe of the
Dauphin of France.
THE
[ 33 ]
Τ Η. Ε.
P R E F A CE.
HE wits of the preſent age being ſo very nu-
merous and penetrating, it ſeems the gran-
dees of church and fate begin to fall under hor-
rible apprehenſions, left theſe gentlemen, during the
intervals of a long peace, ſhould find leiſure to pick
boles in the weak
fides of religion and government,
To prevent which, there has been much thought
employed of late upon certain projects for taking
off the force and edge of thoſe formidable inquir-
ers, from canvaſſing and reaſoning upon ſuch deli-
cate points. They have at length fixed upon one,
which will require ſome time as well as coſt to per-
fect. Mean while, the danger hourly increafing,
by new levies of wits, all appointed as there is rea-
fon to fear) with pen, ink, and paper, which may,
at an hour's warning, be drawn out into pamphlets,
and other offenſive weapons, ready for immediate
execution; it was judged of abfolute neceffity, that
fome preſent expedient be thought on, till the main
deſign can be brought to maturity. To this end,
at a grand committee, ſome days ago, this import-
ant diſcovery was made by a certain curious and re-
fined obſerver, That ſeamen have a cuſtom, when
they meet a whale, to fling him out an empty tub
by way of amuſement, to divert him from laying
violent hands upon the fhip. This parable was im-
inediately mythologiſed. The whale was interpret-
ed to be Hobbes's Leviathan; which toffes and plays
with all ſchemes of religion and government, where
of
34
A TALE OF A TUB.
of a great many are hollow, and dry, and empty,
and noiſy, and wooden, and given to rotation,
This is the Leviathan, from whence the terrible wits
of our age are faid to borrow their weapons. The
Jhip in danger, is eaſily underſtood to be its old an-
titype, the commonwealth. But how to analyſe the
tub, was a matter of difficulty; when, after long
inquiry and debate, the literal meaning was preſerv-
cd: and it was decreed, that, in order to prevent
thefe Leviathans from toffing and ſporting with the
commonwealth, which of itſelf is too apt to fluctuate,
they ſhould be diverted from that game by a Tale
of a Tub. And my genius being conceived to lie
not unhappily that way, I had the honour done mc
to be engaged in the performance.
This is the ſole delign in publiſhing the following
treatiſe; which I hope will ferve for an interim of
fomc months to employ thoſe unquiet ſpirits, till the
perfeting of that great work: into the ſecret of
which, it is reaſonable the courteous reader Tould
have fome little light,
It is intended, that a large academy be erected,
capable of containing nine thouſand feven hundred
forty and three perfons; which, by modeft compu-
tation, is -reckoned to be pretty near the current
number of wits in this iſland.. Theſe are to be dir-
poſed into the ſeveral ſchools of this academy, and
there purſue thoſe ſtudies to which their genius moſt
inclines them. The undertaker himſelf will publiſh
his propoſals with all convenient fpeed; to which I
fhall refer the curious reader for a more particular
account, mentioning at preſent only a few of the
principal ſchools. There is, firſt, a large pederaſtic
ſchool, with French and Italian maſters: there is,
alſo, the ſpelling ſchool, a very ſpacious building; the
ſchool of looking-glaſes; the ſchool of ſwearing;
the ſchool of critics; the ſchool of falivation; the
fchool of hobby-horſes; the ſchool of poetry, the
ſchool ,
The Preface.
35
ſchool of tops*; the ſchool of ſpleen; the ſchool of
gaming; with many others too tedious to recount.
No perſon to be admitted member into any of theſe
ſchools, without an atteſtation under two fufficient
perſons hands, certifying him to be a wit.
But to return: I am ſufficiently inſtructed in the
principal duty of a preface, if my genius were ca-
pable of arriving at it. Thrice have I forced my
imagination to make the tour of my invention, and
thrice it has returned empty; the latter having been
wholly drained by the following treatiſe. Not ſo
iny more ſucceſsful brethren the moderns, who will
by no means let flip a preface or dedication, with-
out ſome notable diſtinguiſhing ſtroke to ſurpriſe
the reader at the entry, and kindle a wonderful
expectation of what is to enſue. Such was that of
· a moſt ingenious poet, who, foliciting his brain for
tomething new, compared himſelf to the hangmar,
and his patron to the patient. This was inſigne, re-
cens, indielum ore aliot. When I went through that
neceſſary and noble courſe of ſtudy 1, I had the happi-
nefs to obſerve many ſuch egregious touches; which
ſhall not injure the authors by tranſplanting; be-
cauſe I have remarked, that nothing is ſo very tender
as a modern piece of wit, and which is apt to ſuffer fo
much in the carriage. Some things are extremely
witty to-day, or fafting, or in this place, or at eight a
clock, or over a bottle, or ſpoke by Mr.What d'y'callm,
or in a ſummer's morning; any of the which, by the
fmalleſt tranfpofal or miſapplication, is utterly an-
nihilate. Thus Wit has its walks and purlicus, our
of which it may not ſtray the breadth of an hair,
This I think the author ſhould have omitted, it being of the
very fame nature with the fobool of. bubby borſes, if one may venture
to cenſure onc, who is fo fevere a cenſurer of others, perhaps nich
too little diftin&tiun.
# Hor. Something extraordinary, new, and never hit upon be.
fore.
1 Reading prefaces, &c.
upon
38
A TALE OF A TUB.
upon peril of being loft. The moderns have art.
fully fixed this mercury, and reduced it to the cir-
cumſtances of time, place, and perfon. Such a
jeſt there is, that will not paſs out of Covent-gar-
den; and ſuch a one, that is no where intelligible
but at Hyde-park corner. Now, though it fome-
times tenderly affects me, to conſider, that all the
towardly paſſages I ſhall deliver in the following
treatile, will grow quite out of date and reliſh with
the firſt ſhifting of the preſent ſcene; yet I muit
needs ſubſcribe to the juſtice of this proceeding;
becauſe I cannot imagine why we fhould be at ex-
pence to furniſh wit for ſucceeding ages, when the
former have made no ſort of proviſion for ours :
wherein I ſpeak the ſentiment of the very neweſt,
and conſequently the moſt orthodox refiners, as
well as my own. However, being extremely fo-
licitous, that every accomplithed perſon, who has
got into the taſte of wit calculated for this preſent
month of Auguft 1097, ſhould deſcend to the very
bottom of all the fublime throughout this treatiſe
I hold fit to lay down this general maxim : What-
ever reader delires to have a thorough comprehen-
fion of an author's thoughts, cannot take a better
method, than by putting himſelf into the circum-
ſtances and poſtures of life, that the writer was
in upon every important paſſage, as it flowed from
his pen: for this will introduce a parity and ſtrict
correſpendence of ideas between the reader and the
author. Now, to affift the diligent reader in fo
delicate an affair, as far as brevity will permit, I
have recollected, that the threrdeſt pieces of this
treatiſe were conceived in bed, in a garret. Ato-
ther times, for a reaſon beſt known to myſelf, I
thought fit to ſharpen my invention with hunger;
and, in general, the whole work was begun, con-
tinued, and ended, under a long courſe of phyſic,
and a great want of money. Now, I do affirm,
it will be abfolutely impoſſible for the candid per-
uſer
The Preface.
37
uſer to go along with me in a great many bright
paſages, unleſs upon the ſeveral difficulties emer:
gent, he will pleaſe to capacitate and prepare him-
felf by theſe directions. And this I lay down as
iny principal poſtulatum.
Becauſe I have profeſſed to be a moſt devoted
fervant of all modern forms, I apprehend ſome cu-
rious wit may object againſt me, for proceeding
thus far in a preface, without declaiming, accord-
ing to the cuſtom, againſt the multitude of writers,
whereof the whole multitude of writers most rea-
fonably complain. I am juſt come from peruſing
fome hundreds of prefaces, wherein the authors do
at the very beginning addreſs the gentle reader con-
cerning this enormous grievance. Of theſe I have
preſerved a few examples, and ſhall ſet them down
as near as my memory has been able to retain
them.
One begins thus:
For a man to ſet up for a writer, when the preſs
ſwarms with, &c.
Another:
The tax upon paper does not lejen the number of
fcribblers, who daily peſter, &c.
Another:
When every little would-be wit takes pen in hand,
'ris in vain to enter the lifts, &c.
Another :
To obſerve what traſh the preſs ſwarms with, &c.
Another:
Sir, It is merely in obedience to your commands,
that í venture into the public; for who, upon a lefs
confideration, would be of a party with ſuch a rabble
of fcribblers, &c.
Now, I have two words in my own defence a-
gainſt this objection. Firſt, I am far from grant-
ing the number of writers a nuiſance to our na-
tion, having ftrenuouſly maintained the contrary
in ſeveral parts of the following diſcourſe. Second.
VOL.I.
D
ly,
38
A TALE OF A TUB.
ly, I do not well underſtand the juſtice of this pro
ceeding; becauſe I obſerve many of theſe polite
prefaces to be not only from the fame hand, but
from thoſe who are moſt voluminous in their feve.
ral productions. Upon which I ſhall tell the read-
er a ſhort tale
A mountebank, in Leicefter-fields, had drawn a
huge afſembly about him. Among the reſt, a fat
unweildy fellow, half-ftifled in the preſs, would be
every fit crying out, Lord! what a filthy croud is
here? Pray, good people, give way a little. Bleſs
me! what a devil has raked this råbble together ?
Z-ds, what ſqueezing is this! Honeſt friend,
remove your elbow. At laſt, a weaver, that ſtood
next hiin, could hold no longer: A plague con-
found you (faid he) for an overgrown floven; and
who, in the devil's name, I wonder, helps to make
up the croud half ſo much as yourſelf? Don't you
conſider, with a pox, that you take up more room
with that carcaſe than any five here? Is not the
place as free for us as for you? Bring your own
guts to a reaſonable compats, and be d-n'd; and
then I'll engage we ſhall have room enough for us
all.
There are certain common privileges of a writer,
the benefit whereof, I hope, there will be no rea-
ſon to doubt; particularly, that, where I am not
underſtood, it Thall be concluded, that fomething
very uſeful and profound is couched underneath";
and again, that whatever word or fentence is print-
ed in a different character, ſhall be judged to con-
tain ſomething extraordinary either of wit or ſub
lime.
As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of
praiſing myſelf upon fome occafions or none; I am
ſure it will need no excuſe, if a multiude of great
examples be allowed ſufficient authority. For it is
here to be noted, that praiſe was originally a pen-
fiòn paid by the world: but the moderns, finding
the
The Preface.
39
the trouble and charge too great in collecting it,
have lately bought out the fee-fimple; ſince which
time, the right of preſentation is wholly in ourſelves.
For this reaſon it is, that when an author makes
his own eulogy, he uſes a certain form to declare
and inlift upon his title; which is commonly in
theſe or the like words, I ſpeak without virity:
which I think plainly ſhews it to be a matter of right
and juſtice. Now, I do here once for all declare,
that in every encounter of this nature, through the
following treatiſe, the form aforeſaid is implied;
which I mention, to ſave the trouble of repeating
it on ſo many occaſions..
It is a great eafe to my conſcience, that I have
written, ſo elaborate and uſeful a diſcourſe without
one grain of ſatire intermixed; which is the ſole
point wherein I have taken leave to diffent from the
famous originals of our age and country. I have
obſerved fome ſatiriſts to uſe the public much at the
rate that pedants do a naughty boy ready horſed
for diſcipline : firſt, expoftulate the caſe, then plead
the neceſſity of the rod, from great provocations,
and conclude every period with a lath. Now, if I
know any thing of mankind, theſe gentlemen might
very well ſpare their reproof and correction : for
there is not, through all nature, another fo callous
and inſenſible a member as the world's pofteriors,
whether you apply to it the toe or the birch. Be-
fides, moſt of our late fatiriſts feem to lie under a
fort of miſtake, that becauſe nettles have the pre-
rogative to fting, therefore all other wiedt mult do
fo too. I make not this compariſon out of the
leaſt deſign to detract from theſe worthy writers :
for it is well known among mythologiſts, that weeds
have the preheminence over all other vegetables ;
and therefore the firſt monarch of this iſland, whoſe
taſte and judgement were ſo acute and refined, did
very wiſely root out the roſes from the collar of the
order, and plant the thifiles in their ſtead, as the
nobler
D 2
A TALE OF A TUB.
40
nobler flower of the two. For which reaſon it is
conjectured by profound antiquaries, that the fati-
rical itch, ſo prevalent in this part of our iſland,
was firſt brought among us from beyond the Tweed.
Here may it long flouriſh and abound. May it fur-
vive and neglect the ſcorn of the world, with as
much eaſe and contempt, as the world is inſenſible
to the laſhes of it. May their own dulneſs, or that
of their party, be no diſcouragement for the au-
thors to proceed; but let them remember, it is with
wits as with razors, which are never ſo apt to cut
thoſe they are employed on, as when they have loſt
their edge. Beſides, thoſe whoſe teeth are too rok-
ten to bite, are beft, of all others, qualified to re-
venge that defect with their breath.
I am not, like other men, to envy or undervalue
the talents I cannot reach; for which reaſon I muft
needs bear a true honour to this large eminent feet
of our Britiſh writers. And I hope, this little pa-
negyric will not be offenſive to their ears, fince it
has the advantage of being only deſigned for them-
felves. Indeed, Nature herſelf has taken order,
that fame and honour ſhould be purchaſed at a
better pennyworth by fatire, than by any other
productions of the brain; the world being ſooneft
provoked to praiſe by labes, as men are to love.
There is a problem in an ancient author, why de-
dications, and other bundles of flattery, run all
upon ftale muſty topics, without the ſmalleſt tinc-
ture of any thing new; not only to the torment
and nauſeating of the Chriſtian reader, but, if not
fuddenly prevented, to the univerſal ſpreading of
that peftilent diſeaſe, the lethargy, in this iſland:
whereas there is very little ſatire which has not
ſomething in it untouched before. The defects of
the former are uſually imputed to the want of in-
vention among thoſe who are dealers in that kind;
but, I think, with a great deal of injuſtice; the fo-
lution being eaſy and natural. . For the materials
of
The Preface.
2ịI
of panegyric, being very few in number, have been
long lince exhauſted. For as health is but one
thing, and has been always the fame : whereas diſ-
caſes are by thouſands, betides new and daily addi-
tions: ſo all the virtues that have been ever in inan-
kind, are to be counted upon a few fingers; but
his follies and vices are innumerable, and time adds
hourly to the heap. Now, the utmoſt a poor poet
can do, is to get by heart a liſt of the cardinal vir-
tues, and deal thein with his utmoſt liberality to
his hero or his patron. He may ring the changes
as far as it will go, and vary his phrafe till he has
talked round: but the reader quickly finds it is all
pork*, with a very little variety of fauce. For there
is no inventing terms of art beyond our ideas; and
when our ideas are exhauſted, terins of art muſt be
ſo too.
But though the matter for panegyric werc as
fruitful as the topics of fatire, yet would it not be
hard to find out a ſufficient reaſon, why the latter
will be always better received than the frít. For
this being beſtowed only upon one, or a few per-
ſons at a time, is ſure to raiſe envy, and confc-
quently ill words, from the reſt, who have no that:
in the bleſſing. But ſatire, being levelled at all, is
never reſented for an offence by any; ſince every
individual perfon makes bold to underſtand it of
others, and very wifely removes his particular part
of the burdent upon the thoulders of the world,
which are broad endngh, and able to bear it. 'To
this purpoſe, I have fometimes reflected upon the
difference between Athens and England with re-
fpect to the poiat before us. In the Attic com-
monwealth t, it was the privilege and birthrighit of
every citizen and poce, to rail aloud, and in public,
or to expoſe upon the ſtage by name, any perſon
. Plutarch,
+ Vid. Xenoph.
D3
they
42
A TALE OF A TUB.
they pleaſed, though of the greateſt figure, whe-
ther a Creon, an Hyperbolus, an Alcibiades, or a
Demoſthenes. But, on the other ſide, the left re-
flecting word let fall againſt the people in general,
was immediately caught up, and revenged upon the
authors, however conſiderable for their quality or
merits. Whereas in England it is juſt the reverſe
of all this. Here, you may ſecurely diſplay your
utmoſt rhetoric againſt mankind, in the face of the
world, tell them, That all are gone aſtray ; that
there is none that doth good, no not one; that we live
in the very dregs of time ; that knavery and atheiſm
are epidemic as the pox ; that honeſty is Aled with A-
Nræa; with any other common places, equally new
and eloquent, which are furniſhed by the ſplendida
bilis I. And when you have done, the whole au-
dience, far from being offended, ſhall return you
thanks, as a deliverer of precious and uſeful truths.
Nay farther, it is but to venture your lungs, and
you may preach in Covent-garden againſt foppery
and fornication, and ſomething elſe ; againſt pride
and diffimulation, tpd bribery, at White-hall: you
may expofe rapine and injuſtice in the inns of court
chapel; and, in a city pulpit, be as fierce as you
pleaſe againſt avarice, hypocrify, and extortion. It
is but a ball bandied to and fro, and every man car-
ries a racket about him to ſtrike it from himſelf a.
mong the reſt of the company. But, on the other
Gde, whoever ſhould miſtake the nature of things
ſo far, as to drop but a ſingle hint in public, how
ſuch a one ſtarved half the fleet, and half-poiſoned
the reſt; how ſuch a one, from a true principle of
love and honour, pays no debts but for Wenches and
play; how ſuch a one has got a clap, and runs out
of his eftate ; how Paris, bribed by Juno and Ve.
1 Hor. Sflection
nus,
The Preface.
43
nus *, loth to offend either party, ſlept out the
whole cauſe on the bench; or, how ſuch an orator
makes long ſpeeches in the ſenate with much thought,
little fenfe, and to no purpoſe : whoever, I ſay,
ſhould venture to be thus particular, muſt expect
to be impriſoned for fcandalum magnatum ; to have
challenges fent him; to be ſued for defamation; and
to be brought before the bar of the houſe.
But I forget that I am expatiating on a ſubject
wherein I have no concern, having ncither a talent
nor an inclination for ſatire ! On the other ſide, I
am fo entirely fatisfied with the whole preſent pro-
cedure of human things, that I have been ſome
years preparing materials towards A panegyric upon
the world; to which I intended to add a ſecond part,
intitled, A modeft defence of the proceedings of the
rabble in all ages. Both theſe I had thoughts to
publiſh, by way of appendix to the following trea-
tiſe; but, finding my common-place book fill inuch
flower than I had reaſon to expect, I have choſen
to defer them to another occaſion. Beſides, I have
been unhappily prevented in that deſign by a certain
domeſtic misfortune: in the particulars whereof,
though it would be very ſeaſonable, and much in
the modern way, to inform the gentle reader, and
would alſo be of great affiftance towards extending
this preface into the ſize now in vogue, which by
rule ought to be large, in proportion as the fubfe-
quent volume is ſmall; yet I ſhall now diſmiſs our
impatient reader from any farther attendance at the
porch, and having duly prepared' his mind by a
preliminary diſcourſe, ſhall gladly introduce him to
the ſublime myſteries that enſue.
• Juno and Venus, are money and a miſtreſs; very powerful
bribes to a judge, if ſcandal ſays true. I remember ſuch reflections
were caſt about that time, but I cannot fix the perſon intended
bere.
A
[ 44 ]
家贫​家​。
కుల
A TALE OF A T U B*
SECT. I.
The INTRODUCTION+
.
Hoever hath an ambition to be heard in a
croud, muſt preſs, and ſqueeze, and
thruit, and climb, with indefatigable pains, till he
has.exalted himſelf to a certain degree of altitude
above them. Now, in all affemblies, though you
wedge
• The Tale of a Tub has made mech noiſe in the world. It
Was one of Swift's earlieſt performances, and has never been excela
led in wit and ſpirit by his own, or any other pen. The centures
that have paſied upon it are various. The moſt material of which
were ſuch as refccted upon Dr. Swift, in the character of a clergy-
man, and a Chriſtian, 'It has been one of the misfortunes attending:
Chriſtianity, that many of her ſons, from a miſtaken filial piety,
have indulged themſelves in too reſtrained and tio melancholy a way
of thinking. Can we wonder, then, if a book compoſed with all
the force of wit and humour, in derifion of facerdotal tyranny, in
ridicule of grave hypocrify, and in contempt of phlegmatic ſtiffnefs,
thould be wilfully mifconftrued by ſome perſons, and ignorantly miſ-
taken by others, as a Carcaſm and reflection upon the whole Chri-
dian church? Swift's ungovernable ſpirit of irony has ſometimes
carried him into very unwarrantable fights of wit. In the ſtyle of
truth, I muſt look upon the Tale of a Tub as no intended inſult a
grind Chriſtianity, but as a fatire againſt the wild errors of the church
of Rome, the dow and incomplete reformation of the Lutherans,
and the abſurd and affected zeal of the Prefbyterians. Orrery.
+ The Introduction abounds with wit and humour. But the
author never loſes the leaſt opportunity of venting his keeneſt
fatire againſt Mr. Dryden, and conſequently loads with inſults the
greateſt, although the leaſt proſperous of our Engliſh poets. Yet
who can avoid ſmiling, when he finds the Hind and Panther as a
complete abſtract of fixteen thouſand ſchoolmen, and when Tommy
Potts is ſuppoſed written by the ſame hand, as a ſupplement to the
former work? I am willing to imagine, that Dryden, in ſome man.
ncr or other, had offended Swift, who, otherwiſe, I hope, would
haie
The Introduction.
45
wedge them ever ſo cloſe, we may obſerve this per
culiar property, that over their heads there is room
enough; but how to reach it, is the difficult point;
it being as hard to get quit of number, as of hell:
evadere ad atras,
Hoc opus, bic labor eft *.
To this end, the philoſopher's way in all ages
has been by erecting certain edifices in the air. But,
whatever practice and reputation theſe kind of
itructures have formerly poflefled, or may ſtill
continue in, not excepting even that of Socrates,
when he was fufpended in a batket to help contem-
plation; I think, with due fubmiſſion, they feem
io labour under two inconveniencies. Firſt, That
the foundations being laid too high, they have been
often out of ſight, and ever out of hearing. Se-
condly, That the materials, being very tranfitory,
ave ſuffered much from inclemencies of air, efpe-
cially in theſe north weſt regions.
Therefore, towards the juſt performance of this
great work, there remain but three methods that I
can think on; whereof the wiſdom of our anceſ-
tors being highly ſenſible, has, to encourage all a-
ſpiring adventurers, thought fit to erect three wood-
en machines for the uſe of thoſe orators, who de-
lire to talk much without interruption. Theſe are,
the pulpit, the ladder, and the ſtage-itinerunt. For,
have been more indulgent to the errors of a man oppreſſed by pover.
ty, driven on by party, and bewildered by religion. But although
our ſatirical author, now and then may have indulged himſelf in ſome
per fonal anim: fiies, or may have taken freedoms not ſo perfectly
confiftent with that folemn decency which is required from a clergy-
man; yet, throughout the whole piece there is a vein of ridicule and
good humour, that laughs pedantry and affectation into the loweſt
degrce of contempt, and expoſes the character of Peter and Jack in
f.ch a manner as never will be forgiven, and never can be an-
fivered. Orrery.
* But to return and view the chearful ſkies;
In this the taſk and mighty labur lies.
23
46 A TALE OF A TUB.
as to the bar, though it be compounded of the ſame
matter, and deſigned for the fame uſe, it cannot,
however, be well allowed the honour of a fourth,
by reaſon of its level or inferior fituation, expoſing
it to perpetual interruption from collaterals." Nei-
ther can the bench itſelf, though raiſed to a proper
eminency, put in a better claim, whatever its advo-
cates inſiſt on. For, if they pleaſe to look into
the original deſign of its erection, and the circum-
fances or adjuncts fubfervient to that deſign, they
will ſoon acknowledge the preſent practice exactly
correſpondent to the primitive inſtitution; and
both to anſwer the etymology of the name, which,
in the Phænician tongue, is a word of great figni-
fication, importing, if literally interpreted, the
place of ſleep; but, in common acceptation, a feat
well bolſtered and cuſhioned, for the repoſe of old and
gouty limbs : Senes ut in oria tuta recedant : For-
tune being indebted to them this part of retaliation,
that, as formerly they have long talked, whilft
others ſlept, ſo now they may ſleep as long, whilft
others talk.
But if no other argument could occur, to exclude
the bench and the bar from the liſt of oratorial ma-
chines, it were ſufficient, that the admiſſion of
them would overthrow a number, which I was re-
folved to eſtablith, whatever argument it might coft
me; in imitation of that prudent method obferved
by many other philoſophers and great clerks, whoſe
chief art in divifion has been to grow fond of ſome
proper myſtical number, which their imaginations
have rendered ſacred, to a degree, that they force
common reaſon to find room for it in every part of
nature; reducing, including, and adjuſting, every
genus and ſpecies within that compaſs, by. coupling
fome againſt their wills, and baniſhing others at any
rate. Now, among all the reſt,, the profound
number THREE is that which hath moft employed
my fublimeſt ſpeculations, nor ever without won-
derful
The Introduction.
's
47
derful delight. There is now in the preſs, and will
be publiſhed next term, a panegyrical effay of mine
upon this number; wherein I have, by moſt con-
vincing proofs, not only reduced the ſenſes and the
elements under its banner, but brought over ſeveral
deferters from its two great rivals, SEVEN and
NINE.
Now, the firſt of theſe oratorial inachines in
place, as well as dignity, is the pulpit. Of pulpits
there are in this iſland ſeveral forts; but I eſteem
only that made of timber from the ſylva Caledonia,
which
agrees very well with our climate. If it be
upon its decay, it is the better, both for conveyance
of found, and for other reaſons to be mentioned by
and by. The degree of perfection in ſhape and
fize, i take to conſiſt in being extremely narrow,
with little ornament, and beſt of all without a co-
ver, (for, by ancient rule, it ought to be the only
rincovered veſſel in every aſſembly, where it is right-
fully uſed) by which means, from its near relem-
blance to a pillory, it will ever have a mighty influ-
ence on human ears,
Of ladders I need ſay nothing. It is obſerved by
foreigners themſelves, to the honour of our coun-
try, that we excell all nations in our practice and
underſtanding of this machine. The afcending
orators do not only oblige their audience in the a-
greeable delivery, but the whole world in the early
publication of their ſpeeches; which I look upon
as the choiceſt treaſury of our Britiſh eloquence,
and thereof, I am informed, that worthy citizen
and bookſeller, Mr. John Dunton, hath made a
faithful and a painful collection, which he ſhortly
deſigns to publiſh in twelve volumes in folio, illu-
ſtrated with copper-plates : A work highly uſeful
and curious, and altogether worthy of ſuch a
hand.
The
48
A TALE OF A TUB.
The laſt engine of orators is the ſtage-itinerant **
erected with much fagacity, ſub Jove pluvio, in tri-
viis et quadriviist. It is the great feminary of the
two former, and its orators are ſometiines prefer-
red to the one, and ſometimes to the other, in pro-
portion to their defervings, there being a ſtrict and
perpetual intercourſe between all three.
From this accurate deduction it is manifeſt, that,
for obtaining attention in public, there is of neceſ-
fity required a ſuperior poſition of place. But al-
though this point be generally granted, yet the
cauſe is little agreed in; and it ſeems to me, that
very few philofophers have fallen into a true, natural
folution of this phænomenon. The deepeſt account;
and the moſt fairly digefted of any I have yet met
with, is this, That air being a heavy body, and
therefore, according to the ſyſtem of Epicurus F,
continually deſcending, muſt needs be more ſo,
when loaden and preſſed down by words; which
are alſo bodies of much weight and gravity, as it is
manifeſt from thoſe deep impreſions they make and
leave upon us; and therefore muſt be delivered
from a due altitude, or elſe they will neither carry
a good aim, nor fall down with a ſufficient force.
Corpoream quoque enim vocem conftare fatendum eft, ,
Et fonitum, quoniam pofunt impellere fenfus *.
Lucr. lib. 4.
And I am the readier to favour this conjecture,
from a common obſervation, that, in the ſeveral
aſſemblies of theſe orators, nature itſelf hath in-
ſtructed the hearers to ſtand with their mouths on
* Is the mountebaok's ſtage, whoſe orators the au, hor determincs
either to the gallows or a conventicle.
† In the open air, and in Atreets where the greateſt rcfort is.
I Lucret. lib. 2.
'Tis certain then, that voice that thus can wound,
Is all material; body every found. .
рса,
The Introduction.
49
pen, and erected parallel to the horizon, ſo as they
may be interfected by a perpendicular line from the
zenith to the centre of the earth. In which poſi-
tion, if the audience be well compact, every one
carries home a ſhare, and little or nothing is loft.
I confefs, there is ſomething yet more refined in
the contrivance and ſtructure of our modern thea-
tres. For, firſt, the pit is funk below the ſtage,
with due regard to the inſtitution above deduced ;
that whatever weighty matter ſhall be delivered
thence, whether it be lead or gold, may fall plum
into the jaws of certain critics, as I think they are
called, which ſtand ready opened to devour them.
Then the boxes are built round, and raiſed to a
level with the ſcene, in deference to the ladies ; be.
cauſe that large portion of wit laid out in railing
pruriences and protuberances, is obſerved to run
much upon a line, and ever in a circle. The whi-
ning pallions, and little ſtarved conceits, are gent-
ly wafted up, by their own extreme levity, to the
middle region; and there fix, and are frozen by
the frigid underſtandings of the inhabitants. Bom-
baſtry and buffoonry, by nature lofty and light,
foar higheſt of all; and would be loft in the roof,
if the prudent architect had not, with much fore-
fight, contrived for them a fourth place called the
twelvipenny gallery, and there planted a ſuitable co-
lony, who greedily intercept them in their paffage.
Now this phyfico-logical ſcheme of oratorial re-
ceptacles or machines, contains a great myſtery;
being a type, a ſign, an emblem, a Thadow, a fym
bol, bearing analogy to the ſpacious common.
wealth of writers, and to thoſe methods by which
they muſt exalt themſelves to a certain eminency a-
bove the inferior world. By the pulpit are adum-
brated the writings of our modern ſaints in Great
Britain, as they have ſpiritualiſed and refin-
ed them from the drofs and groſſneſs of ſenſe
and human reaſon. The matter, as we have ſaid,
VOL.I.
E
is
50
A TALE OF A TUB.
is of rotten wood; and that upon two confidera-
tions; becauſe it is the quality of rotten wood to
give light in the dark : And, fecondly, becauſe its
cavities are full of worms; which is a type with a
pair of handles *, having a reſpect to the two prin-
cipal qualifications of the orator, and the two dif-
ferent fates attending upon his works.
The ladder is an adequate ſymbol of faction, and
of poetry; to both of which fo noble a number of
authors are indebted for their fame. Of faction t,
becauſe
Hiatus in
MS.
Of poetry.
"hecauſe its orators do perorare with a fong-; and,
becaufe climbing up by flow degrees, Fate is ſure
to turn them off before they can reach within ma-
ny fteps of the top; and becauſe it is a preferment
attained by transferring a propriety, and a con-
founding of meum and tuum.
Under the ſtage itinerant are couched thoſe pro-
ductions deſigned for the pleaſure and delight of
mortal man; ſuch as, Sixpenny worth of wit, Weft.
minſter drolleries, Delightful tales, Complete jefters,
and the like; by which the writers of and for
GRUB-STREET have in theſe latter ages fo.nobly
triumphed over Time; have clipped his wings,
pared his nails, filed his teeth, turned back his
hour-glaſs, blunted his fcythe, and drawn the hob-
nails out of his ſhoes. It is under this claſs I have
# The two principal qualifications of a fanatic preacher, are, his
inward light, and his head full of maggots; and the two different
fates of his writings are to be burat or worm eaten.
+ Here is pretended a defect in the manufcript; and this is very
frequent with our author, either when he thinks he cannot ſay any
thing worth reading ; or when he has no mind to enter on the ſubject;
or when it is a matter of little moments or perhaps to amuſe his
reader, whereof he is frequently very fond ; or, laſtly, with ſome ſa.
tirical inlcntion,
preſumed
The Introduction,
51
prefumed to lift my preſent treatiſe, being juft come
from having the honour conferred upon me, to be
adopted a member of that illuſtrious fraternity.
Now, I am not unaware, how the productions
of the Grub-ftreet brotherhood have of late years
fallen under many prejudices; nor how it has been
the perpetual employment of two junior ſtart-up fo-
cieties, to ridicule them and their authors, as un.
worthy their eſtabliſhed poft in the commonwealth
of wit and learning. Their own conſciences will
cafily inform them, whom I mean. Nor has the
world been fo negligent a looker-on, as not to ob-
ferve the continual efforts made by the focieties of
Greſham * and of Will's † to edify a name and re-
putation upon the ruin of OURS. And this is
yet a more feeling grief to us, upon the regards of
tenderneſs as well as of juſtice, when we reflect on
their proceedings not only as unjuft, but as un-
grateful
, undutiful, and unnatural. For how can
be forgot by the world, or themſelves, to ſay no-
thing of our own records, which are full and clear
in the point, that they both are feminaries, not
only of our planting, but our watering too? I am
informed, our two rivals have lately made an offer
to enter into the liſts with united forces, and chal-
lenge us to a compariſon of books, both as to
weight and number. In return to which, with li-
cence from our preſident, I humbly offer two an:
fwers. Firſt, we ſay, the propoſal is like that
which Archimedes made upon a ſmaller affair 1,
including an impoffibility in the practice ;. for
where can they find ſcales of capacity enough for
the firft, or an arithmetician of capacity enough for
Greckam college was the place where the Royal Society then
met, from whence they removed to Crane couit in Fleet.ftreet,
† Will's coffeehouſe in Covent-garden was formerly the place
where the poets uſually met ; which, though it be yet freſh in me.
mory, in ſome years may be forgotten, and want this explanation.
1. Viz, About moving the earth.
the
E 2
52
A TALE OF A TUB,
the ſecond ? Secondly, we are ready to accept the
challenge; but with this condition, that a third in-
different perſon be aſſigned, to whoſe impartial
judgement it ſhould be left to decide, which focie-
ry each book, treatiſe, or pamphlet, do moſt pro-
perly belong to. This point, God knows, is very
far from being fixed at preſent : for we are ready
to produce a catalogue of ſome thouſands, which
in all common juſtice, ought to be intitled to our
fraternity, but by the revolted and new-fangled
writers moſt perfidiouſly aſcribed to the othersi
Upon all which, we think it very unbecoming our
prudence, that the determination ſhould be remit-
ted to the authors themſelves; when our adverfa.
ries, by briguing and caballing, have cauſed fo u-
niverſal a defection from us, that the greateſt part of
our ſociety hath already deferted to them, and our
neareſt friends begin to ſtand aloof, as if they were
half-aſhamed to own us.
This is the utmoſt I am authoriſed to ſay upon
fo ungrateful and melancholy a ſubject; becauſe
we are extreme unwilling to inflame a controverfy,
whoſe continuance may be fo fatal to the intereſts
of us all; defiring much rather that things be ami-
cably compofed ; and we ſhall ſo far advance on
our fide, as to be ready to receive the two prodigals
with open arms whenever they ſhall think fit to
Teturn from their huſks and their harlots; which, I
think, from the preſent courſe of their ſtudies *
they moſt properly may be ſaid to be engaged in;
and, like an indulgent parent, continue to them
our affection and our bleſſing.
But the greateſt 'maim given to that general re-
ception which the writings of our ſociety have for-
merly received, (next to the tranſitory itate of all
ſublunary things), hath been a fuperficial vein a:
mong many readers of the preſent age, who will by
* Virtuofo experiments, and modern comedics.
no
The Introductiori.
53
no means be perſuaded to inſpect beyond the fur-
face and the rind of things: Whereas, wiſdom is a
fox, who, after long hunting, will at laſt coſt
you
the pains to dig out; it is a cheeſe, which, by how
inuch the richer, has the thicker, the homelier,
and the coarfer coat; and whereof, to a judicious
palate the maggots are the beſt: it is a jack-polit,
wherein the deeper you go, you will find it them
ſweeter. Wiſdom is a hen, whofe cackling we muſt
value and confider, becauſe it is attended with an
egg. But, then, laſtly, it is a nut, which, unleſs
you chuſe with judgement, may coſt you a tooth,
and pay you with nothing but a worm. In conſe-
quence of theſe momentous truths, the Grubaan
ſages have always choſen to conyey their precepts
and their arts thut up within the vehicles of types
and fables; which having been perhaps more care-
ful and curious in adorning, than was altogether
neceflary, it has fared with theſe vehicles, after the
uſual fate of coaches over-finely painted and gilt,
that the tranſitory gazers have ſo dazzled their eyes,
and filled their imaginations with the outward lu-
ſtre, as neither to regard or conſider the perſon
or the parts of the owner within: A misfortune
we undergo with ſomewhat leſs reluctancy, be-
cauſe it has been common to us with Pythago-
ras, Æfop, Socrates, and other of our predecef-
fors.
However, that neither the world, nor ourfebres,
may any longer fuffer by fuch miſunderſtandings, I
have been prevailed on, after much importunity
from my friends, to travel in a complete and labo-
rious diſſertation upon the prime productions of
our ſociety; which, beſides their beautiful exter-
nals for the gratification of fuperficial readers, have
darkly and deeply couched under them the most fi-
niſhed and refined fyftems of all ſciences and arts;
as I do not doubt to lay open by untwifting or un-
E 3
winding,
54
A TALE OF A TUB,
winding, and either to draw up by exantation, or
diſplay by inciſion,
This great work was entered upon ſome years a-
go by one of our moſt eminent members. He
began with the hiſtory of Reynard the fox *; but
neither lived to publiſh his effay, nor to proceed
farther in ſo uſeful an attempt; which is very niuch
to be lamented, becauſe the diſcovery he inade, and
communicated with his friends, is now univerſally
received ; nor do I think, any of the learned will
diſpute that famous treatiſe to be a complete body
of civil knowledge, and the revelation, or rather
the apocalypſe of all ſtate-arcana. But the progreſs
I have made is much greater, having already fi-
niſhed my annotations upon ſeveral dozens; from
ſome of which I ſhall impart a few hints to the
candid reader, as far as will be neceffary to the con-
cluſion at which I aim.
The firſt piece I have handled, is that of Tom
Thumb, whoſe author was a Pythagorean philofo-
pher. This dark treatiſe contains the whole fcheme
of the metempſychoſis, deducing the progreſs of the
foul through all her ſtages.
The next is Dr. Fauftus, penned by Artephius,
an author bona notæ, and an adeptus. He publiſh-
ed it in the nine-hundredth-eighty-fourth year of
his age f. This writer proceeds wholly by reincru-
dation, or in the via humida :' and the marriage be-
tween Fauftus and Helen does moft confpicuouſly
dilucidate the fermenting of the male and female
dragon.
Whitington and his cat is the work of that my-
fterious Rabbi, Jehuda Hannaſi; containing a de-
The author feems here to be mistaken; for I have ſeen a Latin
edition of Reynard. the fox above a hundred years old, which I take
to be the original ; for the reft, it has been thought by many people
to contain fome ſatirical defign in it.
+ The chymiſts fay of him in their books, that he prolonged his
life to a thouſand years, and then died voluntasily.
fence
The Introduction.
55
fence of the Gemara of the Jeruſalem Miſna t, and
and its juſt preference to that of Babylon, contrary
to the vulgar opinion.
The Hind and Panther. This is the maſter-piece
of a famous writer now living #, intended for a
complete abſtract of fixteen thoutand ſchoolmen
from Scotus to Bellarmin.
Tonny Potts, Another piece ſuppoſud by the
ſame hand, by way of ſupplement to the former.
The wiſe men of Gotham, cum appendice. This
is a treatiſe of immenfe erudition; being the great
original and fountain of thoſe arguments, bandied
about both in France and England, for a juft de-
fence of the moderns learning and wit againſt the
prefumption, the pride, and ignorance of the anci-
ents. This unknown author hath ſo exhauſted the
fubject, that a penetrating reader will eaſily diſco-
ver whatever hath been written fince upon that diſ-
pute to be little more than repetition. An abſtract
of this treatiſe hath been lately published by a wor-
thy member of our ſociety
Theſe notices may ferve to give the learned read-
er an idea, as well as a taſte, of what the whole
work is likely to produce; wherein I have now al-
together circumſcribed my thoughts and my ftudies;
and, if I can bring it to a perfection before I die,
fhall reckon I have well employed the poor remains
of an unfortunate life +. This indeed is more than
I can juſtly expect from a quill worn to the pith in
the ſervice of the ſtate in pro's and con's upon Po-
.
• The Gemara is the deciſion, explanation, or interpretation of
the Jewiſh Rabbies : and the Miſna is properly the code or body of
the Jewiſh civil or common law.
+ Viz. In the 1698.
This I ſuppoſe to be underſtood of Mr. Wotton's difcourſe of
ancient and modern learning.
+ Here the author ſeems to perſonate L'Eſtrange, Dryden, and
ſome others, who, after having paſied their lives in vices, faction,
and falſehood, have the impudence to talk of merit, and inno-
chce, and ſufferings.
Piſo
56 A TALE OF A TUB.
pij plots, and meal-tubs I, and excluſion-bills, and
paſſive obedience, and addreſſes of lives and for-
tunes ; and prerogative, and property, and liberty of
conſcience, and letters to a friend : From an under-
ſtanding and a conſcience thread-bare and ragged
with perpetual turning ; from a head broken in a
hundred places by the malignants of the oppoſite
factions; and from a body ſpent with poxes ill cured
by truſting to bawds and ſurgeons, who, as it after
wards appeared, were profeſſed enemies to me and
the government, and revenged their party's quarrel
upon my noſe and ſhins. Fourfcore and eleven
pamphlets have I written under three reigns, and
for the ſervice of fix and thirty factions. But,
finding the ſtate has no farther occaſion for
me and my ink, I retire willingly to draw it out
into ſpeculations more becoming a philoſpher; ha-
ving, to my unſpeakable comfort, paſſed a long
life with a conſcience void of offence.
But to return: I am affured from the reader's
candor, that the brief ſpecimen I have given, will
eaſily clear all the reſt of our fociety's productions
from an afperfion grown, as it is manifeft, out of
envy and ignorance, That they are of little farther
ufe or value to mankind beyond the common en-
tertainments of their wit and their ſtyle; for theſe
I am ſure have never yet been diſputed by our
keeneſt adverſaries; in both which, as well as the
more profound and myſtical part, I have, through-
out this treatiſe cloſely followed the moft applaud-
ed originals. And to render all complete, I have,
with much thought and application of mind, fo
ordered, that the chief title prefixed to it, I mean,
that under which I deſign it ſhall paſs in the com-
mon converſations of court and town, is modell.
1 In King Charles II's time, there was an account of a Preſby-
terian plot, found in a tub, which then made much aoife,
ed
A TALE OF A TUB.
57
ed exactly after the manner peculiar to our fo-
ciety.
I confeſs to have been ſomewhat liberal in the bu-
fineſs of titles *, having obſerved the humour of
multiplying them to bear great vogue among cer-
tain writers, whom I exceedingly reverence.
And
indeed it ſeems not unreaſonable, that books the
children of the brain, ſhould have the honour to
be chriſtened with variety of names, as well as o-
ther infants of quality. Our famous Dryden has
ventured to proceed a point farther, endeavouring
to introduce alſo a multiplicity of godfathers t;
which is an improvement of much more advantage,
upon a very obvious account. It is a pity this ad-
mirable invention has not been better cultivated, ſo
as to grow by this time into general imitation,
when fuch an authority ſerves it for a precedent.
Nor have my endeavours been wanting to fecond, .
ſo uſeful an example : But it feems, there is an
unhappy expence uſually annexed to the calling of
a godfather, which was clearly out of my head, as
it is very reaſonable to believe. Where the pinch
lay, I cannot certainly affirm ; but having employ-
ed a world of thoughts and pains to ſplit my trea-
tife into forty ſections, and having intreated forty
lords of my acquaintance, that they would do me
the honour to ſtand, they all made it a matter of
conſcience, and fent me their excuſes.
* The title page in the original was fo torn, that it was not pof.
able to recover ſeveral titles, which the author here ſpeaks of.
+ See Virgil tranſlated, &c, he dedicated the different parts of
Virgil :o different patrons,
SECT,
.
38
A TALE OF A TUB.
SECT. II.
ONCE upon a time, there was a man who had
three fons by one wife *, and all at a birth;
neither could the midwife tell certainly which was
the eldeſt. Their father died while they were
young; and upon his death-bed, calling the lads to
him, ſpoke thus:
Sons, Becauſe I have purchaſed no eftate, nor was
born to any, I have long conſidered of ſome good lega-
cies to bequeath you and at laft, with much care as
well as expence have provided each of you (here they
are) a new coat +. Now, you are to underſtand,
that theſe coats have two virtues contained in them.
One is, that, with good wearing, they will laſt you
freſh and found as long as you live. The other is,
that they will grow in the fame proportion with your ”
bodies, lengthening and widening of themſelves, jo as
to be always fit. Here, let me ſee them on you be-
fore I die. So, very well ; pray, children, wear
them clean, and bruſs them often. You will find in
my will I (here it is) full indructions in every par-
ticular concerning the wearing and management of
* By theſe three fons, Peter, Martin, and Jack ; Popery, the
Church of England, and our Proteſtant Diſfenter are deſigned. W.
Wotton,
In the character of Peter, we ſee the Pope, feated on his pontifical
throne, and adorned with his triple crown. In the picture of Mar.
tin, we view Luther and the firk reformers. And in the deſcrip-
sion of Jack, we behoid John Calvin and his diſciples. The author's
arrows are chiefly directed againt Peter aod Jack.. To Martin he
thews all the indulgence that the laws of allegory will permit.
Orrery.
+ By his coats, which he gave his ſons, the garment of the Il.
raelites is meant. W. Wotton.
An error (with ſubmiſkon) of the learned commentator; for by
the coats are meant the doctrine and faith of Chriſtianity, by the
wiſdom of the divine founder, fitted to all times, places, and cir-
cumstances, Lambina,
I The New Teſtament,
your
A TALE OF A TUB.
59
your coats; wherein you muſt be very exact, to avoid
the penalties I have appointed for every tranſgreffion
or negleet, upon which your future fortunes will en-
tirely depend. I have alſo commanded in my will,
that you should live together in one houje, like brethren
and
friends ; for then you will be ſure to thrive, and
not otherwiſ.
Here the ſtory ſays, this good father died and
the three fons went all together to ſeek their for-
tunes.
I ſhall not trouble you with recounting what ad.
ventures they met for the firſt ſeven years, any
farther than by taking notice, that they carefully
obſerved their father's will, and kept their coats in
very good order; that they travelled through feve-
ral countries, encountered a reaſonable quantity of
giants, and flew certain dragons.
Being now arrived at the proper age for produc-
ing themſelves, they came up to town, and fell in
love with the ladies; but eſpecially three, who a-
bout that time were in chief reputation; the
Dutcheſs d’Argent, Madame de Grands Titres,
and the Counteſs d'Orgueil *. On their firſt ap-
pearance, our three adventurers met with a very
bad reception ; and foon, with great fagacity,
gueſſing out the reaſon, they quickly began to im-
prove in the good qualities of the town. They
writ, and rallied, and rhymed, and fung, and ſaid,
and ſaid nothing; they drank, and fought, and
whored, and ſlept, and ſwore, and took ſnuff;
they went to new plays on the firſt night, haunted
the chocolate-houſes, beat the watch, lay on bulks,
and got claps; they bilked hackney-coachmen, ran
* Their miſtreſſes are, the Dutcheſs d'Argent, Mademoiſelle
de Grands Titres, and the Counteſs d'Orgueil, i. c. covetouſneſs,
ambition, and pride ; which were the three great vices that the
antient fathers inveighed againſt, as the firſt corruptions of Chriſ.
tianity. W. Wotton,
in
60
A TALE OF A TUB.
in debt with ſhop-keepers, and lay with their
wives: They killed bailiffs, kicked tidlers down
ſtairs, eat at Locket's, loiter'd at Will's; they talked
of the drawing-room, and never came there ;
dined with lords they never faw; whiſpered a
Dutcheſs, and ſpoke never a word ; expoſed the
ſcrawls of their laundreſs for billetdoux of quality;
came ever juſt from court, and were never ſeen in
it; attended the levee ſub dio ; got a liſt of peers
by heart in one company, and with great familia-
rity retailed them in another. Above all, they
conſtantly attended thoſe committees of ſenators,
who are filent in the houſe, and loud in the coffee-
haufe ; where they nightly adjourn to chew the cud
of politics; and are encompaſſed with #ring of
difciples, who lie in wait to catch up their drop-
pings. The three brothers had acquired forty O-
ther qualifications of the like ſtamp, too tedious to
recount ; and, by confequence, were juftly rec-
koned the moſt accompliſhed perſons in the town.
But all would not fuffice, and the ladies aforeſaid
continued ſtill inflexible. To clear up which diffi-
culty, I muſt, with the reader's good leave and
patience, have recourſe to ſome points of weight,
which the authors of that age have not ſufficiently
illuſtrated,
For about this time it happened, a feet aroſe,
whofe tenets obtained and ſpread very far, efpe-
cially in the grand monde, and among every body
of good faſhion * They worſhipped a ſort of
idol t, who, as their doctrine delivered, did daily
create men by a kind of manufactory operation.
This id. I they placed in the higheſt parts of the
houſe, on an altar erected about three foot. He
was fhewn in the poſture of a Perſian Emperor,
* This is an occaſional fatire upon dreſs and faſhion, in order to
introduce what follows.
f By this idol is nr.cant a taylor,
fitting
Sect. 2.
A TALE OF A TUB. 61
fitting on a ſuperficies, with his legs interwoven
under him. This god had a goofe for his enfign;
whence it is, that ſome learned men pretend.to de-
duce his original from Jupiter Capitolinus. At his
left hand, beneath the altar, hell ſeemed to open,
and catch at the animals the idol was creating : To
prevent which, certain of his prieſts hourly flung
in pieces of the uninformed mals or ſubſtance, and
fometimes whole limbs already enlivened; which
that horrid gulf inſatiably ſwallowed, terrible to
behold. The gorfe was alſo held a fubaltern divi-
nity, or deus minorum gentium ; before whoſe fhrine
was facrificed that creature, whoſe hourly food is
human gore, and who is in ſo great renown abroad
for being the delight and favourite of the Egyptian
Cercopithecus I. Millions of theſe animals were
cruelly ſlaughtered every day, to appeaſe the hun-
ger of that conſuming deity. The chief idol was
alſo worſhipped as the inventor of the yard and
needle; whether as the god of ſeamen, or on ac-
count of certain other myſtical attributes, hath not
been ſufficiently cleared.
The worſhippers of this deity had alſo a ſyſtem
of their belief, which ſeemned to turn upon the fol-
lowing fundamentals. They held the univerſe to
be a large ſuit of cloaths, which inveſts every thing;
that the earth is inveſted by the air; the air is in-
veſted by the ſtars; and the ſtars are invcſted by the
primum mobile. Look on this globe of earth, you
will find it to be a very complete and faſhionable
drejs. What is that which fome call land, but a
fine coat faced with green? or the fea, but a waiſt-
coat of water-tabby ? Proceed to the particular
works of the creation, you will find how curious
journeyman Nature hath been, to triin up the vege-
table beaux : Obſerve how ſparkith a periwig adorns
܃ ܃
| The Egyptians worſhipped a monkey; which animal is very
fond of eating lice, Niled licre creatures that feed on buman gore.
VOL.I.
the
62
A TALE OF A TUB.
the head of a beech, and what a fine doublet of
white fattin is worn by the birch. To conclude from
all, what is man himſelf but a microcoat *; or ra-
ther a complete fuit of cloaths, with all its trim-
mings ? As to his body, there can be no diſpute.
But examine even the acquirements of his mind,
you will find them all contribute, in their order,
towards furniſhing out an exact dreſs. To inſtance
no more; is not religion a cloak; honeſty a pair
of ſhoes, worn out in the dirt; ſelf-love a ſurtout ;
vanity a firt ; and conſcience a pair of breeches,
which, though a cover for lewdneſs as well as
naſtinefs, is eaſily flipt down for the ſervice of
both ?
Theſe poſtulata being admitted, it will follow in
due courſe of reaſoning, that thoſe beings which
the world calls improperly ſuits of cloaths, are in
reality the moſt refined ſpecies of animals.; or to
proceed higher, that they are rational creatures,
or men. For is it not manifeſt, that they live, and
move, and talk, and perform all other offices of
human life? Are not beauty, and wit, and mien,
and breeding, their inſeparable properties? In
fhort, we ſee nothing but them, hear nothing but
them. Is it not they who walk the ſtreets, fill up
parliament
-, play,bawdy
houſes ?? It is true indeed, that theſe animals, which
are vulgarly called ſuits of cloaths, or dreſſes, do,
according to certain compoſitions, receive diffe-
rent appellations. If one of them be trimmed up
with a gold chain, and a red gown, and a white
rod, and a great horſe, it is called a Lord Mayor ;
if certain ermins and furs be placed in a certain
poſition, we ſtyle them a Judge, and ſo, an apt
conjunction of lawn and black fattin, we intitle a
Biſhop.
-, coffee
Alluding to the word microcom, or a little world, as man hath
been called by philofòphers,
Others
Sect. 2.
A TALE OF A TUB. 63
Others of thefe profeſſors, though agreeing in
the main ſyſtem, were yet more refined upon cer-
tain branches of it; and held, that man was an a-
nimal compounded of two dieſes, the natural and
the celeſtial fuit; which were the body and the ſoul;
that the foul was the outward, and the body the
inward cloathing; that the latter was ex traduce,
but the former of daily creation and circumfuſion.
This laſt they proved by ſcripture; becauſe in them
we live, and move, and have our being : as likewiſe
by philofophy; becauſe they are all in all, and all
in every part. Befides, ſaid they, ſeparate theſe
two, and you will find the body to be only a fenfe-
lefs unfavoury carcafe. By all which it is manifeſt,
that outward dreſs muſt needs be the foul.
To this ſyſtem of religion were tagged ſeveral
fubaltern doctrines *, which were entertained with
great vogue; as, particularly, the faculties of the
mind were deduced by the learned among them in
this manner, Embrodery was fbeer wit ; gold fringe
was agreeable converſation ; gold lace was repartee;
a luge long periwig was humour ; and a coat full of
powder was very good raillery. All which
All which required
abundance of fineſſe and delicatele, to manage with
* The firſt part of the tale is the hiſtory of Peter.. Thereby Ps.
pery is expoſed. Evey body knows, the Papiſts have made great
additions to Chriſtianity; that indeed is the great exceprion which
the Church of England makes against them: accordingly Peter be-
gins his pranks with adding a fhoulder. knot to his coat. W. Wotton.
The actions of Peter are the actions of a man intoxicated with
pride, power, rage, tyranny, and ſelf-conceit. Theſe paſſions are
placed in the moſt ridiculous light : ard the effects of them produce
in us the tenets and doctrines of papal Rome, ſuch as purgatory, pe
hance, images, indulgenccs, auricular confeffion, tranfubftantiation,
and thoſe dreadful monſters, the pontifical bulls, which, according to
this ludicrous author, derived their original from the famous tuils of
Colchis, deſcribed by Ovid.
« Terribiles vultus, prefixaque, cornua ferro;
“ Pulvereur que folum pede pulſavere tiſulco;
Fumificiſque locum mugitibus implevere," MIT. I. vii. v. 112.
Orrary.
F 2
advantage,
64
A TALE OF A TUB.
.
advantage, as well as a ſtrict obſervance after tiines
and faſhions.
I have, with much pains and reading, collected
out of ancient authors, this short fummary of a
body of philofophy and divinity; which ſeems to
have been compofed by a vein and race of think-
ing, very different from any other fyftems, either
ancient or modern. And it was not merely to en-
tertain or fatisfy the reader's curioſity, but rather
to give him light into feveral circumſtances of the
following ſtory; that, knowing the ſtate of difpo-
fitions and opinions in an age fo remote, he may
better comprehend thoſe great events which were
the iſſue of them. I adviſe therefore the courte-
ous reader, to perufe, with a world of application,
again and again, whatever I have written upon this
matter. And leaving theſe broken ends, I careful
ly gather up the chief thread of my ſtory, and
proceed to be
Thefe opinions therefore were ſo univerfal, as
well as the practices of them, among the refined
part of court and town, that our three brother-
adventurers, as their circumſtances then ſtood,
were ſtrangely at a loſs. For, on the one ſi
fide,
the three ladies they addreſſed themſelves to, whom
we have named already, were ever at the very top
of the fathion, and abhorred all that were below
it but the breadth of a hair. On the other fide,
their father's will was very precife, and it was the
main precept in it, with the greateſt penalties an-
nexed, not to add to, or diminiſh from their coats,
one thread, without a poſitive command in the will.
Now, the coats their father had left them, were, it
is true, of very good cloth; and, beſides, ſo neat-
ly fown, you would ſwear they
were all of a piece;
but at the ſame time very plain, and with little or
no
Sect. 2.
A TALE OF A TUB. 65
no ornament *. And it happened, that, before
they were a month in town, great ſhoulder-knots
came up +: ftrait all the world was fboulder-knots;
no approaching the ladies ruelles, without the quota
of ſboulder-knots. That fellow, cries one, has no
foul; where is his ſhoulder-knot? Our three brethren
foon diſcovered their want by fad experience, meet-
ing in their walks with forty mortifications and in-
dignities. If they went to the play-houſe, the door-
keeper ſhewed them into the twelve-penny gallery,
If they called a boat, fays the waterman, I am firſt
ſculler. If they ſtepped to the Roſe to take a bottle,
the drawer would cry, Friend, we fell no ale. If
they want to viſit a lady, a footman met them at
the door, with, Pray, ſend up your meſage. In this
unhappy cafe they went immediately to conſult their
father's will; read it over
and over, but not a word
of the ſhoulder-knot. What ſhould they do! What
temper ſhould they find ? Obedience was abſolutely
neceſſary, and yet ſhoulder-knots appeared extremely
requiſite. After much thought, one of the bro.
thers, who happened to be more book-learned than
the other two, laid, he had found an expedient.
It is true, ſaid he, there is nothing here in this will,
totidem verbis 8, making mention of thoulder-knots :
F 3
but
• His deſcription of the cloth of which the coat was made, has a
farther meaning than the words may ſeem to import : “ The coats
u their father had left them, were of very good cloth; and beſides,
“ fo nearly fown, you would ſwear they were all of a piece; but at
the ſame time very plain, with little or no ornament." This is
the diſtinguiſhing character of the Chriſtian religion. Chrifliana sem
ligie abfoluta et ſimplex, was Amminaus Marcellinus's deſcription of it,
who was himſelf a Heathen. W. Wotton,
+ By this is underſtood the firſt introducing of pageantry, and un-
neceſſary ornaments in the church, ſuch as · were neither for conve.
nience nor edification ; as a ſhoulder-knot, in which there is neither
ſymmetry nor uſe.
I When the Papiſts cannot find any thing which they want in
ſcripture, they go to oral tradition. Thus Peter is introduced diſlatif-
fied with the tedious way of looking for all the letters of any word,
which he has occaſion for in the will; when neither the conſtituent
ſyllables
A TALE OF A TUB
een erroneouſly; for in the beſt copies it has
but I dare conjecture, we may find them incluſive,
totidem fyllabis. This diſtinction was immediately
approved by all; and ſo they fell again to examine.
But their evil ftar had ſo directed the matter, that
the firſt fyllable was not to be found in the whole
writing. Upon which diſappointment, he who
found the former evaſion, took heart, and ſaid,
Brothers, there are yet hopes ; for though we cannot
find them totidem verbis, nor totidem fyllabis, I dare
engage we fball make them out tertio modo, or toti-
dem literis. This diſcovery was alſo highly com-
mended : upon which they fell once more to the
fcrutiny, and picked out S, H, O, U, L, D, E, R;
when the ſame planet, enemy to their repofe, had
wonderfully contrived, that a K was not to be
found. Here was a weighty difficulty! But the di-
ſtinguiſhing brother, for whom we ſhall hereafter
find a name, now his hand was in, proved, by a
very good argument, that K was a modern illegi-
mate letter, unknown to the learned ages, nor any
where to be found in ancient manuſcripts, “ Tis
"true" (faid he) “ the word Calenda hath in
Q. V.C. * been fometimes written with a K;
" but
“ been ever fpelt with a C. And, by confequence,
it was a grofs miſtake in our language to
Spell knot with a K; but that from henceforward
* he would take care it ſhould be written with a C."
Upon this all farther difficulty vaniſhed; ſboulder-
knots were made clearly out to be jure paterno; and
our three gentlemen ſwaggered with as large and
as flaunting ones as the beſt.
But as human happineſs is of a very ſhort dura-
tion, fo in thoſe days were human faſhions, upon
which it entirely depends. Shoulder-knots had their
fyllables, nor much leſs the whole word, were there in terminis. W
Wotton,
Bujbufdam veteribus crdicibus. Some ancient manufcripts.
time:
Seet. 2.
A
A TALE OF A TUB.
67
2
time, and we muſt now imagine them in their de-
cline: for a certain lord came juft from Paris, with
fifty yards of gold-lace upon his coat, exactly trim-
med after the court-faſhion of that month. In two
days all mankind appeared clofed up in bars of
gold-lace t. Whoever durft peep abroad without
his complement of geld-lace, was as fcandalous as
and as ill received among the women.
What ſhould our three knights do in this momen-
tous affair? They had fufficiently ſtrained a point
already, in the affair of ſhoulder-knots. Upon re-
courſe to the will, nothing appeared there but altum
filentium. That of the Aboulder-knots was a loofe,
flying circumftantial point, but this of gold-lace
ſeemd do conſiderable an alteration without bet-
ter warrant; it did aliquo modo effentiæ adhærere, and
therefore required a poſitive precept. But about
this tine it fell out, that the learned brother afore-
faid had read Ariſtotelis dialettica; and eſpecially
that wonderfully piece de interpretatione, which has
the faculty of teaching its readers to find out a
meaning in every thing but itſelf; like commenta-
tors on the Revelations, who proceed prophets with-
out underſtanding a fyllable of the text." Bro-
"thers," ſaid he, “ you are to be informed, that
" of wills duo funt genera, nuncupatory * and fcrip-
tory. That in the fcriptory will here before us,
" there is no precept or mention about gold-lace,
“ conceditur : but, fi idem affirmetur de nuncupatoria,
“ negatur. For, brothers, if you remember, we
“ heard a fellow ſay, when we were boys, that he
“ heard my father's man fay, that he heard my
“ father fay, that he would adviſe his ſons to get
“ gold-lace on their coats, as ſoon as ever they could
their coats, as
+ I cannot tell, whether the author means any new innovation by
this word, or whether it be only to introduce the new methods of
foreing and perverting fcripture,
By this is meant tradition, allowed to have equal authority with
the ſcripture, or rather greater.
"procure
68 A TALE OF A TUB.
“ procure money to buy it." “ By G- that is
very true,” cries the other : “ I remember it
perfectly well," ſaid the third. And ſo, with-
out more ado, they got the largeſt gold-lace in the
pariſh, and walked about as fine as lords
A while after, there came up, all in faſhion, a
pretty fort of flame-coloured fattin * for linings; and
the mercer brought a pattern of it immediately to
our three gentlemen : “ An' pleaſe your Wor-
" fhips," ſaid he,“ my Lord C-, and Sir J.
" W. had linings out of this very piece laſt night.
" It takes wonderfully; and I ſhall not have a
" remnant left, enough to make my wife a pin-
" cuſhion, by to-morrow morning at ten a clock."
Upon this they fell again to rummage the vill, be-
cauſe the prefent caſe alſo required a poſitive pre-
cept, the lining being held by orthodox writers to
be of the eſſence of the coat. After long fearch,
they could fix upon nothing to the matter in hand,
except a ſhort advice of their father in the will, to
take care of fire, and put out their candles before
they went to ſleep *. This, though a good deal
for the purpoſe, and helping very far towards ſelf-
conviction, yet not ſeeming wholly of force to eſta-
bliſh a command; (being reſolved to avoid farther
ſcruple, as well as future occaſion for fcandal),
+ This is purgatory, whereof he ſpeaks more particularly hereaf-
ter; but here only to fhew how ſcripture was perverted to prove it;
which was done by giving equal authority, with the canon, to Apocry-
pba, called here a codicil annexed.
It is likely the author, in every one of theſe changes in the bio-
thers dreſſes, refers to ſome particular crror in the church of Rome;
though it is not caſy, I think, to apply them all. But by this of
flavie-coloured farin, is manifeſtly intended purgatory; by gold lace
may perhaps be underſtood, the lofty ornaments and plate in the
churches. The ſhoulder-knots and ſilver fringe are not ſo obvious, at
Jeaſt to me,
But the Indian figures of men, women, and children,
plainly relate to the pi&tures in the Romiſh churches, of God like an
old man, of the Virgin Mary, and our Saviour as a child.
That is, to take care of hell ; and, in order to do that, to ſub-
due and extinguiſh their lufts.
fays
Sect. 2.
A TALE OF A TUB. 619
ſays he that was the ſcholar, “ I remember to have
* read in wills, of a codicil annexed; which is in-
“ deed a part of the will; and what it contains,
“ hath equal authority with the reſt. Now, I have
“ been conſidering of this ſame will here before us,
" and I cannot reckon it to be complete for want of
" ſuch a codicil, I will therefore faſten one in its
proper place very dextrouſly. I have had it by
me ſome time. Is was written by a dog-keeper
" of my grandfather's t; and talks a great deal,
as good luck would have it, of this very flame-
“ coloured fattin." The project was immediately
approved by the other two; an old parchment ſcroll
was tagged on according to art, in the form of a
codicil e xed, and the fattin bought and worn.
Next winter, a player, hired for the purpoſe by
the corporation of fringe-makers, acted his part in
a new comedy, all covered with ſilver fringet; and,
according to the laudable cuſtom, gave riſe to that
faſhion. Upon which, the brother's conſulting
their father's will, to their great aſtoniſhment
found theſe words : Item, I charge and command my
ſaid three fons, to wear no fort of Gilver fringe upon
or about their faid coats, &c, with a penalty, in caſe
of diſobedience, too long here to inſert. Howe-
ver, after ſome pauſe, the brother ſo often men-
tioned for his erudition, who was well ſkilled in
criticiſms, had found in a certain author, which he
ſaid ſhould be nameleſs, that the fame word, which
in the will is called fringe, does alſo ſignify a broom-
Stick l; and doubtleſs ought to have the ſame inter-
pretation in this paragraph. This another of the
+ I believe this refers to that part of the Apocrypha, where man-
tion is made of Tobit and his dog.
| This is certainly the farther introducing the pomps of habit and
ornament.
The next ſubject of our au hor's wit, is the glofſes and interpre-
tations of ſcripture, very many abſurd ones of which are allowed in
the mof authentic books of the aburb of Rome. W. Wotton.
brothers
70
A TALE OF A TUB.
brothers diſliked, becauſe of that epithet filver;
which could not, he humbly conceived, in propri-
ety of ſpeech, be reaſonably applied to a broom-ſtick.
But is was replied upon him, that this epithet was
underſtood in a mythological and allegorical fenfe.
However, he objected again, why their father
ſhould forbid them to wear a broom-ſtick on their
coats; a caution that ſeemed unnatural and imper-
tinent. Upon which he was taken up ſhort, as one
that fpoke irreverently of a myſtery, which doubt-
leſs was very uſeful and ſignificant, but ought not
to be over-curiouſly pried into, or nicely reaſoned
upon. And, in ſhort, their father's authority be-
ing now conſiderably funk, this expedient was al-
lowed to ſerve as a lawful diſpenſation for rearing
their full proportion of ſilver fringe.
A while after, was revived an old faſhion, long
antiquated, of embroidery with Indian figures of
men, women, and children *
Here they remem-
bered but too well, how their father had always ab-
horred this faſhion; that he made feveral paragraphs
on purpoſe, importing his utter deteftation of it,
and beſtowing his everlaſting curfe to his fons,
whenever they ſhould wear it. For all this, in a few
days, they appeared higher in the faſhion than any
body elſe in the town. But they ſolved the matter,
by ſaying, that thefe figures were not at all the ſame
with thoſe that were formerly worn, and were meant
in the will. Beſides, they did not wear them in the
fenfe as forbidden by their father ; but as they were
a commendable cuſtom, and of great uſe to the
public. That theſe rigorous clauſes in the will did
therefore require fome allowance, and a favourabie
The images of faints, the bleſſed virgin, and our Saviour an
infant.
Ibid. Images in the church of Rome give bim but too fair a handle,
Tbe brothers remembered, &c. The allegory here is direct, W. Wotton.
is dire&t. W. We
inter-
Sect. 3.
71
A TALE OF A TUB.
interpretation, and ought to be underſtood cum
grano falis.
But faſhions perpetually altering in that age, the
ſcholaſtic brother grew weary of ſearching farther
evafions, and ſolving everlaſting contradictions.
Reſolved therefore, at all hazards, to comply with
the modes of the world, they concerted matters to-
gether, and agreed unanimouſly, to lock up their
father's will in a ſtrong box*, brought out of Greece
or Italy, I have forgotten which; and trouble them-
felves no farther to examine it, but only refer to
its authority whenever they thought fit. In conſe-
quence whereof, a while after, it grew a general
mode to wear an infinite number of points, moſt of
them tagged with filver. Upon which, the ſcholar
pronounced ex cathedra t, that points were abfo-
lutely jure paterno, 'as they might very well remem-
ber. It is true, indeed, the faſhion prefcribed
ſomewhat more than were directly named in the
will; however, that they, as heirs general of their
father, had power to make and add certain clauſes
for public emolument, though not deducible, toti-
dem verbis, from the letter of the will; or elſe
multa abſurda ſequerentur. This was underſtood for
canonical; and therefore on the following Sunday
they came to church all covered with points.
The learned brother, ſo often mentioned, was
reckoned the beſt ſcholar in all that, or the next
The Papiſts formerly forbad the people the uſe of ſcripture in a
vulgar tongue ; Peter therefore locks up bis father's will in a frong box,
brought out of Greece or Italy. Theſe countries are named, becauſe the
New Teſtament is written in Greek; and the vulgar Latin, which
is the authentic edition of the Bible in the Church of Rome, is in
the language of old Italy. W. Wotton.
+ The Popes, in their decretals and bulls, have given their fanc-
tion to very many gainful doctrines, which are now received in the
Church of Rome, that are not mentioned in ſcripture, and are un
known to the primitive church. Peter accordingly pronounces ex ca-
thedra, that points tagged with filver were abſolutely jure paterno; and
ſo they wore them in great numbers. W. Wotton.
ſtreet
72
A TALE OF A TUB.
ſtreet to it; inſomuch, as having run ſomething be-
hind-hand in the world, he obtained the favour of
a certain lord f, to receive him into his houſe, and
to teach his children. A while after, the lord died;
and he, by long practice of his father's will, found
the way of contriving a deed of conveyance of that
houfe to himſelf and his heirs. Upon which he
took poffeflion, turned the young 'fquires out, and
seceived his brothers in their ſtead .
SECT. III.
A digreſſion concerning critics *
Lthough I have been hitherto as cautious
could, upon all occaſions, moſt nicely to fol
low the rules and methods of writing laid down by
the example of our illuſtrious moderns; yet has the
unhappy Thortneſs of my memory led me into an
error, from which I muſt extricate myſelf, before
I can decently purſue my principal ſubject. I con-
feſs, with ſhame, it was an unpardonable omiflion
to proceed fo far as I have already done, before I
had performed the due diſcourſes, expoſtulatory,
fupplicatory, or deprecatory, with my good lords the
1 This was Conſtantine the Great, from whom the Popes pretend
a donation of St. Peter's patrimony, which they have been never able
to produce.
Ibid. The biſhops of Rome enjoyed their privileges in Rome at
firſt by the favour of the emperors, whom at laſt they ſhut out of
their own capital city, and then forged a donation from Conflantine
the Great, the better to juſtify what they did. In imitation of this,
Peter, having run fomething behind band in the world, obtained leave of
a certain lord, &c. W. Wotion.
* The ſeveral digreſſions are wiitten in ridicule of bad critics, dull
commentators, and the wbole fraternity of Grubſtreet philoſophers.
critics.
Sect. 3. A digreſſion concerning critics. 73
critics. Towards fome atonement for this grievous
neglect, I do here make humbly bold to preſent
them with a ſhort account of themſelves and their
art, by looking into the original and pedigree of
the word, as it is generally underſtood antong us,
and very briefly conſidering the ancient and preſent
ſtate thereof.
By the word critic, at this day ſo frequent in all
converſations, there have fometimes been diſtin-
guiſhed three very different ſpecies of mortal men,
according as I have read in ancient books and pam-
phlets. For, firſt, by this term was underſtood ſuch
perſons as invented or drew up rules for themſelves
and the world, by obſerving which, a careful read-
er might be able to pronounce upon the produc-
tions of the learned, from his taſte to a true reliſh
of the ſublime and the admirable, and divide every
beauty of matter or of ſtyle from the corruption
that apes it: in their common peruſal of books,
ſingling out the errors and defects, the nauſeous,
the fulfome, the dull, and the impertinent, with the
caution of a man that walks through Edinburgh
ſtreets in a morning, who is indeed as careful as
he can, to watch diligently, and ſpy out the filth in
way: not that he is curious to obſerve the co-
lour and complexion of the ordure, or take its di-
menſions, much leſs to be paddling in, or tafting it;
but only with a deſign to come out as cleanly as he
may. Theſe men ſeem, though very crroneouſly,
to have underſtood the appellation of critic in a li-
teral ſenſe; that one principal part of his office was
to praiſe and acquit; and that a critic, who ſets
to read only for an occaſion of cenfure and reproof,
is a creature as barbarous, as a judge who thould
take up a reſolution to hang all men that came be-
fore him upon a trial.
Again, by the word critic have been meant the
reſtorers of ancient learning from the worms, and
graves, and duſt of manuſcripts.
Vol.I.
G
Now,
his way
up
A TALE OF A TUB.
Now, the races of thoſe two have been, for fome
ages, utterly extinét; and beſides, to diſcouſe any
farther of them, would not be at all to my pur-
poſe.
The third and nobleſt fort is that of the TRUE
CRITIC, whoſe original is the moſt ancient of all.
Every true critic is a hero born, deſcending in a
direct line from a celeſtial ſtem by Momus and Hy-
bris, who begat Zoilus, who begat Tigellius, who
begat Etcætera the elder, who begat Bentley, and
Rymer, and Wotton, and Perrault, and Dennis,
who begat Etcatera the younger.
And theſe are the critics from whom the com-
monwealth of learning has, in all ages, received
ſuch immenſe benefits, that the gratitude of their
admirers placed their origin in heaven, among
thoſe of Hercules, Theſeus, Perfeus, and other
great defervers of mankind. But heroic virtue it-
ſelf hath not been exempt from the obloquy of evil
tongues. For it hath been objected, that thoſe an-
cient heroes, famous for their combating ſo many
giants, and dragons, and robbers, were in their
own perſons a greater nuiſance to mankind, than
any of thoſe monſters they ſubdued; and there-
fore, to render their obligations more complete,
when all other vermin were deſtroyed, ſhould in
conſcience have concluded with the ſame juſtice
upon themſelves; as Hercules moft generouſly did;
and hath, upon that ſcore, procured to himſelf
more temples and votaries, than the beſt of his
fellows. For theſe reaſons I fuppofe it is, why
fome have conceived it would be very expedient
for the public good of learning, that every true
critic, as ſoon as he had finiſhed his taſk afligned,
fhould immediately deliver himſelf up to ratſbane,
or hemp, or from fome convenient altitude; and
that no man's pretenſions to fo illuſtrious a cha-
racter ſhould by any means be received, before that
operation were performed.
Now,
Sect. 3.
A digreffion concerning critics.
75
Now, from this heavenly deſcent of criticiſm,
and the cloſe analogy it bears to heroic virtue, it is
eafy to aflign the proper employment of a true an-
cient genuine critic; which is, to travel through this
vaft world of writings; to purſue and hunt thoſe
monſtrous faults bred within them; to drag out the
lurking errors, like Cacus from his den, to multi-
ply them like Hydra's heads; and rake them toge-
ther like Augeas's dung : or elſe drive away a ſort
of dangerous fowl, who have a perverſe inclination
to plunder the beſt branches of the tree of know-
kedge, like thoſe Stymphalian birds that eat up the
fruit.
Theſe reaſonings will furniſh us with an adequate
definition of a true critic; that he is a diſcoverer
and collector of writer's faults; which may be far-
ther put beyond diſpute by the following demon-
ſtration : That whoever will examine the writings
in all kinds, wherewith this ancient feet has ho-
noured the world, ſhall immediately find, from the
whole thread and tenor of them, that the ideas of
the authors have been altogether converſant and ta-
ken up with the faults, and blemiſhes, and over-
fights, and miſtakes of other writers ; and, let the
fubject treated on be whatever it will, their imagi-
nations are fo entirely poffeffed and replete with the
defects of other pens, that the very quinteflence of
what is bad does of neceſſity diſtil into their own;
by which means the whole appears to be nothing
elſe but an abſtract of the criticiſms themſelves have
made.
Having thus briefly confidered the original and
office of a critic, as the word is underſtood in its
moft noble and univerſal acceptation; I proceed to
refute the objections of thoſe who argue from the
filence and pretérmiſſion of authors; by which they
pretend to prove, that the very art of criticiſm, as
now exerciſed, and by me explained, is wholly mo-
dern; and conſequently, that the critics of Great
G 2
Britain
76
A TALE OF A TUB.
Britain and France have no title to an original ſo
ancient and illuſtrious as I have deduced. Now, if
I can clearly make out, on the contrary, that the
moft ancient writers have particularly deſcribed
both the perſon and the office of a true critic, agree-
able to the definition laid down by me; their grand
objection, from the filence of authors, will fall to
the ground. l
I confefs to have for a long time borne a part in
this general error; from which I ſhould never have
acquitted myſelf, but through the affiſtance of our
noble moderns; whoſe moſt edifying volumes I turn
indefatigably over night and day, for the improve-
ment of my mind, and the good of my country.
Theſe have with unwearied pains made many ufeful
ſearches into the weak fides of the ancients, and
given us a comprehenfive lift of them. Beſides,
they have proved beyond contradiction, that the
very fineſt things delivered of old, have been long
ſince invented, and brought to light by much later
pens *; and that the nobleſt diſcoveries thoſe ar-
cients ever made of art or nature, have all been
produced by the tranſcending genius of the prefent
age. Which clearly thews, how little merit thoſe
ancients can juſtly pretend to ; and takes off that
blind admiration paid them by men in a corner,
who have the unhappineſs of converfing too little
with preſent things. Reflecting maturely upon all
this, and taking in the whole compaſs of human
nature, I eaſily concluded, that theſe ancients, high-
ly ſenſible of their many imperfections, muſt needs
have endeavoured, from fome pafiages in their
works, to obviate, foften, or divert the cenforious
reader, by fatire or panegyric upon the true critics,
in imitation of their maſters the moderns. Now, in
the common places of both theſe t, I was plentifully
* See Wotton of ancient and modern learning.
+ Satire and panegyric upon critics,
inſtructed
Sect. 3.
77
A digreſſion concerning critics.
inſtructed, by a long courſe of uſeful ſtudy in pre-
faces and prologues; and therefore immediately re-
folved to try what I could diſcover of either, by a
diligent perufal of the moſt ancient writers, and
eſpecially thoſe who treated of the earlieſt times.
Here I found, to my great furpriſe, that although
they all entered, upon
occaſion, into particular de
fcriptions of the true cricic, according as they were
governed by their fears or their hopes; yet what
ever they touched of that kind, was with abun-
dance of caution, adventuring no farther than my-
thology and hieroglyphic. This, I ſuppoſe, gave
ground to fuperficial readers, for urging the ſilence
of authors againſt the antiquity of the true critic;
though the types are ſo appoſite, and the applica-
tion fo neceſſary and natural, that it is not eaſy to
conceive, how any reader of a modern eye and taſte
could overlook them. I ſhall venture, from a
great number, to produce a few, which, I am very
confident, will put this queſtion beyond diſpute.
It well deſerves conſidering, that thefe ancient
writers, in treating ænigmatically upon the ſubject,
have generally fixed upon the very ſame hieroglyph;
varying only the ſtory, according to their affections,
or their wit. For, firſt, Pauſanias is of opinion,
that the perfection of writing correct was entirely
owing to the inſtitution of critics. And that he
can poſſibly mean no other than the true critic, is,
I think, manifect enough from the following de-
fcription. He ſays *, « they were a race of men
“ who delighted to nibble at the fuperfluities and
« excrefcences of books; which the learned at
length obſerving, took warning of their own ac-
“ cord to lop the luxuriant, the rotten, the dead,
" the fapleſs, and the overgrown branches from
“ their works.” But now, all this he cunningly
ſhades under the following allegory: “ That the
66
. Lib.
G 3
Nau-
78 A TALE OF A TUB.
* Nauplians in Argos learned the art of pruning
" their vines, by obſerving, that when an ASS
“ had browſed upon one of them, it thrived the
" better, and bore fairer fruit.” Bat Herodotust,
holding the very fame hieroglyph, ſpeaks much
plainer, and almoſt in terminis. He hath been fo
bold as to tax the true critics of ignorance and ma-
lice; telling us openly, for I think nothing can be
plainer, that in the weſtern part of Libya there were
ASSES with horns. Upon which relation Ctefias †
yet refines, mentioning the very fame animal about
India; adding, that whereas all other ASSES want-
ed a gall, theſe horned ones were ſo redundant in that
part, that their fleſh was not to be eaten, becauſe of
its extreme bitterneſs.
Now, the reaſon why thoſe ancient writers treat-
ed this ſubject only by types and figures, was, be-
cauſe they durft not make open attacks againſt
, a
party ſo potent and terrible, as the critics of thoſe
ages were ; whoſe very voice was ſo dreadful, that
a legion of authors would tremble, and drop their
pens at the ſound: for ſo Herodotus tells us ex-
prefly in another place *, how " a valt army of
“ Scythians was put to flight in a panic terror by
“ the braying of an ASS.” From hence it is con-
jectured by certain profound philologers, that the
great awe and reverence paid to a true critic by the
writers of Britain, have been derived to us from
thoſe of our Scythian anceſtors. In ſhort, this
dread was ſo univerſal, that, in proceſs of time,
thoſe authors who had a mind to publiſh their ſen-
timents more freely, in deſcribing the true critics of
their ſeveral ages, were forced to leave off the uſe
of the former hieroglyph, as too nearly approaching
the prototype; and invented other terms inſtead
+ Lib. iv,
1 Vide excerpta ex co apud Photium.
# Lib. iv,
thereof,
Sect. 3.
79
A digreffion concerning critics,
thereof, that were more cautious and myſtical. So
Diodorus t, ſpeaking to the fame purpoſe, ventures
no farthrer than to ſay, that, “ in the mountains of
“ Helicon, there grows a certain weed, which bears
“ a flower of fo damned a ſcent, as to poifon thoſe
"who offer to ſmell it.” Lucretius gives exactly
the ſame relation:
Eft etiam in magnis Heliconis montibus arbos,
Floris odore hominem tetro conſueta necare ț. Lib. 6.
But Ctefias, whom we lately quoted, hath been a
great deal bolder. He had been uſed with much feve-
rity by the true critics of his own age, and there-
fore could not forbear to leave behind him, at leaſt,
one deep mark of his vengeance againſt the whole
tribe. His meaning is fo near the ſurface, that I
wonder how it poffibly came to be overlooked by
thoſe who deny the antiquity of the true critics.
For, pretending to make a deſcription of many
ſtrange animals about India, he hath fet down theſe
remarkable words." Amongſt the reſt, ſays he,
" there is a ſerpent that wants teeth, and confe-
“quently cannot bite; but if its vomit, to which it
" is much addicted, happens to fall upon any
" thing, a certain rottenneſs or corruption enfues.
“ Theſe ferpents are generally found among the
“ mountains where Jewels grow, and they fre-
quently emit a poiſonous juice; whereof whoever
" drinks, that perſon's bruins fly out of his no-
”
There was alſo among the ancients a ſort of cri-
tics, not diſtinguiſhed in ſpecie from the former,
but in growth or degree, who ſeem to have been
only the tyro's or junior ſcholars : Yet, becauſe of
"ſtrils."
+ Lib.
* Near Helicon, and ronnd the learned hill,
Grow trees, whoſe bloſſoms with their odour kill,
thei
80 A TALE OF A TUB.
their differing employments, they are frequently
mentioned as a fect by themſelves. The uſual ex-
erciſe of theſe younger ſtudents, was to attend
conſtantly at theatres, and learn to ſpy out
the worſt parts of the play, whereof they were ob-
liged carefully to take note, and render a ra-
tional account to their tutors. Fleſhed at theſe
ſmaller ſports, like young wolves, they grew up in
time to be nimble and ſtrong enough for hunting
down large game. For it hath been obſerved, both
among ancients and moderns, that a true critic hath
one quality in common with a whore and an alder-
man, never to change his title or his nature ; that
a gray critic has been certainly a green one, the
perfections and acquirements of his age being only
the improved talents of his youth, like hemp,
which fome naturaliſts informs us is bad for fuffon
cations, though taken but in the feed. I efteem the
invention, or at leaſt the refinement of prologues,
to have been owing to theſe younger proficients of
whom Terence makes frequent and honourable
mention, under the name of malevoli.
Now, it is certain the inſtitution of the true cri-
tics was of abſolute neceflity to the commonwealth
of learning. For all human actions ſeem to be di-
vided, like Themiſtocles and his company: One
man can fiddle, and another can make a ſmall town
a great city; and he that cannot do either one or
the other, deſerves to be kicked out of the crea-
tion. The avoiding of which penalty, has doubt-
leſs given the firſt birth to the nation of critics;
and withal, an occaſion for their ſecret detractors
to report, that a true critic is a fort of mechanic,
ſet up with a ſtock and tools for his trade, at as
little expence as a tailor; and that there is much
analogy between the utenſils and abilities of both :
That the tailor's hell is the type of a critic's common-
place-book, and his wit and learning held forth by
the gooſe; that it requires at leaſt as many of theſe
to
Sect. 3.
81
A digreffion concerning crities.
to the making up of one ſcholar, as of the others
to the compoſition of a man; that the valour of
both is equal, and their weapons near of a fize.
Much may be faid in anſwer to thoſe invidious re-
flections, and I can pofitively affirm the firſt to be
a falſehood: For, on the contrary, nothing is
more certain than that it requires greater layings
out to be free of the critic's company, than of any
other you can name. For, as to be a true beggar, it
will coſt the richeſt candidate every groat he is
worth; fo before one can commence a true critic, it
will coſt a man all the good qualities of his mind;
which perhaps for a leſs purchaſe would be thought
but an indifferent bargain.
Having thus amply proved the antiquity of criti-
ciſm, and deſcribed the primtive ſtate of it; I ſhall
now examine the preſent condition of this empire,
and ſhew how well it agrees with its ancient felf.
A certain author, whole works have many ages
ſince been entirely loft, does, in his fifth book, and
eighth chapter, fay of critics, that their writings are
the mirrors of learning. This I underſtand in a
literal fenfe ; and ſuppoſe our author muſt mean,
that whoever defigns to be a perfect writer, muſt in-
ſpect into the books of critics, and correct his in-
vention there, as in a mirror. Now, whoever con-
fiders, that the mirrors of the ancients were inade
of braſs, and fine mercurio, may preſently apply the
two principal qualifications of a true modern critic;
and confequently muſt needs conclude, that theſe
have always been, and muſt be for ever the fame.
For braſ is an emblem of duration, and, when
it is ſkilfully burniſhed, will caft refle&lions from its
own ſuperficies, without any affiſtance of mercury
from behind. All the other talents of a critic will
not require a particular mention, being included,
A quotation after the manner of a great author. Vide Bentley's
Diffirtation, &c.
OT
82
A TALE OF A TUB.
or eafily reducible to theſe. However, I ſhall con-
clude with three maxims, which may ferve both as
characteriſtics to diſtinguiſh a true modern critic
from a pretender, and will be alſo of admirable ufe
to thoſe worthy ſpirits who engage in ſo uſeful and
honourable an art.
The firſt is, that criticiſm, contrary to all other
faculties of the intellect, is ever held the trueſt and
beſt, when it is the very firſt reſult of the critic's
mind : As fowlers reckon the firſt aim for the
fureſt, and feldom fail of miſſing the mark, if they
ſtay for a ſecond.
Secondly, The true critics are known by their
talent of fwarming about the nobleft writers, to
which they are carried merely by inſtinct, as a rat
to the beſt cheeſe, or a wafp to the faireft fruit.
So, when the king is on horſeback, he is ſure to
be the dirtieft perſon of the company; and they
that make their court beſt, are ſuch as beſpatter
him inoft.
Laſtly, A true critic in the peruſal of a book
is like a dog at a feaſt, whofe thoughts and ſto-
mach are wholly ſet upon what the gueſts fling
away; and confequently is apt to ſnarl moft when
there are the feweſt bones.
Thus much, I think, is fufficient to ſerve by
way of addreſs to my patrons, the true modern
critics; and may very well atone for my paft fi-
lence, as well as that which I am like to obſerve
for the future. I hope I have deferved ſo well of
their whole body, as to meet with generous and
tender ufage from their hands, Supported by which
expectation, I go on boldly to purſue thoſe adven-
sures already ſo happily begun.
. SECT.
Sect. 4.
83
A TALE OF A TUB.
*
**
SECT. IV.
A TALE OF A TUB.
I
Have now with much pains and ſtudy conduct-
ed the reader to a period, where he muſt expect
to hear of great revolutions. For no ſooner had
our learned brother, ſo often mentioned, got a
warm houſe of his own over his head, than he be-
gan to look big, and take mightily upon him; in-
fomuch that, unleſs the gentle reader, out of his
great candour, will pleaſe a little to exalt his idea,
I ain afraid he will henceforth hardly know the
hero of the play, when he happens to meet him ;
his part, his dreſs, and his mien being ſo much
altered.
He told his brothers, he would have them to
know that he was their elder, and conſequently
his father's fole heir; nay, a while after he would
not allow them to call him brother, but Mr. PE-
TER; and then he muſt be ſtyled FATHER PE-
TER, and ſometimes My LORD PETER, To
ſupport this grandeur, which he ſoon began to
conſider could not be maintained without a better
fonde than what he was borne to; after much
thought, he caſt about at laſt to turn projector and
virtuofo ; wherein he ſo well ſucceeded, that many
famous diſcoveries, projects, and machines, which
bear great vogue and practice at preſent in the
world, are owing entirely to LORD PETER's in-
vention. I will deduce the beſt account I have
been able to collect of the chief amongſt them;
without conſidering much the order they came out
in; becauſe, I think, authors are not well agreed
as to that point.
I hope,
st
84 A TALE OF A TUB.
I hope, when this treatiſe of mine ſhall be trans-
lated into foreign languages, (as I may, without
vanity affirin, that the labour of collecting, the
faithfulneſs of recounting, and the great uſeful-
neſs of the matter to the public, will amply deſerve
that juſtice), that the worthy members of the ſeve-
ral academies abroad, eſpecially thoſe of France and
Italy, will favourably accept theſe humble offers for
the advancement of univerfal knowledge, I do
alſo advertiſe the Moſt Reverend Fathers the eaſtern
miſſionaries, that I have purely for their fakes,
made uſe of ſuch words and phraſes as will beſt
admit an eaſy turn into any of the oriental lan-
guages, eſpecially the Chineſe. And ſo I proceed,
with great content of mind, upon reflecting how
much emolument this whole globe of the earth is
like to reap by my labours.
The firſt undertaking of Lord Peter was, to pur-
chaſe a large continent *, lately ſaid to have been
diſcovered in Terra Auſtralis Incognita. This tract
of land he bought at a very great pennyworth from
the diſcovers themſelves, (though ſome pretended
to doubt whether they had ever been there), and
then retailed it into ſeveral cantons to certain deal-
ers, who carried over colonies, but were all ſhip-
wrecked in the voyage. Upon which Lord Peter
fold the faid continent to other cuſtomers again,
and again, and again, and again, with the ſame
fuccels.
The ſecond project I ſhall mention was his fove-
reign remedy for the worms *, eſpecially thoſe in
the ſpleen. The patient was to eat nothing after
* That is purgatory.
* Penance and abro!ition are prayed upon under the notio: of a
fovereign remedy for the worms, eſpecially in the ſpleen; which by
obſerving Peter's preſcription, would void infenfib'y by perſpiracion,
afcending through th: bz in, &c. W. Wosion,
fupper,
Sect. 4. A TALE OF A TUB.
85
fupper for three nightst. As ſoon as he went to
bed, he was carefully to lie on one fide; and when
he grew weary, to turn upon the other. He muſt
alſo duly confine his two eyes to the fame object;
and by no means break wind at both ends together,
without manifeſt occaſion. Theſe preſcriptions di-
ligently obſerved, the worms would void inſenſibly
by perſpiration, afcending through the brain.
Å third invention was the erečting of a whiſper-
ing-office #, for the public good and eaſe of all ſuch
as are hypochondriacal, or troubled with the co-
lic; as likewife of all eves-droppers, phyſicians,
midwives, finall politicians, friends fallen out, re-
peating poets, lovers happy or in deſpair, bawds,
privy-counſellors, pages, paraſites, and buffoons :
In ſhort, of all ſuch as are in danger of burſting
with too much wind. An aſi's head was placed ſo
conveniently, that the party affected inight eaſily
with his mouth accoſt either of the animal's ears;
to which he was to apply clofe for a certain ſpace,
and by a fugitive faculty, peculiar to the ears of
that animal, receive immediate benefit, either by
cructation, or expiration, or evomition.
Another very beneficial project of Lord Peter's
was an office of inſurance * for tobacco-pipes, már-
tyrs of the modern zeal ; volumes of poetry, fha-
dows, ----and rivers: that theſe, nor any of theſe,
thall receive damage by fire. From whence our
friendly focieties may plainly find themſelves to be
only tranſcribers from this original; though the
+ Here the author ridicules the penances of the church of
Rome; which may be made as eaſy to the finner as he pleaſes, pro-
vided he will pay for them accordingly.
1 By his whiſpering office, for the relief of eves-droppers, phyfi.
cians, bawds, and privy counf :lors, he ridicules auricular contes-
fion; and the prieſt who takes it, is deſcribed by the aſs's head. W.
Wotton,
This I take to be the office of indulgencies, the groſs abuſes
whereof first gave occaſion for the reformation,
VOL. I.
H
one
86
A TALE OF A TUB.
one and the other have been of great benefit to the
undertakers, as well as of equal to the public.
Lord Peter was alſo held the original author of
puppets and raree-foowst; the great uſefulneſs
whereof being ſo generally known, I ſhall not en-
large further upon this particular.
But another diſcovery, for which he was much
renowned, was his fainous univerſal pickle I. Fo
having remarked, how your common pickle I, in
uſe among houſewives, was of no farther benefit
than to preſerve dead fleſh, and certain kinds of
vegetables ; Peter, with great coft, as well as art,
had contrived a pickle proper for houſes, gardens,
towns, men, women, children, and cattle; where-
in he could preſerve them as.ſound as infects in am-
ber. Now, this pickle to the taſte, the fihell, and
the fight, appeared exactly the ſame with what is
in common ſervice for beef, and butter, and her-
rings, and has been often that way applied with
great ſucceſs; but for its many ſovereign virtues,
was a quite different thing. For Peter would put in
a certain quantity of his powder pimperlimpimp **,
after which it never failed of ſucceſs. The operation
was performed by Spargefaclion *, in a proper time
of the moon. The patient, who was to be pickled,
if it were a houſe, would infallibly be preſerved
from all ſpiders, rats, and weazels; if the party
affected were a dog, he ſhould be exempt from
.
+ I believe are the monkeries and ridiculous proceſſions, &c. a-
mong the Papiſts.
I Holy water he calls an univerfal pickle, to preſerve houſes, gar-
dens, towns, men, women, children, and cattic, wherein he could
preſerve them as found as infects in amber. W. Wotton,
# This is eaſily underitood to be holy water, compoſed of the
fame ingredients with many other pickles.
** And becauſe holy water differt only in confecration from com-
mon water, therefore he tells us, that his pickle by the powder of
pimperlimpimp receives new virtucs, though it differs not in light
nor (mell from the common pickles, which preſerve beef, and but-
ter, and herrings. W. Wotton.
* Sprinkling.
mange,
Sect. 4. .
87
A TALE OF A TUB:
mange, and madneſs, and hunger. It alſo infalli-
bly took away all ſcabs and lice, and ſcald-heads
from children ; never hindering the patient from
any duty, either at bed or board.
But of all Peter's rarities, he moſt valued a cer:.
tain ſet of bulls t, whoſe race was by great fortunc
preſerved in a lineal deſcent from thoſe that guard-
ed the golden fleece; though ſome who pretended
to obſerve them curiouſly, doubted the breed had
not been kept entirely chaſte ; becauſe they had
degenerated from their anceſtors in ſome qualities,
and had acquired others very extraordinary, but a
foreign mixture. The bulls of Colchos are record-
ed to have brazen feet. But whether it happened
by ill paſture and running, by an allay from inter-
vention of other parents, from ſtolen intrigues ;
whether a weaknefs in their progenitors had im-
paired the feminal virtue, or by a decline neceffary
through a long courſe of time, the originals of na-
ture being depraved in theſe latter finful ages of
the world: whatever was the cauſe, it is certain
that Lord Peter's bulls were extremely vitiated by
the ruft of time, in the metal of their feet, which
was now funk into common lead. However, the
terrible roaring peculiar to their lineage, was pre-
ferved, as likewiſe, that faculty of breathing out
fire from their noſtrils 1; which notwithſtanding
many of their detractors took to be a feat of art,
and to be nothing fo terrible as it appeared, pro-
+ The Papal bulls are ridiculed by name; ſo that here we are at
no loſs for the author's meaning W. Wotton.
Ibid. Here the author has kept the name, and means the Pope's
bulls, or rather his fulminations, and excommunications of heretical
princes, all ſigned with lead, and the ſcal of the fiſhermes ; and:
therefore ſaid to have leaden feet and fithes tails.
I Theſe paſſages, and many others, no doubt, muſt be conſtrued
as antichriſtian, by the church of Rome. When the chief miniſter
and his minions are expoſed, the keener the ſatire, the more liable
is it to be interpreted into high treaſon againſt the King. Orrery.
H 2
ceeding
88
A TALE OF A TUB.
ceeding only from their uſual courſe of diet, which
was of ſquibs and crackers * However, they had
two peculiar marks, which extremely diftinguiſhed
them from the bulls of Jafon, and which I have
not met together in the deſcription of any other
monſter, beſide that in Horace,
Varias inducere plumas
and
Atrum definit in pifcem.
For theſe had fiſhes tails; yet upon occaſion could
tut-fly any bird in the air. Peter put theſe bulls
upon ſeveral employs. Sometimes he would fet
them a roaring to fright naughty borst, and make
them quiet. Sometimes he would ſend them out
upon errands of great importance; where it is
wonderful to recount, and perhaps the cautious
reader may think much to believe it; an appetitus
fenfibilis deriving itſelf through the whole family,
from their noble anceſtors, guardians of the golden
fleece; they continued fo extremely fond of gold,
that if Peter fent them abroad, though it were on-
ly upon a compliment, they would roar and ſpit,
and belch, and piſs, and fart, and (nivel out fire,
and keep a perpetual coil, till you flung them a bit
of gold ; 'but then, pulveris exigui jačtu, they
would grow calm and quiet as lambs. In ſhort,
tvhether by ſecret connivance, or encouragement
from their maſter, or out of their own liquorifh
affection to gold, or both; it is certain they were
no better than a ſort of ſturdy, ſwaggering beggars;
and, where they could not prevail to get an alms,
would make women miſcarry, and children fall in-
to fits; who to this very day, uſually call ſprights
and hobgoblins by the name of bull-beggars. They
Theſe are the fulminations of the Pope, threatening hell and
damnation to thoſe princes who offend him.
+ That is, kings who incurred his diſpleaſure.
grew
Sect. 4.
A TALE OF A TUB. 89
grew at laſt ſo very troubleſome to the neighbour-
hood, that ſome gentlemen of the north-weſt got a
parcel of right Engliſh bull-dogs, and baited them
10 terribly, that they felt it ever after,
I muſt needs mention one more of Lord Peter's
projects, which was very extraordinary, and diſco-
vered him to be maſter of a high reach and pro-
found invention. Whenever it happened that any
rogue of Newgate was condemned to be hanged,
Peter would offer him a pardon for a certain fum
of money; which when the poor caitiff had made
all ſhifts to ſcrape up, and fend, his lordſhip would
return a piece of paper in this form *
To all mayors, ſheriffs, jailors; conſtables, bai-
liffs, hangmen, &c. Whereas we are inform-
ed, that A. B. remains in the hands of you, or
“ ſome of you, under the ſentence of death; wc
" will and command you, upon fight hereof, to
" let the ſaid priſoner depart to his own habitation,
" whether he ſtands .condemned for murder, fo-
" domy, rape, facrilege, inceſt, treaſon, blafphe-
my, &c. for which this ſhall be your fufficient
warrant. And if you fail hereof, G-dd-mn
you and yours to all eternity. And fo we bid
you heartily farewel.
Your moft humble
.
Man's man,
EMPEROR PETER."
The wretches truſting to this, loſt their lives and
money too.
I defire of thoſe, whom the learned among po-
ſterity will appoint for commentators upon this e-
laborate treatiſe, that they will proceed with great
* This is a copy of a general pardon, bigned Servus fervorum.
Ibid. Abſolution in articulo mortis; and the tax camera apoftolica,
arc jefted upon in Emperor Peter's letter, W.Watcom.
caution
H 3
90 A TALE OF A TUB.
caution upon certain dark points, wherein all who
are not verè adepti, may be in danger to form rafh
and haſty concluſions, eſpecially in fome myſterious
paragraphs, where certain arcana are joined for
brevity's fake, which in the operation muſt be di-
vided. And I am certain, that future ſons of art
will return large thanks to my memory, for ſo
grateful, ſo uſeful an innuendo.
It will be no difficult part to perſuade the reader,
that ſo many worthy diſcoveries met with great ſuc-
ceſs in the world; though I may juſtly afſure him,
that I have related much the ſmalleſt number; my
deſign having been only to fingle out fuch as will
be of moſt benefit for public imitation, or which
beſt ſerved to give ſome idea of the reach and wit
of the inventor. And therefore it need not be
wondered, if by this time Lord Peter was become
exceeding rich. But, alas ! he had kept his brain
to long and fo violently upon the rack, that at laſt
it ſhook itſelf, and began to turn round for a little
eaſe. In ſhort, what with pride, projects, and
knavery, poor Peter was grown diſtracted, and
conceived the ſtrangeſt imaginations in the world.
In the height of his fits, as it is uſual with thoſe
who run mad out of pride, he would call himſelf
God Almighty *, and ſometimes monarch of the
univerſe. I have ſeen him (ſays my author) take
three old high-crowned hats t, and clap them all
on his head, three ſtory high, with a huge bunch
of keys at his girdle , and an angling-rod in his
* The Pope is not only allowed to be the vicar of Chrift, but by ſe-
veral divines is called God upon earth, and other blaſphemous titles
are given him,
+ The triple crown.
| The keys of the church. The church is here taken for the
gate of heaven; for the keys of heaven are affumed by the Pope in
conſequence of what our Lord ſaid to Peter. “I will give unto thee,
the keys of the kingdom of heaven,
Ibid. The Pope's univerſal mopaschy, and his triple crown, and
fiducr's ring. W. Wotten,
hand.
Sect. 4.
91
A TALE OF A TUB.
hand. In which guiſe, whoever went to take him
by the hand in the way of falutation, Peter, with
much grace, like a well-educated ſpaniel, would
preſent them with his foot ý: and if they refuſed
his civility, then he would raiſe it as high as their
chaps, and give them a damned kick on the mouth;
which hath ever ſince been called a falute. Whoe-
ver walked by without paying him their compli-
incnts, having a wonderful ſtrong brcath, he would
blow their hats off into the dirt. Mean time, his
affairs at home went upſide down, and his two bro-
thers had a wretched time; where his firſt boutade *
was, to kick both their wives one morning out of
doors t, and his own too; and, in their ftcad,
gave orders to pick up the firſt three ſtrollers could
be met with in the ſtreets. A while after he nailed
up the cellar-door ; and would not allow his bro-
thers a drop of drink to their victuals $. Dining
one day at an alderman's in the city, Peter obferv.
ed him expatiating, after the manner of his bre-
thren, in the praiſes of his firloin of beef. “ Beef,"
ſaid the fage magiſtrate, " is the king of meat :
“ Beef comprehends in it the quinteſſence of par-
tridge, and quail, and veniſon, and pheaſant,
* and plum-pudding, and cuſtard.” When Peter
came home, he would needs take the fancy of
cooking up this doctrine into uſe, and apply the
precept, in default of a ſirloin, to his brown loaf.
** Bread," ſays he,“ dear brothers, is the ſtaff of
life ; in which bread is contained, incluſive, the
§ Neither does his arrogant way of requiring men to kits his nip-
per, eſcape reflection, W. Wotton.
* This word properly ſignifies a ſudden jerk, or larh of an horſe,
when you do not expect it.
# The celibacy of the Romiſh clergy is ftruck at in Peter's beating
bis own and brother's wives out of doors, W. Wo:tan.
I The Pope's refuſing the cup to the laity, perſuading them that
the blood is contained in the broad, and that the bread is the real and
colire body of Chrift,
"
quinteſſence
92
A TALE OF A TUB.
6
“ quinteſſence of beef, mutton, veal, venifon, par-
tridge, plum-pudding, and cuſtard : and to ren-
“ der all complete, there is intermingled a due
quantity of water, whoſe crudities are alſo cor-
" rected by yeaſt or barm, through which means it
“ becomes a wholefome fermented liquor, diffuſed
" through the maſs of the bread." Upon the
ſtrength of theſe conclufions, next day at dinner,
was the brown loaf ferved up in all the formality of
a city-featt. “ Come, brothers," faid Peter," fall
to, and ſpare not; here is excellent good mut-
“ ton ç: or hold, now my hand is in, I will help
you.”
At which word, in much ceremony,
with fork and knife he carves out two good ſlices of
a loaf, and preſents each on a plate to his brothers.
The elder of the two, not ſuddenly entering into
Lord Peter's conceit, began with very civil lan-
guage to examine the myſtery. My Lord,” ſaid
he, “ I doubt, with great fubmiffion, there may
be ſome miſtake.' «What,” ſays Peter, “ you are
“ pleaſant : come then, let us hear this jeſt your
s head is ſo big with. None in the world, my
“ Lord; but, unleſs I am very much deceived,
“ your Lordfhip was pleaſed a while ago to let fall
a word about mutton, and I would be glad to fee
" it with all my heart." “How,” ſaid Peter, ap-
pearing in great ſurpriſe, “ I do not comprehend
* this at all." Upon which, the younger in-
terpofing to ſet the buſineſs aright; My Lord,”
Taid he,“ my brother, I ſuppoſe, is hungry, and
“ longs for the mutton your Lordſhip hath promi.
“ fed us to dinner." "Pray,” ſaid Peter, “take me
along with
you.
Either you are both mad, or
** diſpoſed to be merrier than I approve of. If
§ Tranſubſtantiation. Peter turns his bread into mutton, and,
according to the Popish doctrine of concomitants, his wine too,
which in his way he calls palming his damned cruſts upon the bio-
thers for mutton, W. Worron,
“ you
Sect. 4.
93
A TALE OF A TUB.
you there do not like your piece, I will carve
“ you another; though I ſhould take that to be
" the choice bit of the whole ſhoulder." « What
then, my Lord,” replied the firſt, “ it ſeems this
" is a shoulder of mutton all this while." · Pray,
Sir," fays Peter, “ eat your victuals, and leave
“ off your impertinence, if you pleaſe, for I am
“ not diſpoſed to reliſh it at preſent." But the o-
ther could not forbear being overprovoked at the
affected ſeriouſneſs of Peter's countenance. Ву.
“ G-, my Lord,” ſaid he, “ I can only ſay,
that, to my eyes, and fingers, and teeth, and
noſe, it ſeems to be nothing but a cruft of
“ bread." Upon which the ſecond put in his
word: “ I never faw a piece of mutton in my life
“ fo nearly reſembling a ſlice from a twelve-penny
* loaf,” « Look ye, Gentlemen," cries Peter in a
rage, " to convince you, what a couple of blind,
poſitive, ignorant, wilful puppies you are, I will
« uſe but this plain argument: By G-,, it is true,
good, natural mutton, as any in Leadenhall-
“ market, and G-confound you both eternally, ;
if you offer to believe otherwiſe.” Such a
thundering proof as this, left no further room for
objection. The two unbelievers began to gather
and pocket up their miſtake as haſtily as they could.
Why, truly,” ſaid the firſt,“ upon more ma-
“ ture conſideration"_"Ay" ſays the other, inter-
rupting him, “ now I have thought better on the
" thing, your Lordthip ſeems to have a great deal
" of reaſon.' “Very well,” ſaid Peter. “ Here,
boy, fill me a beer-glaſs of claret; here's to you
“ both with all my heart." The two brethren,
inuch delighted to ſee him ſo readily appeafed, re-
turned their moſt humble thanks, and ſaid, they
would be glad to pledge his Lórdſhip. “That you
“ fhall," ſaid Peter. “I am not a perſon to refuſe
you any thing that is reaſonable. Wine, mode
rately taken, is a cordial. Here is a glaſs a-piece
for
94
A TALE OF A TUB.
“ for you ; it is true natural juice from the grape,
none of your damned vintners brewings.” Hav-
ing fpoke thus, he preſented to each of them ano-
ther large dry cruft, bidding them drink it off, and
not be baſhful; for it would do them no hurt.
The two brothers, after having performed the u-
fual office in ſuch delicate conjunctures, of ſtaring
a fufficient period at Lord Peter, and each other ;
and finding how matters were like to go, reſolved
not to enter on a new diſpute, but let him carry
the point as he pleaſed : for he was now got into
one of his mad fits; and to argue or expoftulate
further, would only ſerve to render him a hundred
times more untractable,
I have chofen to relate this worthy matter in all
its circumſtances, becauſe it gave a principal oc-
cation to that great and famous rupture *, which
happened about the ſame time among theſe bre-
thren, and was never afterwards made up. But of
that I ſhall treat at large in another ſection.
However, it is certain, that Lord Peter, even
in his lucid intervals, was very lewdly given in his
common converſation, extreme wilful and poſitive;
and would at any time, rather argue to the death,
than allow himſelf once to be in an error. Beſides,
he had an abominable faculty of telling huge pal-
pable lyes upon alt oecafions, and not only fwearing
to the truth, but curfing the whole company to
hell, if they pretended to make the leaſt ſcruple of
believing him. One time he wore he had a cow at
home, which gave as much milk.at a meal as would
fill three thouſand churches; and what was yet
more extraordinary, would never turn fourt. An-
. By this rupture is meant the reformation.
+ The ridiculous multiplying of the Virgin Mary's milk amongſt
the Papifts, under the allegory of a cow, which gave as much milki.
at a meal as would fill three thouſand churches. W. Wotton,
other
Suet. 4.
95
A TALE OF A TUB.
other time he was telling of an old ſign-poſt I that
belonged to his father, with nails and timber e-
nough in it to build ſixteen large men of war.
Talking one day of Chineſe waggons, which were
made fo light as to fail over mountains : “ Z-ds,"
ſaid Peter, « where's the wonder of that? By G---,
“ I ſaw a large houſe of lime and ſtone travel over
“ fea and land, granting that it ſtopped fometimes
to bait, above two thouſand German leagues *.”
And that which was the good of it, he would ſwear
deſperately all the while, that he never told a lie in
his life ; and, at every word, “By G-
By G, Gentle-
" men, I tell you nothing but the truth; and the
<dl broil them eternally that will not believe
me."
In ſhort, Peter grew fo fcandalous, that all the
neighbourhood began in plain words to ſay, he was
no better than a knave. And his two brothers,
long weary of his ill uſage, reſolved at laſt to leave
him; but firſt they humbly deſired a copy of their
father's will, which had now lain by neglected time
out of mind, Inſtead of granting this requeſt, he
called them damned Sons of whores, rogues, traitors,
and the reſt of the vile names he could muſter up.
However, while he was abroad one day upon his
projects, the two youngfters watched their oppor-
tunity, made a ſhift to come at the will, and took
a copia vera t; by which they preſently faw how
1 By this fign-poft is meant the croſs of our bleſled Saviour ;
and if all the wood that is ſhewn for parts of it, was collected, the
quantity wou'd ſufficiently juſtify this ſarcaſm,
• The chapel of Loretto. He falls here only upon the ridiculous
invention of Popery. The church of Rome intended by theſe things
to gall filly fuperftitious people, and rook them of their money. The
world had been too long in lavery; but our ancefors gloriouſly re-
deemed us from :hat yoke. The church of Rome therefore cughe
to be expoſed ; and he deſerves well of mankind that does expofe it.
W. Worton,
Ibid. The chapel of Loretto, which travelled from the Holy
Land to Italy.
† 'Tranſlaied the ſcriptures into the vulgar torgues,
groſsly
JO
À TALE OF A TUB.
groſsly they had been abuſed; their father having
left them equal heirs, and ſtrictly coinmanded,
that whatever they got ſhould lye in coinmon a-
mong them all. Purſuant to which, their next
enterpriſe was, to break open the cellar-door, and
get a little good drink to fpirit and comfort their
hearts f. In copying the will, they had met ano-
ther precept againſt whoring, divorce, and fepa-
rate maintenance; upon which their next work
was, to diſcard their concubines, and ſend for
their wives 1. Whilſt all this was in agitation,
there enters a ſolicitor from Newgate, defiring
Lord Peter would pleaſe to procure a pardon for a
thief that was to be hanged to-morrow. But the
two brothers told him, he was a coxcomb, to ſeck
pardons from a fellow who deſerved to be hanged
inuch better than his client; and diſcovered all the
method of that impoſture, in the ſame form I de-
livered it a while ago; adviſing the folicitor to put
his friend upon obtaining a pardon from the king *.
In the midſt of all this clutter and revolution, in
comes Peter with a file of dragoons at his heels † ;
and gathering from all hands what was in the
wind, he and his gang, after ſeveral millions of
ſcurrilites and curſes, not very important here to
repeat, by main force very fairly kicks them both
out of doors 5, and would never let them come unk-
der his roof from that day to this.
| Adminiſtered the cup to the laity at the communion.
i Allowed the marriages of prieſts.
Directed penitents got to truſt to pardons and abſolutions pro-
cured for money; but ſent them to implore the mercy of God, from
whence alone remiffion is to be obtained.
+ By Peter's dragoons is meant the civil power, which thoſe princes
who were bizotted to the Romih superſtition, employed againſt the
reformers.
I The Pope ſhuts all who diffent from him out of the church.
SECT.
.
Sect. 5.
97
A digreflion in the modern kind.
SECT. V.
A digrefion in the modern kind.
WE
whom the world is pleaſed to honour with
the title of modern authors, ſhould never have
been able to compaſs our great deſign of an e-
verlaſting remembrance, and never-dying fame, if
our endeavours had not been ſo highly ſerviceable
to the general good of mankind. This, o Uni-
verſe, is the adventurous attempt of me thy fc-
cretary ;
Quenivis perferre laborem
Suadct, et inducit noctes vigilare ſerenas.
upon the
To this end, I have ſome time ſince, with a
world of pains and art, diffected the carcaſe of hu-
man nature, and read many uſeful lectures
ſeveral parts, both containing and contained'; ţill at
laſt it fm-It ſo ſtrong, I could preſerve it no longer.
Upon which, I have been at a great expence to fit ,
up all the bones with exact contexture, and in due
ſymmetry; ſo that I am ready to fhew a very com-
plete anatomy thereof to all curious gentlemen
and others. But, not to digreſs farther in the inidſt
of a digreffion, as I have known fome authors in-
clofe digreflions in one another like a neſt of
boxes; I do affirm, that having carefully cut up
human nature, I have found a very ſtrange, new,
and important diſcovery; that the public good of
mankind is performed by two ways, inſtruction and
diverfin. And I have farther proved in my ſaid
ſeveral readings, (which perhaps the world may
one day fee, if I can prevail on any friend to ſteal a
VOL. I.
I
copy,
98
A TALE OF A TUB.
copy, or on any certain gentleman of my admirere,
to be very importunate), that, as inankind is now
diſpoſed, he receives much greater advantage by be-
ing diverted than inſtructed; his epidemical diſeaſes
being faſtidioſity, amorphy, and oſcitation.; whereas,
in the preſent univerſal empire of wit and learn-
ing, there ſeems but little matter left for inſtruc-
tion. However, in compliance with a lefion of great
age and authority, I have attempted carrying the
point in all its heights, and accordingly, through-
out this divine treatiſe, have ikilfully kneaded up
both together, with a layer of utile, and a layer of
dulce
When I conſider how.exceedingly our illuſtrious
moderns have eclipſed the weak glimmering lights of
the ancients, and turned them out of the road of
all faſhionable commerce, to a degree, that our
choice town-wits, of moſt refined accompliſhınents,
are in grave diſpute, whether there have been ever
any ancients or no *; in which point we are like to
receive wonderful fatisfaction from the moſt uſeful
labours and lucubrations of that worthy modern
Dr. Bentley : I ſay, when I conſider all this, I can-
not but bewail, that no famous modern hath ever
yet attempted an univerfal ſyſtem, in a ſmall port-
able volume, of all things that are to be known, or
believed, or imagined, or practiſed in life. I am
however forced to acknowledge, that ſuch an en-
terpriſe was thought on ſome time ago, by a great
philofopher of O. Braſil * The method he pro-
poſed, was by a certain curious receipt, a noſtrum,
which, after his untimely death, I found among
* The Icarned perſon here meant by our author, hath been en-
deavouring to annihilate ſo many antient writers, that, until he is
pleaſed to ſtop his hand, it will be dangerous to affirm, whether
there have been any ancients in the world.
* This is an imaginary iſland, of kin to that which is called the
painters wives iſland placed in ſome unknown part of the ocean, mere.
ly at the fancy of the map.makcr.
his
Sect. 5.
99
A digreffion in the moders kind.
his papers; and do here, out of my great affection
to the modern learned, prcfent them with it ; not
doubting, it may one day day encourage fome wor-
diy undertaker,
“ You take fair. correct copies, well bound in
" calfſkin, and lettered at the back, of all, modern
« bodies of arts and ſciences whatfoever, and in
what language you pleaſe. Theſe you diſtil in
** balneo Maria, intuſing quintefence of poppy, 9. L.
together with three pints of lethe, to be had froin
" the apothecaries, You cleanfc away carefully
“the fordes and caput mortuum, letting all that is
« volatile evaporate. You preſerve only the firſt
" running, which is again to be diſtilled feventeen
times, till ivhat remains will amount to about two
“ drams. This. you keep in a glaſs vial hermetically
“ ſealed, for one and twenty days; then you be-
gin your catholic treatiſe, taking every morning
fafting, firſt ſhaking the vial, three drops of
“ this elixir, ſnuffing it ſtrongly up your noſe. It
" will dilate itſelf about the brain (where there is
“ any) in fourteen minutes, and you immediately
perceive in your head an infinite number of ab-
" Tracts, fummaries, compendiums, extraets, collec-
• tions, medulla's excerpta quædams, florilegia's,
" and the like, all diſpoſed into great order, and
“ reducible upon paper.”
I muſt needs own, it was by the affiftance of this
arcanum, that I though otherwiſe impar, have ad-
ventured
upon ſo daring an attempt; never achiev-
ed or undertaken before, but by a certain author
called Homer; in whom, though otherwiſe a
perſon not without ſome abilities, and for an
ancient of a tolerable genius, I have diſcovered
many groſs.errors, which are not to be forgiven
his very aſhes, . if by chance any of thein are left,
For whereas we are aſſured, he deſigned his work
1.2
for
I00
A TALE OF A TUB.
for a complete body t of all knowledge, human, di-
vine, political, and mechanic; it is manifeſt, he
hath wholly neglected fome, and been very imper-
fect in the reſt. For, firſt of all, as eminent a
cabaliſt as his difciples would repreſent him, his ac-
count of the opus magnum is extremely poor and
deficient ; he ſeems to have read but very fuperfi-
cuilly either Sendivogus, Behmen, or Anthropo.
fophia Theomagica * He is alſo quite miſtaken
about the fphæra pyroplaſtica, a neglect not to be
atoned for ; and, if the reader will admit fo fevere
a cenſure, vix crederem autorem hunc unquam ardi-
ville ignis vocem. His failings are not lefs promi.
nent in feveral parts of the mechanics. For, having
read his writings with the utmoſt application uſual
among modern wits, I could never yet diſcover the
leaſt direction about the ſtructure of that uſeful in-
ftrument, a fave-all. For want of which, if the
moderns had not lent their affiſtance, we might yet
have wandered in the dark. But I have till
behind. a fault far more notorious to tax this au-
thor with; I mean, his grofs ignorance in the com-
mon laws of this realm, and in the doctrine, as well
as diſcipline of the church of England t: A defect
indeed, for which both he and all the ancient's
fand moſt juftly cenfured by my worthy and inge-
nious friend, Mr. Wotton, Batchelor of Divinity,
in his incomparable treatife of ancient and modern
learning ; a book nėver to be ſufficiently valued,
F Homerus omnes res humanas posmatis compkixus eft, I
nopb. in cinvit.
*. A treatiſe written about fifty years ago, by a Welch gentleman
of Cambridge. His name, as I rem mber, was Vaughan; as appa: :
by the anſwer to it written by the learned Dr. Henry Moor. It is a
piece of the moft dointell gible furian, that perhaps was ever polith
ed in any language.
Mr. Wotton, (to whom our author never gives any quarter),
in his compariſon of ancient and modern learning, numbers divinity, .
law, etc. among thoſe parts of knowledge wherein we excel the
ancients.
whether
Sect. 5.
A digreffion in the modern kind.
101
whether we conſider the happy turns and flowings
of the author's wit, the great uſefulneſs of his fub-
lime diſcoveries upon the ſubject of flies and ſpittle,
or the laborious eloquence of his ſtyle. And I
cannot forbear doing that author the juſtice of my
public acknowledgments, for the great helps and
liftings I had out of his incomparable piece, while
I was penning this treatiſe.
But, belides theſe omiſſions in Homer, already
mentioned, the curious reader will alſo obſerve ſe-
veral defects in that author's writings, for which
he is not altogether fo accountable. For whereas
every branch of knowledge has received ſuch won-
derful acquirements ſince his age, eſpecially within
theſe laſt three years, or thereabouts; it is almoſt
iinpoſſible, he could be fo very perfect in modern
diſcoveries, as his advocates pretend. We freely
acknowledge him to be the inventor of the compaſs,
of gun-powder, and the circulation of the blood. But i
challenge any of his admirers, to thew me in all his
writings a complete account of the ſpleen. Does he
not allo leave us wholly to ſeek in the art of politi-
cal wngering? What can be more defective and
unſatisfactory than his long diſſertation upon tea?
And as to his method of ſalivation without mercury,
ſo much celebrated of late, it is to my own know-
ledge and experience, a thing very little to be re-
lied on.
It was to ſupply ſuch momentuous defects, that
I have been prevailed on, after long folicitation, to
take pen in hand; and I dare venture to promiſe,
the judicious reader ſhall find nothing neglected
here, that can be of uſe upon any emergency of
life. I am confident to have included and exhauft-
ed all that human imagination can riſe or fall to.
Particularly, I recommend to the perufal of the
learned, certain diſcoveries that are wholly un-
touched by others; whereof I ſhall only mention,
among a great many more, My new help for fmat-
I 3
terers ;
102
A TALE OF A TUB,
terers ; or, the art of being deep-learned, and allow-
read: A curicus invention absut mouſe-traps :----
An univerſal rule of reafon : or, Every man his own
cirver ; together with a moſt uſeful engine for
catching of owls. All which the judicious reader
will find largely treated on in the ſeveral parts
of this diſcourſe.
I hold myſelf obliged to give as much light as is
poflible, into the beauties and excellencies of what
I am writing; becauſe it is become the faſhion and
humour inoſt applauded among the firſt authors of
this polite and learned age, when they would cor-
rect the ill-nature of critical, or inform the igno-
rance of courteous readers. Beſides, there have
been ſeveral famous pieces lately publiſhed, both in
verfe and profe; wherein, if the writers had not
been pleaſed, out of their great humanity and af-
fection to the public, to give us a nice detail of the
ſublime and the admirable they contain, it is a thou-
fand to one, whether we ſhould ever have diſcovered
one grain of either. For my own particular, I cannot
deny, that whatever I have ſaid upon this occaſion,
had been more proper in a preface, and more a-
greeable to the mode, which uſually directs it thi.
ther. But I here think fit to lay hold on that great
and honourable privilege of being the laſt writer;
I claim an abſolute authority in right, as the freſh-
eft modern, which gives me a deſpotic power over all
authors before me. In the itrength of which
title, I do utterly diſapprove and declare againſt
that pernicious cuſtom, of making the preface a
bill of fare to the book. For I have always looked
upon it as a high point of indiſcretion in monfler-
mongers, and other retailers of frange fights, to
hang out a fair large picture over the door, drawn
after the life, with a moſt eloquent deſcription un-
derneath. This hath faved me many a three-pence;
for my curioſity was fully ſatisfied, and I never of..
fered to go in, though often invited by the urging.
and
Sect. 5.
103
A digrefion in the modern kind.
and attending orator, with his laſt moving and ſtandirg
piece of rhetoric, “Sir, upon my word, we are juſt
going to begin.” Such is exactly the fate, at this
ti!ne, of Prefaces, Epiftles, Advertiſements, Intro-
du Sions, Prolegomena's, Apparatus's, To the readers.
This expedient was admirable at firſt. Our great
Dryden has long carried it as far as it would go,
and with incredible ſucceſs. He hath often ſaid to
me in confidence, that the world would have never
ſuſpected him to be fo great a poet, if he had not
affured them fo frequently in his prefaces, that it
was impoſſible they could either doubt or forget it.
Perhaps it may be fo: However, I much fear, his
inſtructions have edified out of their place, and
taught inen to grow wiſer in certain points, where
he never intended they ſhould : For it is lament-
able to behold, with what a lazy fcorn many of the
yawning readers of our age do now-a-days twirl
over forty or fifty pages of preface and dedication,
(which is the uſual mod rn ſtint), as if it were ſo
much Latin. Though it muſt be alſo allowed, on
the other hand, that a very conſiderable number is
known to proceed critics and wits, by reading no-
thing elſe. Into which two factions, I think, all
preſent readers may juſtly be divided. Now, for
inyfelf, I profeſs to be of the former fort; and
therefore, having the modern inclination to expa-
tiate upon the beauty of my own productions, and
diſplay the bright parts of my diſcourſe, I thought
beit to do it in the body of the work, where, as it
low lies, it makes a very conſiderable addition to
the bulk of the volume; a circumſtance by no means
to be neglected by a ſkilful writer.
Having thus paid my due deference and acknow-
ledgment to an eſtabliſhed cuſtom of our neweſt
authors, by a long digrefion unfought for, and an uni-
verſal cenſure unprovoked ; by forcing into the light,
with much pains and dexterity, my own excellen-
cies, and other mens defaults, with great juſtice to
myſelf
:
104
A TALE OF A TUB.
myſelf, and candour to them ; I now happily re-
fume my ſubject, to the infinite ſatisfaction both of
the reader and the author.
SECT. VI.
A TALE OF A TUB.
WE left Lord Peter in open
rupture with
his two
brethren; both for ever diſcarded from his
houſe, and reſigned to the wide world, with little
or nothing to truſt to. Which are circumſtances
that render them proper ſubjects for the charity of
a writer's pen to work on; ſcenes of miſery ever
affording the faireft harveſt for great adventures.
And in this the world may perceive the difference
between the integrity of a generous author, and
that of a common friend. The latter is obſerved
to adhere cloſe in proſperity, but, on the decline
of fortune, to drop ſuddenly off: whereas the ge-
nerous author, juſt on the contrary, finds his hero
on the dunghill, from thence by gradual ſteps raiſ-
es him to a throne, and then immediately with-
draws, expecting not ſo much as thanks for his
pains. In imitation of which example, I have pla-
ced Lord Peter in a noble houſe, given him a title
to wear, and money to ſpend. There I ſhall leave
him for ſome time; returning where common cha-.
rity directs me, to the affiftance of his two bro-
thers at their loweſt ebb. However, I ſhall by no
means forget my character of an hiſtorian, to fol-
low the truth, ſtep by ſtep, whatever happens, or
wherever it may lead me.
The two exiles, fo nearly united in fortune and
intereft, took a lodging together; where, at their
firſt
Seet. 6. A TALE OF A TUB.
105
firſt leiſure, they began to reflect on the numberiefs
misfortunes and vexations of their life paſt; and
could not tell, on the ſudden, to what failure in
their conduct they ought to impute them; when,
after ſome recollection, they called to mind the
copy of their father's will, which they had fo hap-
pily recovered. This was immediately produced,
and a firm reſolution taken between them, to alter
whatever was already amiſs, and reduce all their
future meaſures to the ſtricteſt obedience preſcrib-
ed therein. The main body of the will (as the
reader cannot eaſily have forgot) conſiſted in cer-
tain admirable rules about the wearing of their
coats: in the perufal whereof, the two brothers,
at every period duly comparing the doctrine with
the practice, there was never ſeen a wider differ-
ence between two is things; horrible, downright
tranſgreſſions of every point, Upon which they
both refolved, without further delay, to fall im-
mediately upon reducing the whole exactly after
their father's model.
But here it is good to ſtop the haſty reader, ever
impatient to ſee the end of an adventure, before we
writers can duly prepare him for it. I am to re-
cord, that theſe two brothers began to be diſtin-
guitled at this time by certain names. One of
them defired to be called MARTIN *, and the o-
ther took the appellation of JACK 7. i Theſe two
had lived in much friendſhip and agreement, under
the tyranny of their brother Peter, as it is the ta-
lent of fellow-fufferers to do; men in misfortune
being like men in the dark, to whom all colours
are the fame. But when they came forward into
the world, and began to diſplay themſelves to each
other, and to the light, their complexions appear
ed extremely different; which the preſent poſture
Martin Luther.
+ Johp:Calvin
of
106 A TALE OF A TUB:
of their affairs gave them a ſudden opportunity to
diſcover
But here the ſevere reader may juſtly tax, me as.
a writer of ſhort memory; a deficiency to which a
true modern cannot but, of neceility, be a little ſub-
ject : becauſe memory being an employment of the
mind upon things paſt, is a faculty, for which the
learned in our illuftrions age have no manner of
occafion, who deal entirely with invention, and
Atrike all things out of themſelves, or at leaſt by.
colliſion from each other : upon which account we
think it highly reaſonable to produce our great for
getfulneſs, as an argument urranſwerable for our
great wit. I ought, in method, to have informed
the reader about fifty pages ago, of a fancy Lord
Peter took, and infuſed into his brothers, to wear
on their coats whatever trimmings came up in fa-
fhion; never pulling off any as they went ont of
the mode, but keeping on all together; which a..
mounted in time to a medley, the moft antic you
can poſſibly conceive; and this to a degree, that,
upon the time of their falling out, there was hard-
ly a thread of the original coat to be feen; but
an infinite quantity of lace, and ribbands, and
fringe, and embroidery, and points; (I mean only
thołe tagged with hiver *, for the reſt. fell off).
Now, this material circumſtance having been
forgot in due place, as good fortune hath order.
ed, comes in very properly here, when the two
brothers are juft going to reform their veſtures
into the primitive ftate, preſcribed by their father's
will
They both unanimouſly entered upon this great
work, looking fometimes on their coats, and ſome-
times on the will. Martin laid the firſt hand; at
* Points tagged with filver, are thoſe doctrines that promote the
greatneſs and wealth of the church, which have been therefore woven
deepeſt in the body of Popery,
one
Sect. 6. : A TALE OF A TUB.
107
one twitch brought off a large handful of points;
and, with a ſecond pull, itripped away ten dozen
yards of fringe. But when he had gone thus far,
he demurred a while. He knew very well, there
yet remained a great deal more to be done. How-
ever, the firft heat being over, his violence began
to cool, and he reſolved to proceed more mode-
rately in the reſt of the work; having already nar-
rowly eſcaped a ſwinging rent in pulling off the
points, which, being tagged with ſilver, (as we have
obferved before, the judicious workman had with
much fagacity double fown, to preſerve them from
falling. Refolving therefore to rid his coat of a
huge quantity of gold lace, he picked up the ſtitch-
es with much caution, and diligently gleaned out
all the looſe threads as he went; which proved to
be a work of time. Then he fell about the en-
broidered Indian figures of men, women, and chil-
dren; againſt which, as you have heard in its due
place, their father's teſtament was extremely exact
and ſevere: theſe, with much dexterity and appli-
cation, were, after a while, quite eradicated, or
utterly defaced. For the reſt, where he obferved
the cmbroidery to be worked ſo cloſe, as not to be
got away without damaging the cloth, or where it
ferved to hide or ſtrengthen any flaw in the body
of the coat; contracted by the perpetual tampering
of workmen upon it; he concluded, the wiſeft
courſe was, to let it remain ; refolving in no cafe
whatſoever, that the ſubſtance of the ſtuff Mould
fuffer injury; which he thought the beſt method
for ſerving the true intent and meaning of his fa-
ther's will. And this is the neareſt account I have
been able to collect of Martin's proceedings upon
this great revolution *.
But
:
. The criticiſms of the Martinifts (whom we may ſuppoſe the
members of the church of England) were, it is to be hoped, more
candid
108
A TALE OF A TUB.
But his brother Jack t, whoſe adventures will be
ſo extraordinary, as to furniſh a great part in the
remainder of this diſcourſe, entered upon the mat-
ter with other thoughts, and a quite different ſpirit.
For the memory of Lord Peter's injuries produced
a degree of hatred and ſpite, which had a much
greater ſhare of inciting him, than any regards af-
ter his father's commands; fince theſe appeared at
beſt only ſecondary and ſubſervient to the other.
However, for this medley of humour he made a
ſhift to find a very plauſible name, honouring it
with the title of zeal; which is perhaps the moſt
ſignificant word that hath been ever yet produced
in any language; as, I think, I have fully proved
in my excellent analytical diſcourſe upon that ſub-
ject; wherein I have deduced a hiſtori-theo-phyſi-lo-
gical account of zeal, ſhewing how it firſt proceed-
ed from a notion into a word, and from thence, in
candid than thoſe contained in the following note, for Martin is
treated with a much leſs degree of ſarcaſm than the other two bro-
thers. --The church of England can ſcarce be angry at ſuch a favour-
able account of Luthër; eſpecially as we have ſince reformed from
Luther himſelf, and, ſo far as our judgements can teach us, have re-
hored our habits ſtill nearer to the original faihion, which they bere
at the perfection of the teſtament. Orrery.
+ In the character of Jack a ſet of people were alarmed, who are,
eaſily offended, and who can ſcarce bear the cheerſuln ſs of a ſmile.
In their didionary, wit is only another name for wickedneſs; and
the purer or more excellent the wit, the greater and more impious
the abomination. However wile, therefore, the difference of Peter
and Jack might have been in tathioning their coais, the two brothers
moſt fincerely agreed in their hatred of an adverſary fo powerful as
this anonymous author. They ſpared no unmannerly reflections up,
on his character. They had recourſe to every kind of abuſe that
could reach him. And ſometimes it was the work of Swift and his
companions : ſometimes not a ſyllable of it was his work; it was the
work of one of his uncle's fons, a clergyman: and ſometimes it was
the work of a perſon, who was to be nameleſs. Each of theſe ma.
licious conjectures reigned in its turn and it will be found, that
bold affertions, however, falſe, almoſt conftantly meet with ſucceſs;
a kind of triumph that would appear one of the ſevereſt inſtitutes of
fate, if time and truth did not foon obliterate all marks of the victo-
ry, Orrery.
Sect. 6. A TALE OF A TUB
109
a hot ſummer, ripened into a tangible ſubſtance,
This work, containing three large volumes in fo-
lio, I deſign very thortly to publiſh by the molern
way of ſubſcription; not doubting but the nobility
and gentry of the land will give me all poſſible en-
couragement, having had already ſuch a taſte of
what I am able to perform.
I record, therefore, that brother Jack, brim-full
of this miraculous compound, reflecting with in-
dignation upon Peter's tyranny, and farther pro-
voked by the deſpondency of Martin, prefaced his
reſolutions to this purpoſe. " What,” ſaid he,
a rogue that locked up his drink, turned away
our wives, cheated us of our fortunes, palmed
« his damned cruſts upon us for inutton, and at
" laſt kicked us out of doors ; muſt we be in his
" faſhions, with a pox! a raſcal, beſides, that all
" the ſtreet cries out againſt.” Having thus kind.
led and inflamed himſelf as high as poſſible, and
by confequence in a delicate temper for beginning
a reformation, he fet about the work immediately,
and in three minutes made more diſpatch than
Martin had done in as many hours. For, courte-
ous reader, you are given to underſtand, that zeal
is never ſo highly obliged, as when you ſet it a teur-
ing; and Jack, who doted on that quality in him-
felf, allowed it at this time its full ſwing. Thus it
happened, that ſtripping down a parcel of gold lace
a little too haſtily, he rent the main body of his coat
from top to bottom; and whereas his talent was
not of the happieſt in taking up a pitch, he knew
no better way, than to darn it again with pack-
thread and a ſkewer. But the matter was yet infi-
nitely worſe (I record it with tears) when he pro-
ceeded to the embroidery : for, being clumſy by na-
ture, and of temper impatient; withal, beholding
millions of ſtitches that required the niceft hand,
and fedaieft conſtitution, to extricate; in a great
rage he tore off the whole piece, cloth and all, and
VOL.I.
K
flung
.
ز
110
A TALE OF A TUB.
flung it into the kennel, and furiouſly thus conti-
nued his career : " Ah, good brother Martin,"
faid he,“ do as I do, for the love of God; ſtrip,
“ tear, pull, rend, flay off all, that we may appear
“ as unlike the rogue Peter as it is poſſible. I
" would not, for an huxdred pounds, carry the
“ leaſt mark about me, that might give occaſion
" to the neighbours, of ſuſpecting that I was re-
“ lated to ſuch a raſcal.” But Martin, who at
this time happened to be extremely flegmatic
and ſedate, “ begged his brother, of all love,
not to damage his coat by any means ; for he
never would
get
ſuch another: deſired him to
" conſider, that it was not their buſineſs to form
" their actions by any reflection upon Peter, but
" by obſerving the rules preſcribed in their fa-
" ther's will: that he ſhould remember, Peter was
“ ſtill their brother, whatever faults or injuries he
“ had committed ; and therefore they thould by all
means avoid fuch a thought, as that of taking
" meaſures for good and evil, from no other rule
" than of oppoſition to him : that it was true, the
“ teſtament of their good father was very exact in
“ what related to the wearing of their coats; yet
“ was it no leſs penal and ſtrict in preſcribing a-
greement, and friendſhip, and affection between
" them; and therefore, if ſtraining a point were
" at all difpenfable, it would certainly be fo, rather
“ to the advance of unity, than increaſe of contra-
16 diction.”
Martin had ſtill proceeded as gravely as he began;
and doubtleſs would have delivered an adinirable
lecture of morality, which might have exceedingly
contributed to my reader's repoſe, both of body and
mind, the true ultimate end of ethics; but Jack
was already gone a flight-ſhot beyond his patience.
And as, in fcholaftic diſputes, nothing ſerves to
rouſe the fpleen of him that oppoſes, ſo much as a
kind of pedantic affected calinneſs in the reſpondent;
difputants
Sect. 6. A TALE OF A TUB.
III
difputants being for the moſt part like unequal ſcales,
where the gravity of one ſide advances the lightneſs
of the other, and cauſes it to fly up, and kick the
beain: ſo it happened here, that the weight of
Martin's arguments exalted Jack's levity, and made
him fly out and ſpurn againſt his brother's mode-
ration. In ſhort, Martin's patience put Jack in a
rage. But that which moſt aflicted him, was, to
obſerve his brother's coat ſo well reduced into the
ſtate of innocence; while his own was either
wholly rent to his fhirt; or thoſe places which had
eſcaped his cruel clutches, were ſtill in Peter's live-
ry: ſo that he looked like a drunken beau, half
rifled by bullies; or like a freſh tenant of Newgate,
when he has refuſed the payment of garniſ; or
like a diſcovered foop-liſter, left to the mercy of
Exchange women *; or like a bawd in her old velvet
petticoat, reſigned into the feculur hands of the
mobile. Like any, or like all of theſe, a medley of
Tags and lace, and rents and fringes, unfortunate
Jack did now appear. He would have been ex-
tremely glad to ſee his coat in the condition of
Martin's, but infinitely gladder to find that of
Martin in the fame predicament with his. Howe-
ver, ſince neither of theſe was likely 10 come to
paſs, he thought fit to lend the whole buſineſs ano-
ther turn, and to dreſs up neceflity into a virtue.
Therefore, after as many of the fox's arguments +
as he could muſter up, for bringing Martin to rea-
* The galleries over the piazzas in the Royal Exchange were for-
merly filled with ſhops, kept chiefly by women.
The fame uſe was
made of a building called the New Exchange in the Strend. This
ecifice has been pulled down; the ſhopkeepers have removed from
the Royal Exchange into Cornni), and the adjacent ftreets; and there
are now no remains of Exchange women, but in Exeter 'change, and
they are no longer dezmed the firſt minifters of faſhion.
+ The fox in the fable, who having been caught in a trap, and
loft his tail, uſed many arguments to perſuade the reſt to cut off iheirs,
that the fingularity of his deformity might not expoſe him to deri-
Gan,
K2
fon,
:
II2
A TALE OF A TUB.
fin, as he called it, or, as he meant it, into his
own ragged, bobtailed condition; and obſerving he
faid all to little purpoſe; what, alas ! was left for
the forlorn Jack to do, but, after a million of ſcur-
rilities againſt his brother, to run mad with ſpleen,
and fpite, and contradiction? 'To be fhort, here
begun a mortal breach between theſe two. Jack
wert immediately to new lodgings, and in a few days
it was for certain reported, that he had run out of
his wits. In a ſhort time after he appeared abroad,
and confirmed the report, by falling into the oddeft
whimties that ever a fick brain conceived.
And now the little boys in the ſtreets began to
falute him with feveral names. Sometimes they
would call him Jack the Bald+; ſometimes, Jack
with a lantern 1; fometimes, Dutch Jack l; fome-
times French Hugh **; fometimes, Tom the Beg-
gartt; and fometimes, Knocking Fack of the North 11.
And it was under one, or ſome, or all of theſe ap-
pellations, which I leave the learned reader to de
termine, that he hath given riſe to the moſt illuf
trious and epidemic fect of Æolifts, who, with ho-
nourable commemoration, do ftill acknowledge the
renowned JACK for their author and founder,
Of whoſe original, as well as principles, I am now
advancing to gratify the world with a very particu.
Iar account ;
----Melico contingens cunéta Icpore.
+ That is, Calvin, from caluus, bald.
I All thoſe who pretend to inward light.
!! Jack of Leyden, who gave riſe to the Anabaptiſts,
** The Hugonots.
++ The Gucules, by which name fome Proteſtants in Flanders
were called.
11 Jobo Kaox, the reformer of Scotland.
SECT.
..
Sect. 7. A digreffion in praiſe of digreſſions.
113
veyou
TOPS*
S E CT. VII.
A digreſion in praiſe of digreffions.
I
Have fometimes heard of an Iliad in a nut-bell;
but it hath been my fortune to have much often-
er ſeen a nut Abell in an Iliad. There is no doubt
that human life has received moſt wonderful ad-
vantages from both ; but to which of the two the
world is chiefly indebted, I ſhall leave among the
curious, as a problem worthy of their utinoſt en.
quiry. For the invention of the latter, I think
the commonwealth of learning is chiefly obliged to
the great modern improvement of digreſions: the
late refiements in knowledge running parallel to
thoſe of diet in our nation, which, among men
of a judicious taſte, are dreſſed up in various com-
pounds, conſiſting in ſoups and alio's, fricaſees and
ragouts.
It is true, there is a ſort of moroſe, detracting,
ill-bred people, who pretend utterly to difreliſh thefe
polite innovations, And as to the fimilitude from
diet, they allow the parallel ; but are ſo bold to
pronounce the example itſelf, a corruption and de-
generacy of taſte. They tell us, that the faſhion
of jumbling fifty things together in a diſh, was at
firſt introduced in compliance to a depraved and de-
bauched appetite, as well as to a crazy conſtitution :
and to ſee a man hunting through an olio after the
head and brains of a gooſe; a widgeon, or a wiodcock,
is a ſign he wants a ftomach and digeſtion for more
fubftantial victuals. Farther, they affirm, that di-
greſions in a book are like foreign troops in a ſtate,
which argue the nation to want a beart and hands
K 3
of
114
A TALE OF A TUB.
of its own; and often either ſubdue the natives, or
drive them into the moſt unfruitful corners.
But, after all that can be objected by theſe ſuper-
cilious cenfors, it is manifeft, the ſociety of writers
would quickly be reduced to a very inconſiderable
number, if men were put upon making books, with
the fatal confinement of delivering nothing beyond
what is to the purpoſe. It is acknowledged, that
were the caſe the ſame among us, as with the Greeks
and Romans, when learning was in its cradle, to be
reared, and fed, and clothed by invention; it would
be an eaſy taſk to fill up volumes upon particularoc-
cafions, without farther expatiating from the fub-
jeet, th:in by moderate excurſions, helping to ad-
vance or clear the main deſign. But with knowledge
it has fared as with a numerous army, encamped in
a fruitful country; which for a few days maintains
itfelf by the product of the foil it is on; till, pro-
viſions being ſpent, they are fent to forage many a
mile, among friends or enemies, it matters not.
Mean while, the neighbouring fields, trampled and
beaten down, become barren and dry, affording
no fuítenance but clouds of duſt.
The whole courſe of things being thus entirely
changed between us and the ancients, and the mo-
derns wiſely ſenſible of it; we of this age have dif-
covered a ſhorter, and more prudent method, to
become fsholars and wits, without the fatigue of
reading or of thinking. The moſt accompliſhed
way of uſing books at prefent, is twofold: either,
firit, to ſerve them as ſome men do lords, learn their
titles exactly, and then brag of their acquaintance;
or, fecondly, which is indeed the choicer, the pro-
founder, and policer method, to get a thorough
infight into the index, by which the whole book is
governed and turned, like fiſhes by the tail. For
to enter the palace of learning at the great gate,
requires an expence of time and forms; therefore
men of much hafte and little ceremony are content
JU
to
Sect. 7. A digrefion in praiſe of digreffions. IIS
to get in by the back-door. For the arts are all in
a flying march, and therefore more eaſily fubdued
by attacking them in the rear. Thus phyficians dif-
cover the ſtate of the whole body, by conſulting
only what comes from behind. Thus men catch
knowledge by throwing their wit on the poſteriors
of a book, as boys do fparrows with flinging falt
upon their tails. Thus human life is beſt under-
ſtood by the wiſe man's rule of regarding the end.
Thus are the ſciences found, like Hercules's oxen,
by tracing them backwards. Thus are old ſciences
unravelled like old ſtockings, by beginning at the
foot.
Beſides all this, the army of the ſciences hath
been of late, with a world of martial diſcipline,
drawn into its cloſe order, ſo that a view, or a muf-
ter may be taken of it with abundance of expedi-
tion. For this great bleſſing we are wholly indebt-
ed to ſyſtems and abſtracts, in which the modern fa-
thers of learning, like prudent ofurers, ſpent their
ſweat for the eaſe of us their children, For labour
is the feed of idleneſs, and it is the peculiar happi.
neſs of our noble age to gather the fruit,
Now, the method of growing wife, learned, and
ſublime, having become fo regular an affair, and ſo
eſtabliſhed in all its forms; the number of writers
muſt needs have increaſed accordingly, and to a
pitch that has made it of abſolute neceffity for them
to interfere continually with each other. Beſides,
it is reckoned, that there is not, at this preſent, a
fufficient quantity of new matter left in nature to
furnith and adorn any one particular ſubject to the
extent of a volume. This I am told by a very ſkil-
ful compuier, who hath given a full demonftration
of it from rules of arithmetic.
This, perhaps, may be objected againft by thoſe
who maintain the infinity of matter, and therefore
will not allow that any ſpecies of it can be exhanſt-
ed. For anſwer to which, let us examine the no-
bleft
116 A TALE OF A TUB.
bleſt branch of modern wit or invention, planted
and cultivated by the preſent age, and which of all
others, hath borne the moſt and the faireft fruit.
For tho' ſome remains of it were left us by the an-
cients, yet have not any of thoſe, as I remember,
been tranſlated, or compiled into ſyſtems for modern
uſe. Therefore we may affirm, to our own ho-
nour, that it hath, in ſome fort, been both invent-
ed and brought to a perfection by the ſame hands.
What I mean is, that highly-celebrated talent a-
mong the modern wits, of deducing ſimilitudes, al-
luſions, and applications, very ſurpriſing, agreea-
ble, and appofite, from the pudenda of either fex,
together with their proper uſes. And truly, having
obſerved how little invention bears any vogue, be-
ſides what is derived into theſe channels, I have
ſometimes had a thought, that the happy genius of
our age and country was prophetically held forth
by that ancient typical deſcription of the Indian
pygmies ; whoſe ftature did not exceed above two foot:
fed quorum pudenda irala, et ad talos uſque pertingen-
tia *. Now, I have been very curious to inſpect the
late productions, wherein the beauties of this kind
have moſt prominently appeared. And although
this vein hath bled fo freely, and all endeavours
have been uſed in the power of human breath to
dilate, extend, and keep it opens like the Scythi-
ans, who had a cuſtom, and an inſtrument, to blow up
the privities of their mares, that they might yield the
more milk t; yet I am under an apprehenſion, it is
near growing dry, and paſt all recovery ; and that
either fome new fonde of wit ſhould, if poſſible, be
provided, or elſe that we muſt e'en be content
with repetition here, as well as upon all other oc-
caſions.
This will ſtand as an inconteftible argument, that
Ctefiæ fragm. apud Photium,
+ Herodot. l. 4.
our
Sect. n. A digreſſion in praiſe of digrefions. 117
our modern wits are not to reckon upon the infinity
of matter, for a conſtant ſupply. What remains
therefore, but that our laſt recourſe muſt be had to
large indexes, and little compendiums ? Quotations
muſt be plentifully gathered, and booked in alpha-
bet. To this end, though authors need be little
conſulted, yet critics, and comment tors, and lexi-
cons, carefully muſt. But above all, thoſe judici-
ous collectors of bright parts, and frowers, and 96-
fervanda's, are to be nicely dwelt on, by ſome called
the fives and boulters of learning; though it is left
undetermined, whether they dealt in pearls or meal;
and conſequently, whether we are more to value
that which paſſed through, or what ſtaid behind.
By theſe methods, in a few weeks, there ſtarts up
many a writer, capable of managing the profound
eſt, and moſt univerſal ſubjects. For what though
his head be empty, provided his common place book
be full? And if you will bate him but the circum-
ſtances of method, and ſtyle, and grammur, and inven-
tion; allow him but the common privileges of tran-
fcribing from others, and digrefling from himſelf,
as often as he ſhall fee occafion; he will defire no
more ingredients towards fitting up a treatiſe, that
fhall make a very comely figure on a bookſeller's
fhelf, there to be preſerved neat and clean for a
long eternity, adorned with the heraldry of its title
fairly inſcribed on a label ; never to be thumbed
or greaſed by ſtudents, nor bound to everlaſting
chains of darkneſs in a library; but when the ful-
neſs of time is come, ſhall happily undergo the trial
of purgatory, in order to afcend the ſky,
Without theſe allowances, how is it poſſible we
modern wits thould ever have an opportunity to in-
troduce our collections, liſted under ſo many thou-
fand heads of a different nature? for want of which
the learned world would be deprived of infinite de-
light, as well as inſtruction, and we ourſelves bu-
ried
118 A TALE OF A TUB.
ried beyond redreſs in an inglorious and undiſtin-
guiſhed oblivion.
From ſuch elements as theſe, I am alive to be-
hold the day, wherein the corporation of authors
can outvie all its brethren in the guild: A happineſs
derived to us, with a great many others, from our
Scythian anceſtors; among whom the number of
pens was ſo infinite, that the Grecian eloquence had
no other way of expreſſing it, than by ſaying, “ that
“ in the regions far to the north, it was hardly pof-
“ ſible for a man to travel, the very air was ſo re-
plete with feathers*
The neceſſity of this digreſſion will eaſily excufe
the length; and I have choſen for it as proper a
place as I could readily find. If the judicious read-
er can afligo a fitter, I do here impower him to re-
move it into any other corner he pleaſes. And ſo
I return, with great alacrity, to purſue a more im-
portant concern.
XARA*
SECT.
VIII.
A TALE OF A TUB.
TH
HE learned Æoliftst maintain the original cauſe
of all things to be wind, from which principle
this whole univerfe was at firſt produced, and into
which it muſt at laſt be refolved, that the ſame
breath which had kindled and blew up the flame of
nature, ſhould one day blow it out.
Quod procul a hobis flectat fortuna gubernans.
This is what the adepti underſtand by their anima
. Herodot, h 4.
* All pretenders to inſpiration whatſoever.
mundi ;
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TUB.
119
mundi ; that is to ſay, the ſpirit, or breath, or wind
of the world. For examine the whole ſyſtem by
the particulars of nature, and you will find it not
to be diſputed. For whether you pleaſe to call the
forma informans of man, by the name of ſpiritus,
animus, offiatus, or anima; what are all thefe but
ſeveral appellations for wind? which is the ruling
element in every compound, and into which they
all refolve upon their corruption. Farther, what
is life itfelf, but, as it is commonly called, the breath
of our noſtrils ? Whence it is very juftly obſerved
by naturaliſts, that wind ſtill continues of great e-
molument in certain myſterics not to be named, gi-
ving occaſion for thoſe happy epithets of turgidus,
and inflatus, applied either to the emittent or reci-
pient organs.
By what I have gathered out of ancient records,
I find the compaſs of their doctrine took in two and
thirty points, wherein it would be tedious to be very
particular. However, a few of their moſt import-
ant precepts, deducible from it, are by no means to
be omitted; among which the following maxim was
of much weight, That ſince wind had the maſter-
ſhare, as well as operation in every compound, by
confequence, thoſe beings muſt be of chief excel-
lence, wherein that primordium appears moſt pro-
minently to abound; and therefore man is in high-
eft perfection of all created things, as having, by
the great bounty of philoſophers, been endued with
three diſtinct animos or winds, to which the fage
Æoliſts, with much liberality, have added a fourth
of equal neceſſity, as well as ornament, with the
other thrče; by this quartum principium, taking in
our four corners of the world, which gave occa-
fion to that renowned cabalift, Bombaſtus, of pla-
This is one of the names of Paracelſus. He was called Chrifto-
phorus Theophraſtus Paracelſus Boniballus,
cing
U 20
A TALE OF A TUB.
"
cing the body of man in due poſition to the four
cardinal points.
In conſequence of this, their next principle was,
That man brings with him into the world a peculiar
portion or grain of wind, which may be called a
quinta eſentia, extracted from the other four, This
quinteſence is of a catholic uſe upon all emergencies
of lifc, is improvable into all arts and ſciences, and
may be wonderfully refined, as well as enlarged, by
certain methods in education. This, when blown
up to its perfection, ought not to be covetouſly
hoarded up, ſtifled, or hid under a buſhel, but
freely communicated to mankind. Upon theſe rea-
fons, and others of equal weight, the wife Æolifts
affim the gift of BELCHING to be the nobleſt act
of a rational creature. To cultivate which art,
and render it inore ſerviceable to mankind, they
made uſe of ſeveral methods. At certain ſeaſons
of the year, you might behold the prieſts among
them in vaſt numbers, with their months gaping wide
enough ogainſt a ſtorm*. At other times were to be
ſeen, ſeveral hundreds linked together in a circular
chain, with every man a pair of bellows applied to
his neighbour's breech, by which they blew up each
other to the ſhape and ſize of a tun; and for that
reaſon, with great propriety of ſpeech, did uſually
call their bodies their veſſels. When, by theſe and
the like performances, they were grown ſufficiently
.replete, they would immediately depart, and diſem-
bogue, for the public good, a plentiful ſhare of
their acquirements into their diſciples chaps. For
we muſt here obſerve, that all learning was eſteem-
ed among them to be compounded from the fame
principle: Becauſe, firſt, it is generally affirmed,
or confeſſed, thát learning puffeth men up; and,
ſecondly, they proved it by the following ſyllogiſm:
This is meant of thoſe feditious preachers who blow UP
the
feeds of rebellion, &c.
Words
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TUB.
121
Words are but wind; and learning is nothing but words;
ergo, learning is nothing but wind. For this reafon,
the philoſophers among them did, in their ſchools,
deliver to their pupils, all their doctrines and opi-
nions by cruftation, wherein they had acquired a
wonderful cloquence, and of incredible variety.
But the great characteriſtic by which their chicf
ſages were beſt diſtinguiſhed, was a certain poſition
of countenance, which gave undoubted intelligence
to what degree or proportion the ſpirit agitated the
inward maſs. For, after certain gripings, the wind
and vapours ifſuing forth; having firſt, by their
turbulence and convulſions within, cauſed an earth-
quake in man's little world; diſtorted the mouth,
bloated the cheeks, and gave the eyes a terrible
kind of relievo. At which junctures, all their
belches were received for ſacred, the fourer the ber-
ter, and ſwallowed with infinite conſolation by their
meagre devotees.
And to render theſe yet more
complete ; becauſe the breath of man's life is in his
noſtrils, therefore the choiceſt, moſt edifying, and
moſt enlivening belches were very wiſely conveyed
through that vehicle, to give them a tincture as they
paffed.
Their gods were the four winds, whom they
worſhipped, as the ſpirits that pervade and enliven
the univerſe, and as thoſe from whom alone all in-
Spiration can properly be ſaid to proceed. Howe-
ver, the chief of theſe, to whom they performed
the adoration of latria *, was the almigbıy North;
an ancient deity, whom the inhabitants of Megalo-
polis in Greece had likewiſe in the higheſt reve-
rence : Omnium dearum Boream maxime celebrant t.
This god, though endued with ubiquity was yet
ſuppoſed by the profounder Æoliſts, to poffefs one
peculiar habitation, or (to ſpeak in form) a cælum
• Latria is that worſhip which is paid only to the Supreme Delly.
+ Paufan. I, &
VOL.I.
L
empy
122
A TALE OF A TUB.
empyraum, wherein he was more intimately prefent.
This was ſituated in a certain region, well known to
the ancient Greeks, by them called Exolsa, or, the
land of darkneſs. And although many controverſies
have ariſen upon that matter; yet ſo much is undiſ-
puted, that, from a region of the like denomination,
the moft refined Æoliſts have borrowed their ori-
ginal ; from whence, in every age, the zealous a-
mong their prieſthood have brought over their
choiceſt inſpiration; fetching it, with their own
hands, from the fountain-head, in certain bladders,
and diſploding it among the ſectaries in all nations;
who did, and do, and ever will, daily gafp and
pant after it.
Now, their myteries and ritcs were performed in
this manner. It is well known among the learned,
that the virtuofos of former ages had a contrivance
for carrying and preſerving winds in calks or bar-
Iels, which was of great affiſtance upon long fea-
voyages; and the loſs of ſo uſeful an art at preſent
is very much to be lamented, although, I know not
how, with great negligence omitted by Pancirollus*
It was an invention afcribed to Æolus himſelf, from
whom this ſect is denominated ; and who, in ho-
nour of their founder's memory, have to this day
preferred great numbers of thoſe barrels, whereof
they fix one in each of their temples, firſt beating
out the top. Into this barrel, upon folemn days,
the prieſt anters; where, having before duly pre-
pared himſelf, by the methods already deſcribed,
a fecret funnel is alſo conveyed from his poſteriors
to the bottom of the barrel, which admits new
fupplies of inſpiration from a northern chink or
cranny. Whereupon you behold him fwell imme-
diately to the ſhape and ſize of his veſel. In this
pofture, he diſembogues whole tempefts upon his
An author who wiit De artibus perdi: is, '&c. of arts loft, and
of arts invented,
au litcry,
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TUB. 123
auditory, as the ſpirit from beneath gives him ut-
terance; which, iffuing ex adytis et penetralibus, is
not performed without much pain and gripings.
And the wird in breaking forth, deals with his face
as it does with that of the ſea ; firſt blackening, then
wrinkling, and at laſt burſting it into a foam t. It is
in this guiſe the facred Æolift delivers his oracular
belches to his panting diſciples; of whom ſome are
greedily gaping after the fanctified breath? others
are all the while hymning out the praiſes of the
winds; and, gently wafted to and fro by their own
humming, do thus repreſent the ſoft breezes of
their deities appeaſed.
It is from this cuſtom of the prieſts, that ſome
authors maintain thcfe Æoliſts to have been very
ancient in the world; becaufe the delivery of their
myſteries, which I have juſt now mentioned, appears,
exactly the ſame with that of other ancient oracles,
whofe inſpirations were owing to certain fubtera-
neous effluviums of wind, delivered with the ſame
pain to the prieſt, and much about the fame
influence on the people. It is true, indeed, that
theſe were frequently managed and directed by fe-
male officers, whoſe organs were underſtood to be
better diſpofed for the admiſſion of thoſe oracular
gufts, as entering and pafling up through a recepta-
ele of greater capacity, and cauſing alſo a pruriency
by the way, ſuch as, with due management, hath
been refined from carnal into a ſpiritual ecſtaſy.
And, to ſtrengthen this profound conjecture, it is
farther infifted, that this cuſtom of female priefts*
is kept up ſtill in certain refined colleges of our n:0-
dern Æoliſts, who are agreed to receive their infpi-
ration, derived through the receptacle aforeſaid,
like their anceſtors, the Sibyls.
+ This is an exact deſcription of the changes made in the face by
enthufiaftic preachers.
Quakers, who ſuffer their women to preach and pray.
And
L2
124
A TALE OF A TUB.
And whereas the mind of man, when he gives
the fpur and bridle to his thoughts, doth never ſtop,
but naturally fallies out into both extremes of high
and low, of good and evil; his firſt flight of fancy
commonly tranſports him to ideas of what is most
perfect, finiſhed, and exalted; till having ſoared out
of his own reach and fight, not well perceiving how
near the frontiers of height and depth border upon
each other, with the ſame courſe and wing, he falls
down plum into the loweſt bottom of things; like
one who travels the eaſt into the weft; or like a
itrait hine drawn by its own length into a circle.
Whether a tincture of inalice in our natures inakes
us fond of furniſhing every bright idea with its re-
verſe; or whether reaſon, reflecting upon the fum
of things, can, like the fun, ferve only to enlight-
en one half of the globe, leaving the other half by
neceſſity under ſhade and darkneſs; or whether
fancy, flying up to the imagination of what is high-
eft and beſt, becomes over-ſhort, and ſpent, and
weary, and ſuddenly falls, like a dead bird of
para-
diſe, to the ground: or whether, after all theſe me-
taphyſical conjectures, I have not entirely miſſed the
true reaſon; the propoſition, however, which hath
ftood me in ſo much circumſtance, is altogether
true, That, as the moft uncivilized parts of man-
kind have fome way or other climbed up into the
conception of a god, or fupreme power, ſo they
have feldom forgot to provide their fears with cer-
tuin ghaſtly notions, which, inſtead of better, have
ferved them pretty tolerably for a devil. And this
proceeding feems to be natural enough: for it is
with men, whoſe imaginations are lifted up very
high, after the fame rate as with thoſe whoſe bodies
are fo; that as they are delighted with the advan-
tage of a nearer contemplation upwards, ſo they are
equally terrified with the difmal proſpect of the pre-
cipice below. Thus, in the choice of a devil, it
hath been the uſual method of mankind, to fingle
put
Sect. 8. A TALE OF A TUB.
123
out ſome being, either in actor in viſion, which
was in moſt antipathy to the god they had framed.
Thus alſo the feet of Æoliſts pofleffed themſelves
with a dread, and horror, and hatred of two ma-
lignant natures, betwixt whoin and the deities they
adored, perpetual enmity was eſtablithed. The
firft of thefe was the camelion *, ſworn foe to inſpi.
ration, who, in fcorn, devoured large influences of
their god, without refunding the ſmalleſt blaſt by
eructation. The other was a huge terrible monſter,
called Moulin à vent, who, with four ſtrong arms,
waged eternal battle with all their divinities, dex-
trouſly turning to avoid their blows, and repay
them with intereſt.
Thus furniſhed, and ſet out with gods, as well as
devils, was the renowned fect of olifts; which
makes at this day fo illuſtrious a figure in the world,
and whereof that polite nation of Laplanders are,
beyond all doubt, a moſt authentic branch: of
whoin I therefore cannot,, without injuſtice, here
omit to make honourable mention ; ſince they ap-
pear to be ſo cloſely allied in point of intereſt, as
well as inclinations, with their brother Eolifts a-
mong us, as not only to buy their winds by whole-
fale from the fume merchants, but alſo to retail thein
after the fame rate and method, and to cuſtomers
much alike.
Now, whether the ſyſtem here delivered was
wholly compiled by Jack; or, as fome writers be-
lieve, rather copied from the original at Delphos,
with certain additions and emendations ſuited to the
times and circumſtances ; I ſhall not abſolutely de-
termine. This I may affirm, that Jack gave it, at
leaſt, a new turn, and formed it into the ſame dreſs
and model as it lies deduced by me..
I do not well underſtand what the author aims at here, any
more than by the terrible monfter mentioned in the following lines,
called Moulin à vent, which is the French name for a windmill.
L3
I have
126 A TALE OF A TUB.
I have long fought after this opportunity of do-
ing juſtice to a fociety of men, for whom I have a
peculiar honour; and whoſe opinions, as well as
practices, have been extremely miſrepreſented and
traduced by the malice or ignorance of their adver-
faries. For I think it one of the greateſt and beſt
of human actions, to remove prejudices, and place
things in their trueſt and faireſt light; which I
therefore boldly undertake, without any regards of
my own, beſide the confcience, the honour, and
the thanks.
XFXXX+BX8X8 8XX BX
SECT. IX.
A digreffion concerning the original, the uſe, and im-
provement of madneſs in a commonwealth.
NOR fall it any wife detract from the juſt repu-
tation of this famous fect, that its riſe and in.
ftitution are owing to ſuch an author as I have de-
fcribed Jack to be; a perfon whofe intellectuals
were overturned, and his brain ſhaken out of its
natural poſition; which we commonly ſuppoſe to
be a diſtemper, and call by the name of madneſs, or
phrenzy. For if we take a ſurvey of the greateſt
actions that have been performed in the world un-
der the influence of fingle men; which are,
" eſtabliſhment of new empires by conqueſt; the
" advance and progreſs of new ſchemes in philo-
fophy; and the contriving, as well as the propa-
gating of new religions;" we ſhall find the au-
thors of them all to have been perſons, whoſe na-
tural reaſon had admitted great revolutions from
their diet, their education, the prevalency of fome
certain temper, together with the particular influ
" the
елсе
Sect. 9.
A digreffion concerning madneſs. 127
ence of air and climate. Beſides, there is ſome-
thing individual in human minds, that eaſily kindles
at the accidental approach and colliſion of certain
circumſtances, which, though of paltry and mean
appagance, do often Aame out into the greateſt e-
mergencies of life. For great turns are not always
given by ſtrong hands, but by lucky adaption, and
at proper ſeaſons, And it is of no import, where
the fire was kindled, if the vapour has once got up
into the brain. For the upper region of man is
furniſhed like the middle region of the air; the ma-
terials are formed from cauſes of the wildeſt differ.
ence, yet produce at laſt the ſame ſubſtance and
effect. Mifts ariſe from the earth, ſteams from
dunghills, exhalations from the fea, and ſmoke
from fire; yet all clouds are the ſame in compofi-
tion, as well as conſequences; and the fumes iffu-
ing from a Jakes will furnith as comely and uſeful a
vapour, as incenſe from an altar. Thus far, I
ſuppoſe, will eaſily be granted me; and then it will
follow, that as the face of nature never produces
rain, but when it is overcaſt and diſturbed; ſo hu-
man underſtanding, feated in the brain, muſt be
troubled and overſpread by vapours, afcending
from the lower faculties to water the invention,
and render it fruitful. Now, although theſe va-
pours (as it hath been already faid) are of as various
orignal, as chofe of the ſkies; yet the crops they
produce, differ both in kind and degree, merely
according to the ſoil. I will produce two inſtances
to prove and explain what I am now advancing.
A certain great prince raiſed a mighty army, fill-
ed his coffers with infinite treaſures, provided an
invincible fleet; and all this, without giving the
Jeaſt part of his deſign to his greateſt minifters or
his neareſt favourites *. Immediately the whole
world was alarmed; the neighbouring crowns in
Mr.
This was Harry the Great of France.
trembling
128 A TALE OF A TUB.
be a
trembling expectations, towards what point the
ftorm would burſt; the ſmall politicians every where
forming profound conjectures. Some believed, he
had laid a ſcheme for univerſal monarchy; others,
after much inſight, determined the matter
project for pulling down the Pope, and ſetting up
the Reformed religion, which had once been his
own, Some again, of a deeper fagacity, fent him
into Afia, to ſubdue the Turk, and recover Pale-
ftine. In the midſt of all theſe projects and prepa-
rations, a certain ſtate-furgeon , gathering the na-
ture of the difeafc by thefe fyinptoms, attempted
the cure ; at one blow performed the operation,
broke the bag, and out flew the vapour. Nor did
any thing want to render it a complete remedy, on-
ły that the prince unfortunately happened to die in
the performance. Now, is the reader exceeding
curious to learn, from whence this vapour took its
file, which had ſo long fet the nations at a gaze!
ihat ſecret wheel, what hidden ſpring could put
into motion ſo wonderful an engine ? It was after-
wards diſcovered, that the movement of this whole
Machine had been directed by an abfent female,
#hoſe eyes had raiſed a protuberancy, and, before
emillion, ſhe was removed into an enemy's coun-
'fry. What ſhould an unhappy prince do in ſuch
ckliſh circumſtances as thefe? He tried, in vain,
"the poet's hever-failing receipt of corpora quæque:
for,
Idque petit corpus mens, undé eft faucia amore;. .
'Unde feritur, eo tendit, geſtitque coire. Lucr.
Having to no purpoſe uſed all peaceable endea-
hours, the collected part of the jemen, raifed and
'inflamed, became aduſt, converted to choler, turn-
"edhead upon the ſpinal duct, and afcended to the
+ Ravillac, who ſtabbed Henry the Great in his torch.
brain.
Sect. 9.
A digreſſion concerning madneſs. 129
brain. The very fame principle that influences a
bully to break the windows of a whore who has
jilted him, naturally ſtirs up a great prince to raiſe
mighty armies, and dream of nothing but fieges,
battles, and victories.
Cunnus, teterrimi beli
Caufa
*
The other inſtance is, what I have read ſome.
where in a very ancient author of a mighty king
who, for the ſpace of above thirty years, amuſed
himſelf to take and lofe towns ; beat armics, and
be beaten ; drive princes out of their dominions ;
fright children from their bread and butter; burn,
lay waſte, plunder, dragoon, maffacre ſubject and
ſtranger, friend and foe, male and female. It is
recorded, that the philoſophers of each country
were in grave diſpute upon cauſes natural, moral,
and political, to find out where they ſhould aſſign
an original ſolution of this phanome on. , At laſt
the vapour or ſpirit which animated the hero's
brain, being in perpetual circulation, ſeized upon
that region of the human body, fo renowned for
furniſhing the zibeta occidentalis t, and gathering
there into a tumour, left the reſt of the world for
that time in peace. Of fuch mighty confequence
it is, where thoſe exhalations fix; and of ſo little,
from whence they proceed.
The ſame ſpirits,
which, in their fuperior progreſs, would conquer
a kingdom, deſcending upon the anus, conclude in
a fiſtula
Let us next examine the great introducers of
* This is meant of the preſent French King, Lewis XIV.
+ Parcelſus, who was fun famous for chymiſtry, tried an experi.
ment upon human excrement, to make a perfume of it; which when
he had brought to perfection, he called zibe:a occidentalis, or weſtern
cive', the back parts of man (according to his diviſion mentioned by
the author, p. 120.) being thc welt.
new
::
A TALE OF A TUB.
130
new ſchemes in philoſophy, and fearch till we can
find from what faculty of the ſoul the diſpoſition a-
rifes in mortal man, of taking it into his head to
advance new fyftems, with ſuch an eager zeal, in
things agreed on all hands: impoſſible to be known;
from what feeds this difpofition ſprings, and to
what quality of human nature theſe grand innova-
tors have been indebted for their number of difci-
ples : becauſe it is plain, that ſeveral of the chief
anong them, both ancient and modern, were uſually
miſtaken by their adverſaries, and indeed by all,
except their own followers, to have been perſons
crazed, or out of their wits; having generally pro-
ceeded, in the common courſe of their words and
actions, by a method very different from the vul-
gar dictates of unrefined reaſon; agreeing, for the
moft part, in their ſeveral models, with their pre-
fent undoubted fucceffors in the academy of incdern
brdlam; (whoſe merits and principles I ſhall farther
examine in due place). Of this kind were Epicu-
rus, Diogenes, Apollonius, Lucretius, Paracelſus,
Des Cartes, and others; who, if they were now in
the world, tied faſt, and feparate from their fol-
lowers, would, in this our undiſtinguiſhing age,
in.
cur manifeſt danger of phlebotomy, and whips, and
chains, and dark chambers, and Araw. For what
man, in the natural ſtate or courfe of thinking, did
ever conceive it in his power to reduce the notions
of all mankind exactly to the fame length, and
breadth, and height of his own? Yet this is the
firſt humble and civil deſign of all innovators in the
empire of reaſon. Epicurus modeſtly hoped, that,
one time or other, a certain fortuitous concourſe of
all mens opinions, after perpetual juſtlings, the
ſharp with the fmooth, the light and the heavy, the
round and the ſquare, would, by certain clinamina,
unite in the notions of atoms and void, as theſe did
in the originals of all things. Carteſius reckoned
to fee, before he died, the fentiments of all philo-
ſophers,
Sect.9.
A digreſion concerning madneſs. 131
ſophers, like ſo many leffer ſtars in his romantic fyr-
tem, wrapped and drawn within his own vortex.
Now, I would gladly be informed, how it is pofli-
ble to account for ſuch imaginations as theſe in
particular men, without recourſe to my phenomenon
of vapours, afcending from the lower faculties to
overſhadow the brain, and there diſtilling into con-
ceptions, for which the narrowneſs of our mother-
tongue has not yet aſſigned any other name beſides
that of madneſs, or phrenzy. Let us therefore now
conjecture, how it comes to paſs, that none of
theſe great preſcribers do ever fail providing them-
felves and their notions with a number of implicit
diſciples. And, I think, the reaſon is eaſy to be
aſſigned: for there is a peculiar ſtring in the har-
mony of human underſtanding, which, in ſeveral
individuals, is exactly of the fame tuning. This if
you can dexterouſly ſcrew up to its right key, and
then ſtrike gently upon it; whenever you have the
good fortune to light among thoſe of the ſame
pitch, they will, by a ſecret neceſſary fympathy,
ftrike exactly at the ſame time. And in this one
circumſtance lies all the ſkill or luck of the matter.
for if you chance to jar the ſtring among thoſe
who are either above or below your own height;
inſtead of fubfcribing to your doctrine, they will
tie you faft, call you mad, and feed you with bread
and water. It is therefore a point of the niceft
conduet, to diſtinguish and adapt this noble talent
with reſpect to the differences of perſons and of
times. Cicero underſtood this very well, when
writing to a friend in England, with a caution, a-
mong other matters, to beware of being cheated by
our hackney-coachmen, (who, it ſeems, in thoſe days,
were as arrant rafcals as they are now), has thefe
Temarkable words: Eft quod gaudeas te in ifta loca
venije, ubi aliquid fapere viderere *. For, to ſpeak
• Epift, ad Fam. Trebario,
13.2
A TALE OF A TUB.
a bold truth, it is a fatal miſcarriage, ſo ill to order
affairs, as to paſs for a fool in one company, when
in another you might be treated as a philofopher.
Which I deſire fome certain gentlemen of my acquain-
tance to lay up in their hearts as a very ſeaſonable
innuendo.
This, indeed, was the fatal miſtake of that wor-
thy gentleman, my moſt ingenious friend, Mr.
Wotton; a perfon, in appearance, ordained for
great deſigns, as well as performances. Whether
you will conſider his notions or his looks, ſurely no
man ever advanced into the public with fitter quali-
fications of body and mind, for the propagation of
a new religion. 'Oh, had thoſe happy talents, mif-
applied to vain philoſophy, been turned into their
proper channels of dreams and viſions, where dif-
tortion of mind and countenance are of ſuch ſove-
reign uſe; the baſe detracting world would not
then have dared to report, that ſomething is amiſs,
that his brain hath undergone an unlucky ſhake ;
which even his brother moderniſts themſelves, like
ungrates, do whiſper ſo loud, that it reaches up to
the very garret I am now writing in.
Laſtly, Whoſoever pleaſes to look into the foun-
tains of enthuſiaſm, from whence, in all ages, have
eternally proceeded ſuch fattening ſtreams, will find
the ſpring-head to have been as troubled and muddy
as the current. Of ſuch great emolument is a tinc-
ture of this vapour, which the world calls madneſs,
that, without its help, the world would not only
be deprived of thoſe two great bleſſings, conguejts
and ſyſtems, but evin all mankind would unhappily
be reduced to the ſame belief in things inviſible.
Now, the former poſtulatum being held, that it is
of no import from what originals this vapour pro-
ceeds, but either in what angles it ſtrikes, and
fpreads over the underſtanding, or upon what ſpe-
cies of brain it aſcends ; it will be a very delicate
point, to cut the feather, and divide the feveral
reaſons
Scct.9.
A digrelhion concerning madneſs. 133
reaſons to a nice and curious reader, how this nu-
merical difference in the brain can produce effects
of to vaſt a difference from the ſame vapour, as to
be the fole point of individation between Alexander
the Great, Jack of Leyden, and Monſieur des Cartes.
The preſent argument is the moſt abſtracted that e-
ver i engaged in ; it ſtrains my faculties to their
higheſt ſtretch; and I deſire the reader to attend
with the utmoſt perpenfity; for I now proceed
10 unravel this knotty point.
There is in mankind a certain +
* * * *
*
*
Hic multa *
deſiderantur. *
And this I take to be a clear folution
of the matter.
Having tlıcrefore ſo narrowly paſſed through this
intricate difficulty, the reader will, I am ſure, a-
gree with me in the concluſion, that, if the moderns
inean by madneſs only a diſturbance or tranſpoſition
of the brain, by force of certain vapours iſſuing up
from the lower faculties, then has this madneſs been
the
parent of all thoſe mighty revolutions that have
happened in empire, in philosophyand in religion.
For the brain, in its natural poſition and ſtate of
ſerenity, diſpoſeth its owner to paſs his life in the
common forms, without any thoughts of fubduing
multitudes to his own power, his reaſons, or his vi-
fions; and the more he ſhapes his underſtanding by
the pattern of human learning, the leſs he is in-
clined to form parties after his particular notions ;
becauſe that inſtructs him in his private infirmities,
as well as in the ſtubborn ignorance of the people.
But when a man's fancy gets aſtride on his reaſon;
+ Here is another defect in the manuſcript; tut I think the a'l-
thor did wiſely, and that the matter, which thus trained his facul-
ties, was not worth a ſolution; and it were well if all metaphyſical
cobweb problems were no otherwiſe aniwered,
VOL.I.
M
when
134 A TALE OF A TUE.
when imagination is at cuffs with the fenfes; and
common underſtanding, as well as common ſenſe,
is kicked out of doors ; the firſt profelyte he makes
is himſelf; and when that is once compaired, th:
difficulty is not fo great in bringing over others; 1
Atrong deluſion always operating from without, as
vigorouſly as from within. For cant and viſion
are to the ear and the eye the ſame that tick.
ling is to the touch. Thoſe entertainments and
pleaſures we moſt value in life, are fuch as dupe and
play the wag with the fenfes. For if we take an
examination of what is generally underſtood by
happineſs, as it has reſpect either to the underſtand
ing or the ſenſes, we ſhall find all its properties and
adjuncts will herd under this ſhort definition, That
it is a perpetual pofleffion of being well deceived. And
firſt, with relation to the mind or underſtanding,
it is manifeſt, what mighty advantages fiction has
over truth : And the reaſon is juſt at our elbow;
becauſe imagination can build nobler ſcenes, and
produce more wonderful revolutions, than fortune
or nature will be at expence to furniſh. Nor is
mankind ſo much to blame in his choice thus de-
termining him, if we conſider that the debate mere-
ly lies betweeen things paſt, and things, conceived.
And ſo the queſtion is only this: Whether things
that have place in the imagination, may not as pro-
perly be ſaid to exiſt, as thoſe that are feated in the
memory? Which inay be juſtly held in the affirma-
tive; and very much to the advantage of the for-
mer; fince this is acknowledged to be the womb of
things, and the other allowed to be no more than
than the grave. Again, if we take this definition
of happineſs, and examine it with reference to the
fenfes, it will be acknowledged wonderfully adapt.
How fading and inſipid do all objects accoft us that
are not conveyed in the vehicle of deluſion! How
Ihrunk is every thing, as it appears in the glaſs of
nature ! ſo that if it were not for the affiftance of
artificial
A digreffion concerning madnejs. 135
artificial mediums, falfe lights, refracted angles, var-
niſh and rinſel, there would be a mighty level in
the felicity and enjoyments of mortal men. If this
were ſeriouſly conſidered by the world, as I
have a certain reaſon to fufpect it hardly will,
men would no longer reckon among their high
points of wiſdom, the art of expoſing wcak
fides, and publiſhing infirmities: An employ.
ment, in my opinion, neither better nor worſe
than that of unmaſking ; which, I think, has never
been allowed fair uſage, either in the world, or the
play-houſe.
In the proportion that credulity is a more peace-
ful poffeflion of the mind, than curioſity, lo far
preferablc is that wiſdom which converſes about
the ſurface, to that pretended philofophy which en-
ters into the depth of things, and then comes grave-
ly back with informations and diſcoveries, that in
the infide they are good for pothing. The two
ſenſes to which all objects fifft addreſs themſelves,
are the fight and the touch. Theſe never examine
farther than the colour, the ſhape, the ſize, and
whatever other qualities dwell, or are drawn by art
upon the outward of bodies, and then comes rear
ſon officiouſly with tools for cutting, and opening,
and mangling, and piercing, offering to demon-
ſtrate, that they are not of the fame confiftence
quite through. Now, I take all this to be the laſt
degree of perverting nature; one of whoſe eternal
laws it is, to put her beſt furniture forward. And
therefore, in order to ſave the charges of all ſuch
expenſive anatomy for the time to come, I do here
think fit to inforin the reader, that in ſuch con.
cluſions as theſe, reaſon is certainly in the right;
and that in moſt corporeal beings which have fallen
under my cogniſance, the cutſide hath been infinite-
ly preferable to the in. Whereof I have been far-
ther convinced from ſome late experiments. Laſt
Week I faw a woman flayed, and you will hardly
believe
M
136
A TALE OF A TUB.
believe how much it altered her perſon for the
worſe. Yeſterday I ordered the carcaſe of a beau
to be ſtripped in my preſence; when we were all a-
mazed to find ſo many unſuſpected faults under
one fuit of cloaths. Then I láid open his brain,
his heart, and his fpleen. But I plainly perceived
at every operation, that the farther we proceeded,
we found the defects increaſe upon us in number
and bulk. From all which I juftly formed this con-
clufion to myſelf, that whatever philoſopher or
projector can find out an art to folder and patch up
the flaws and imperfections of nature, will deſerve
much better of mankind, and teach us a more uſe-
ful ſcience, than that ſo much in prefent eſteem,
of widening and expoſing them, like liim who held
anatomy to be the ultimate end of phyfic. And he
whoſe fortunes and diſpoſitions have placed him in
a convenient ſtation to enjoy the fruits of this noble
art; he that can, with Epicurus, content his ideas
with the films and images, that fly off upon his
ſenſes from the ſuperficies of things ; fuch a man,
truly wiſe, creams off nature, leaving the four and
the dregs for philoſophy and reafon to lap up.
This is the ſublime and refined point of felicity, cal:
led the pollefion of being well deceived; the ferenc
peaceful ſtate of being a fool among knaves.
But to return to madneſs : It is certain, that ac-
cording to the fyftem I have above deduced, every
Species thereof proceeds from a redundancy of va-
pours; therefore, as ſome kinds of phrenzy give
double ſtrength to the finews, ſo there are of other
Species, which add vigour, and life, and ſpirit to
the brain. Now, it uſually happens, that theſe
active ſpirits, getting poffefſion of the brain, re-
ſemble thoſe that haunt other wafte and empty
dwellings, which, for want of buſineſs, either va-
niſh, and carry away a piece of the houfe, or elſe
ſtay at home, and Aing it all out of the windows.
By which are myſtically diſplayed the two principal
branches
Sect. 9
A digrelion concerning madneſs. 137
branches of madneſs, and which ſome philoſophers,
not conſidering fo well as I, have miſtaken to be
different in their cauſes; over-haſtily aſſigning the
firſt to deficiency, and the other to redundance.
I think it therefore manifeſt, from what I have
here advanced, that the main point of ſkill and ad-
dreſs is, to furnith employment for this rcdun-
dancy of vapour, and prudently to adjuſt the ſeaſon
of it; by which means it may certainly become of
cardinal and catholic emolument in a common-
wealth. Thus one man, chuſing a proper junclure,
leaps into a gulf, from thence proceeds a hero, and
is called the faver of his country: Another
atchieves the ſame enterprize; but, unluckily timing
it, has left the brand of maunofs fixed as a reproach
upon his memory. Upon ſo nice a diſtinction are
we taught to repeat the naine of Curtius with reve-
rence and love; that of Empedocles with hatred
and contempt. Thus alſo it is uſually conceived,
that the elder Brutus only perfonated the fool and
madman for the good of the public, . But this was
nothing elſe than a redundancy of the fame vapour
long mifappled, called by the Latins, ingenium par
negotiis *; or, to tranſlate it as nearly as I can, a
fort of phrenzy, never in its right element, till you
take it up in the buſineſs of the ſtate.
Upon all which, and many other reaſons of e-
qual weight, though not equally curious, I do here
gladly embrace an opportunity. I have long fought
for, of recompending it as a very noble undertak,
ing to Sir Edward Seymour, Sir Chriſtopher Muf.
grave, Sir John Bawls, John How, Efq; and other
patriots concerned, that they would move for leave
to bring in a bill for appointing coinmiflioners
to inſpect into Bedlam, and the parts: adjacent;
who ſhall be impowered to fend for perſons, papers,
and records; to examine into the merits and qualifi-
• Tacit,
M3
cations
138 A TALE OF A TUB.
cations of every ſtudent and profeſſor; to obſerve
with the utmoſt exactneſs, their ſeveral diſpoſitions
and behaviour; by which means, duly diſtinguiſhing
and adapting their talents, they might produce ad-
mirable inſtruments for the feveral offices in a
itate, + * * * * civil and military; proceeding in
fuch methods as I ſhall here humbly propofe. And
I hope the gentle reader will give fome allowance to
my great folicitudes in this important affair, upon
account of the high eſteem I have borne that ho-
nourable ſociety, whereof I had ſome time the hap-
pineſs to be an unworthy number.
Is any ſtudent tearing his ſtraw in piece-meal,
fwearing and blafpheming, biting his grate, foam-
ing at the mouth, and emptying his piſs-pot in the
ſpectators' faces? Let the Right Worſhipful the
Commiſſioner of Inſpection give him a regiment of
dřagoons, and ſend him into Flanders among the
reſt. Is another eternally talking, ſputtering, gap.
ing, bawling, in a found without period or article?
what wonderful talents are here miſlaid! let him be
furniſhed immediately with a green bag and papers,
and three pence * in his pocket, and away with him
to Weſtminſter-hall. You will find a third grave-
ly taking the dimenſions of his kennel ; a perſon
of forelight and infight, though kept quite in the
dark; for why, like Mofes, ecce cornuta erat ejus
facies I. He walks duly in one pace; intreats
your penny with due gravity and ceremony;
talks much of hard times, and taxes, and the
whore of Babylon ; bars up the wooden window of
his cell conſtantly at eight o'clock; dreams of fire,
and foop-lifters, and court-cuſtomers, and privileged
+ Ecclefiaftical.
• A lawyer's coach-hire, when four together, from any of the
inns of court to Westminſter,
1 Cornutus is either horned or ſhining: and by this term Mofes is
deſcribed in the yulgar Latia of the Bible,
places.
Sect. 9.
1 digreffion concerning madneſs 139
places. Now, what a figure would all theſe ac-
quirements amount to, if the owner were fent into
the city among his brethren! Behold a fourth, in
much and deep converſation with himſelf; biting
his thumbs at proper junctures ; his countenance
clockered with buſineſs and deſign; ſometimes
walking very faſt, with his eyes nailed to a paper
that he holds in his hands ;- a great faver of time;
ſomewhat thick of hearing ; very ſhort of fight,
but more of memory; a man ever in haſte; a great
hatcher and breeder of buſineſs, and excellent at the
famous art of whiſpering nothing ; a large idolater
of monofyllables and procraſtination; ſo ready to
gite his word to every body that he never keeps it ,
one that has forgot the common meaning of words,
but an admirablc retainer of the found: extremely
ſubject to thic looſeneſs, for his occaſions are perpe-
tually calling him away. If you approach his grate
in his familiar intervals, “Sir," ſays he, “ Give
me a penny and I'll ſing you a ſong; but give
me the penny firſt. (Hence comes the common
ſaying, and commoner practice, of parting with
money for a long.) What a complete fyftem of
court-ſkill is here deſcribed in every branch of it,
and all utterly loſt with wrong application! Accoſt
the hole of another kennel, (firſt ſtopping your
noſe,) you will behold a furly, gloomy, nafty, flo-
venly mortal, raking in his own dung, and dabbling
in his urine,. The beſt part of his diet is the re-
verſion of his own ordure; which, expiring into
ſteams, whirls perpetually about, and at laſt rein-
funds. His complexion is of a dirty yellow, with a
thin ſcattered beard, exactly agreeable to that of his
diet upon its firſt declination; like other infects,
who having their birth and education in an excre-
ment, from thence borrow their colour and their
ſmell. The ſtudent of this apartment is very fpar-
ing of his words, but ſomewhat over-liberal of his
breath; he holds his hand out ready to receive
your
140
A TALE OF A TUB.
your penny, and immediately upon receipt, with-
draws to his former occupations. Now, is it not
amazing to think, the ſociety of Warwick-lane
ſhould have no more concern for the recovery of
ſo uſeful a member, who, if one may judge from
theſe appearances, would become the greateſt or-
nament to that illuſtrious body? Another ſtudent
Struts up fiercely to your teeth, puffing with his
lips, half ſqueezing out his eyes, and very graci-
ouſly holds you out his hand to kiſs. The keeper
deſires you not to be afraid of this profeſſor, for
he will do you no hurt. To him alone is allowed
the liberty of the anti-chamber; and the orator of
the place gives you to underſtand, that this folemn
perſon is a tailor ruń mad with pride. This confi-
derable ſtudent is adorned with many other quali-
ties, upon which at preſent I ſhall not farther en-
large. Hark in your ear *. -I am ftrangely
miltaken, if all his addreſs, his motions, and his
airs, would not then be very natural, and in their
proper element.
I ſhall not defcend fo minutely, as to inſiſt upon
the vaſt number of beaux, fidlers, poets and politi- -
cians, that the world might recover by ſuch a re-
formation. But what is more material, beſides the
clear gain redounding to the commonwealth, by fo
large an acquiſition of perſons to employ, whoſe
talents and acquirements, if I may be ſo bold to
affirm it, are now buried, or at leaſt miſapplied ;
it would be a mighty advantage accruing to the
public from this inquiry, that all theſe would very
much excel, and arrive at great perfection in their
ſeveral kinds ;. which, I think, is manifeft from
what I have already ſhewn, and ſhall inforce by
this one plain inſtance, that even I myſelf, the au-
* I cannot conjecture what the au:bor means here, or how
th's charm could be filled, shough it is capable of more than one
interpretation,
thor
Sect.ro. A further digreffion.
141
thor of theſe momentous truths, am a perſon,
whoſe imaginations are hard-mouthed, and ex-
ceedingly diſpoſed to run away with his reaſon,
which I have obſerved, from long experience, to
be a very light rider, and eaſily ſhaken off ; upon
which account, my friends will never truſt me a-
lone, without a folemn promiſe to vent my fpecu-
lations in this or the like manner, for the univer-
fal benefit of human kind; which perhaps, the
gentle, courteous, and candid reader, brimful of
that modern charity and tenderneſs uſually annexed
to his office, will be very hardly perſuaded to be
lieve..
S E C T.
X.
A further digrefion *
FT is an unanſwerable argument of a very refined
age, the wonderful civilities that have paſſed of
late years between the nation of authors, and that
of readers. There can hardly pop out a play, a
pamphlet, or a poem, without a preface full of ac-
knowledgement to the world, for the general re-
ception and applauſe they have given it; which the
Lord knows where, or when, or how, or from
whom it received t. In due deference to fo lau.
dable a cuftom, I do here return my humble thanks
to his Majeſty, and both houſes of parliament; to
* This ſection has in former editions been intitled, A Tale of a
Pub; but the Tale not being continued till ſection 11, and this being
only a further digreffion, po apology can be thought peceflary for ma-
king the ti:le correſpond with the contents.
This is literally true, as we may obſerve in the prefaces ta mort
plays, poems, & cum
the
142
A TALE OF A TUB.
the lords of the King's Moſt Honourable Privy
Council; to the Reverend the judges; to the clergy,
and gentry, and yeomanry of this land; but, in a
more eſpecial manner, to my worthy brethren and
friends at Will's coffeehouſe, and Greſham-college, and
Warwick-lane, and Moorfields, and Scotland-yard,
and Weſtminſter-ball, and Guild-hall; in ſhort, to
all inhabitants and retainers whatſoever, either in
court, or church, or camp, or city, or country,
for their generous and univerſal acceptance of this
divine treatiſe. I accept their approbation and
good opinion with extreme gratitude; and, to the
utmoſt of my poor capacity, ſhall take hold of all
opportunities to return the obligation.
I am alſo happy, that fate has flung me into fo
blefled an age, for the mutual felicity of bookſellers
and authors, whom I may ſafely affirm to be at this
day the two only ſatisfied parties in England. Alk
an author, how his laſt piece has ſucceeded : " Why,
" truly, he thanks his ſtars, the world has been.
“ very favourable, and he has not the leaſt reafon
" to complain. And yet, by G-, he writ it in
a week at bits and ſtarts, when he could ſteal an
“ hour from his urgent affairs ;" as it is a hundred
to one, you may ſee farther in the preface, to
which he refers you; and for the reſt, to the
bookſeller. There you go as a cuſtomer, and make
the ſame queſtion : “ He bleſſes his God the thing
w takes wonderfully; he is juſt printing the ſecond
" edition, and has but three left in his ſhop." You
beat down the price : "Sir, we ſhall not differ;"
and, in hopes of your cuſtom another time, lets
you have it as reafonable as you pleaſe; “ and,
pray fend as many of your acquaintance as you
Śc will, I fhall upon your account furniſh them all
at the ſame rate."
Now, it is not well enough confidered to what
accidents and occaſions the world is indebted for
the greateſt part of thoſe noble writings which
hourly
Sect. io. A further digreffion.
143
* *
21
hourly ſtart up to entertain it. If it were not for
rainy day, a drunken vigil, a fit of the ſpleen,
“ a courſe of phyfic, a fleepy Sunday, an ill run
" at dice, a long tailor's bill, a beggar's purſe, a
~ factious head, a hot fun, coſtive diet, want of
" books, and a juft contempt of learning ;" but
for theſe events, I ſay, and ſome others, too long
to recite, (eſpecially a “prudent neglect of taking
s brimſtone inwardly).” I doubt, the number of
authors, and of writings, would dwindle away to
A degree moſt woful to behold. To confirm this
opinion, hear the words of a famous Troglodyte
philoſopher. " It is certain," ſaid he, « fome
grains of folly are of courſe annexed as part of
" the compoſitions of human nature: only the
“ choice is left us, whether we pleaſe to wear them
« inlaid or imlofid; and we need not go very far
" to feek how that is uſually determined, when we
remember, it is with human faculties as with li.
(quors, the lighteſt will be ever at the top."
There is in this famous iſland of Britain, a cer-
tain paultry fcribler, very voluminous, whoſe cha-
racter the reader cannot wholly be a ſtranger to.
He deals in a pernicious kind of writings, called
ſecond parts, and uſually paffes under the name of
the author of the firſt. I eaſily foreſee, that as ſoon
as I lay down my pen, this.nimble operator will have
ſtolen it, and treat me as inhumanly as he hath al-
ready done Dr. Blackmore, L'Eſtrange, and many
others, who ſhall here be nameleſs. I therefore
fly for juſtice and relief, into the hands of that
great rectifier of faddles*, and lover of mankind, Dr.
Bentley, begging he will take this enormous grie-
vance into his moſt modern conſideration : and if it
ſhould fo happen, that the furniture of an afs, in
the fhape of a ſecond part, muſt for my ſins be clap-
Alluding to the trite phraſe, “ Place the ſaddle on the right
(6 horſe."
ped
144
A TALE OF A TUB.
fo
ped by a miſtake upon my back; that he will im-
mediately pleaſe, in the preſence of the world, to
lighten me of the burden, and take it home to his
own houſe, till the true beaſt thinks fit to call for it,
In the mean time, I do here give this public no-
tice, that my reſolutions are to circumſcribe within
this diſcourſe the whole ſtock of matter I have been
many years providing. Since my vein is once
opened, I am content to exhauſt it all at a running,
for the peculiar advantage of my dear country, and
for the univerſal benefit of mankind. Therefore
hoſpitably conſidering the number of my gueſts,
they ſhall have
my
whole entertainment at a meal ;
and I ſcorn to ſet up the leavings in the cupboard.
What the gueſts cannot eat, may be given to the
poor; and the dogs under the table may gnaw the
bones t. This I underſtand for a more generous
proceeding, than to turn the company's ſtomach,
by inviting them again to-morrow to a fcurvy meal
of ſcraps.
If the reader fairly conſiders the ſtrength of what
I have advanced in the foregoing ſection, I am con-
vinced it will produce a wonderful revolution in his
notions and opinions; and he will be abundantly
better prepared to receive and to reliſh the conclu-
ding part of this miraculous treatiſe, Readers may
be divided into three claffes; the ſuperficial, the ig-
norant, and the learned: and I have with much fe-
licity fitted my pen to the genius and advantage of
each. The ſuperficial reader will be ftrangely pro-
voked to laughter; which clears the breaſt and the
lungs, is ſovereign againſt the ſpleen, and the moſt
innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant reader, be-
tween whom and the former the diſtinction is ex-
tremely nice, will find himſelf difpoſed to ftare;
which is an admirable remedy for ill eyes, ferves
t By dogs the author means common injudicious critics, as he ex-
plains it himſelf before, in his digreſſion upon critics, p. 82.
to
Scct. 10.
A further digrifion.
145
to raiſe and enliven the ſpirits, and wonderfully
helps perfpiration. But the reader truly learner',
chictly for whoſe benefit I wake when others fleep,
and ſleep when others wake, will here find ſufficient
matter to employ his fpeculations for the reſt of his
life. It were much to be wiſhed, and I do here
humbly propoſe for an experiment, that every
prince in Chriſtendom will take ſeven of the deepeji
Jiholars in his doininions, and thut then up cloſe
for ſeven years, in ſeven chambers, with a command
to write féven ample commentaries on this compre-
henſive diſcourſe. I ſhall venture to affirm, that
whatever difference may be found in their ſeveral
conjectures, they will be all, without the leaſt dir-
tortion, inanifcftly deducible from the text. Mean
time, it is my earneſt requeſt, that ſo uſeful an un-
dertaking may be entered upon, if their Majeſties
pleate, with all convenient ſpeed; becauſe I have a
Atrong inclination, before I leave the world, to taſte
a blefling, which we myſterious writers can ſeldom
reach, till we have gotten into our graves, whether
it is, that Fame, biing a fruit graffed on the body,
can hardly grow, and inuch lefs ripen, till the ſtock
is in the earth; or whether ſhe be a bird of prey,
and is lured among the rett to purſue after the
fcent of a carcaſe; or whether ſhe conceives her
trumpet ſounds beſt and fartheſt, when the ſtands
on a tomb, by the advantage of a riſing ground,
and the echo of a hollow vault.
It is true, indeed, the republic of dark authors,
after they once found out this exceilent expedient
of dying, have been peculiarly happy in the varie-
ty, as well as extent of their reputation. For,
Night being the univerſal mother of things, wife
philoſophers hold all writings to be fruitful in the
proportion they are dark; and therefore the true
illuminated (that is to ſay, the darkeſt of all) have
VOL.I.
N
* A game of the Roycrucians. Theſe were Fanatic alchy.
miſis,
met
146 A TALE OF A TUB.
met with ſuch numberleſs commentators, whoſe
ſcholaſtic midwifery hath delivered them of mean-
ings that the authors themſelves perhaps never
conceived, and yet may very juſtly be allowed
the lawful parents of them; the words of ſuch wri-
ters being like ſeed, which, however ſcattered at
random, when they light upon a fruitful ground,
will multiply far beyond either the hopes or ima-
gination of the fower *
And therefore, in order to promote ſo uſeful a
work, I will here take leave to glance a few innu-
endo's, that
may
be of great aſſiſtance to thoſe ſub-
lime ſpirits, who ſhall be appointed to labour in a
univerſal comment upon this wonderful diſcourſe.
And, firſt, I have couched a very profound myfte-
ry in the number of O's multiplied by ſeven, and
divided by nine f. Alſo, if a devout brother of
the Roſy Groſs will pray fetvently for fixty-three
mornings, with a lively faith, and then tranſpoſe
certain letters and ſyllables according to preſcrip-
tion, in the ſecond and fifth ſection; they will cer-
tainly reveal into a full recept of the opus magnum.
Laſdy, whoever will be at the pains to calculate
the whole number of each letter in this treatiſe,
and ſum up the difference exactly between the ſeve-
ral numbers, afligning the true natural caufe for
every ſuch difference; the diſcoveries in the pro-
duct will plentifully reward his labour. But then
he-muſt beware of bythus and ſige and be fure
not
miſts, who, in ſearch after the great fecret, hat invented a means al-
together proportioned to their end. It was a kind of theological phi-
loſophy, made up of almoſt equal mixtures of Pagan Platoniſm, Chri-
ftian Quetiſm, and the Jewiſh Cabala. " Warburton on the Rape
« of the Lock."
* Nothing is more frequent, than for commentators to force in.
terpretations which the author never meant.
+ This is what the Cabaliſts among the Jews have done with the
Bible, and pretend to find wonderful myſteries by it.
I I was told by an eminent divine, whom I conſulted on this
point, that theſe two barbarous words, with that of acbamoth, and
iis
Sect. II.
A TALE OF A TUB.
147
a &,
not to forget the qualitics of achamoth; a cujus la-
crymis humecia prodit fubftantia, a rifu lucida, a tri-
Nitia fulida, et a timore mobilis ; wherein Eugenius
Philalethes * hath committed an unpardonable miſ-
take.
***********************
SECT. XI.
A TALE OF A TUB.
A Fter fo wide a compaſs as I have wandered, I
do now gladly overtake, and cloſe in with my
fubject; and ſhall henceforth hold on with it an
even pace to the end of my journey, except fome
beautiful proſpect appears within fight of my way:
whereof though at preſent I have neither warning
ror expectation, yet upon ſuch an accident, come
when it will, I ſhall beg my reader's favour and
company, allowing me to conduct him through it
its qualities, as here ſet down, are quoted from Irenæus. This he
diſcovered by ſearching that ancient writer for another quotation of
our avihor; which he has placed in the title-page, and refers to the
book and chapter. The curious were very inquiſitive, whether thoſe
barbarous words, baſyma cacabafa, &c. are scally in Irenæuss and
upon coçuiry, it was found they were a fort of capt or jargon of cer.
tain heretics, and therefore very properly prefited to ſuch a book as
this of our anthor.
• Vid. Abima magica abfcondita.
To the above mentioned treatiſe, called Anthropompkia Tbermagica,
there is another annexed, called Arima magica abſcondira, written
by the ſame author, Vaugbar, under the name of Eugenius Philaletbas
but in neither of thoſe treatiſes is there any mention of acbamoth, of
its qualities: fo that this is nothing but amuſement, and a ridicule of
as we have ſaid, tranſcribed from Irenæus, though I know not from
wbat part. I believe one of the author's deſigns was, to ſet curious
men 1 bunting through indexes, and enquiring for books out of the
common road.
along
B
N 2
148 A TALE OF A TUB.
along with myſelf. For in writing, it is as in tra-
welling; if a man is in haſte to be at home, (whicii
I acknowledge to be none of my cafe, having never
io little buſineſs as when I am there), if his lorje be
tired with long riding and ill ways, or be naturally
a jade, I advile him clearly to make the ſtraiteit
and the commoneft road, be it ever ſo dirty. But
then, ſurely, we muſt own ſuch a man to be a ſcur-
vy companion at beſt: he ſpatters hijnſelf and his
fellow-travellers at every itep; all their thoughts,
and wiſhes, and converſation, turn entirely upon
the ſubject of their journey's end; and at every
ſplaſh, and plunge, and ſtumble, they heartily with
one another at the devil.
On the other ſide, wlien a traveller and his horſe
are in heart and plight; when his purſe is -full,
and the day before him; he takes the road only
where it is clean and convenient; entertains his
company there as agreeably as he can : but, upon
the firſt occaſion, carries them along with him to
every delightful ſcene in view, whether of art, of
nature, or of both; and if they chance to refufe,
out of ſtupidity or wearineſs, let them. jog on by
themſelves and be d-mn'd :- he'll overtake them
at the next town.; at which arriving, he rides fu-
riouſly through; the men, women, and children
run out to gaze; a hundred noiſy curs
run barko
ing after him; of which if he honours the boldeſt
with a la of his whip, it is rather out of fport than
revenge : but ſhould fome fouter mongrid dare too
near an approach, he receives a ſalute on the chaps
by an accidental ſtroke from the courfer's heels,
(nor is any ground loft by the blow), which ſends
him yelping and limping home.
I now proceed to fum up the fingular adventures
of my renowned Jack; the ſtate of whofe difpofi-
*
By theſe are mcant what the author calls, the True Critice
P. 82.
tions
Sect. Il.
A TALE OF A TUB. .
149
tions and fortunes the careful reader does, no
doubt, moſt exactly remember, as I laſt parted
with them in the concluſion of a former ſection.
Therefore his next care muſt be, from two of the
foregoing, to extract a ſcheme of notions that may
beſt fit his underſtanding for a true reliſh of what
is to enſue.
Jack had not only calculated the firſt revolution
of his brain ſo prudently, as to give riſe to that epi-
demic ſect of Aslifts, but ſucceeding alſo into a new
and ſtrange variety of conceptions, the fruitfulneſs
of his imagination led him into certain notions,
which, although in appearance very unaccountable,
were not without their myſteries and their mean-
ings, nor wanted followers to countenance and im-
prove them. I ſhall therefore be extremely careful
and exact in recounting ſuch material paſſages of
this nature, as I have been able to collect, either
from undoubted tradition, or indefatigable read-
ing ; and ſhall deſcribe them as graphically as it is
pofſible, and as far as notions of that height and
latitude can be brought within the compaſs of a pen.
Nor do I at all queſtion, but they will furniſh plen-
ty of noble matter for ſuch, whoſe converting ima.
ginations diſpoſe them to reduce all things into
types; who can make badows, no thanks to the
fun; and then mould them into ſubſtances, no
thanks to philofophy; whoſe peculiar talent lies in
fixing tropes and allegorics to the letter, and refin-
ing what is literal into figure and myſtery.
Jack had provided a fair copy of his father's
will
, ingrofſed in form upon a large ſkin of parch
ment; and reſolving to act the part of a moft dutiful
fon, he became the fondeft creature of it imaginable.
For although, as I have often told the reader, it
confifted wholly in certain plain, eaſy directions a-
bout the management and wearing of their coats,
with legacies and penalties in caſe of obedience or
neglect; yet he began to entertain a fancy, that the
mattor
N 3
150
A TALE OF I TUB.
tom.
matter was deeper and darker, and therefore muſt
needs have a great deal more of myſtery at the bot-
“ Gentlemen, ſaid he, I will prove this very
“ fkin of parchment to be meat, drink, and cloth;
“ to be the philoſpher's ſtone, and the univerſal
• medicine *." In conſequence of which raptures,
he refolved to make uſe of it in the moſt nceffary,
as well as the moſt paultry occaſions of life. He
had a way of working it into any ſhape he pleaſed;
fo that it ferved him for a night-cap when he went
to bed, and for an umbrella in rainy weather. He
would lap a piece of it about a ſore toe; or when
he had fits, burn two inches under his noſe; or if
any thing lay heavy on his ſtomach, ſcrape off,
and ſwallow as much of the powder as would lie on
a filver penny: they were all infallible remedies.
With analogy to theſe refinements, his common
talk and converſation ran wholly in the phraſe of
his will t; and he circumſcribed the utmoſt of his
eloquence within that compaſs, not daring to let
flip a ſyllable without authority from thence, Once,
at a ſtrange houſe, he was ſuddenly taken fort
upon an urgent juncture, whereon it may not be al-
lowed too particularly to dilate ; and being not able
to call to mind, with that ſuddenneſs the occafion
required, an authentic phraſe for demanding the
way to the back-fide; he choſe rather, as the moſt
prudent courſe, to incur the penalty in ſuch caſes
uſually annexed. Neither was it poſſible for the
united rhetoric of mankind to prevail with him to
make himſelf clean again; becauſe, having confult-
ed the will upon this emergency, he met with a paſ-
• The author here laſhes thofe pretenders to purity, who place ſo
much merit in uſing ſcripture phrafe on all occaſions.
+ The Proteſtant diffeniers uſe feripture pbrafes in their ſerious dif-
courſes and compo'nres, more than the Church of England men.
Ac-
cordingly Jack is introduced, making his common talk and converſa.
tion to run wholly in the phraſe of his WILL, W. Wotton.
ſage
Sect. 11.
151
A TALE OF A TUB.
fage near the bottom (whether foiſted in by the
tranfcriber, is not known) which ſeemed to for-
bid it *.
He made it a part of his religion, never to ſay
grace to his meat t; nor could all the world per-
fuade him, as the common phraſe is, to eat his
victuals like a Chriſtian f.
He bore a ſtrange kind of appetite to ſnap-dra-
gin I, and to the livid ſnuffs of a burning candle ;
which he would catch and ſwallow with an agility
wonderful to conceive ; and by this procedure
maintained a perpetual flame in his belly; which
iſſuing in a glowing ſteam from both his eyes, as
well as his noſtrils and his mouth, made his head
appcar, in a dark night, like the ikull of an afs,
wherein a roguiſh boy had conveyd a farthing can-
dle, to the terror of bis Majeſty's liege ſubjects. There-
fore he made uſe of no other expedient to light
himſelf home; but was wont to ſay, that a wiſe man
was his own lantern,
He would ſhut his eyes as he walked along the
ſtreets; and if he happened to bounce his head a-
gainſt a poft, or fall into the kennel, as he feldom
miſſed either to do one or both, he would tell the
. I cannot gueſs the author's meaning here, which I would be
very glad to know, becauſe it ſeems to be of importance,
Ibid. Incurring ibe penalty in ſuch caſes uſually onnexerl, wants no ex-
planation. He would not make bimſelf clean, becauſe baving conſulted ibe
will, (i. c. the New Teſtament), be mei wirb a palige near the bottom,
i. c. in the 11th verſe of the laſt chapter of the Revelations, " He
" which is filiby, let him be fileby ftill," wbicb ſeemed 10 forbid is.
Wherber foifted in by the tranſcriber, is added; becauſe this paragraph
is wanting in the plexandrian MS, the oldeſt and moſt authentic co-
py of the New Teſtament.
t The Bovenly way of receiving the ſacrament among the fa-
natics,
I This is a common phraſe to expreſs cating cleanly, and is meant
for an invective against that indecent manner among fume people in
receiving the ſacrament; ſo in the lipes before, wbich is to be under,
Stood of the diflcntcrs refuſing to kneel at the ſacrament.
| I can not well find out the author's meaning bere, unleſs it be
the bot, untimely, blind zeal of enthuſiaſts,
gibing
152
A TALE OF A TUB,
gibing apprentices, who looked on, that " he ſub-
“ mitted, with entire reſignation, as to a trip, or a
“ blow of fate, with whoin he found, by long ex-
"perience, how vain it was either to wreſtle or
to cuff; and whoever durſt undertake to do ei-
" ther, would be ſure to come off with a ſwinging
fall, or a bloody noſe. It was ordained, ſaid he,
“ ſome few days before the creation, that my noſe
" and this very poſt ſhould have a rencounter ;
« and therefore Nature thought fit to ſend us both
“ into the world into the ſame age, and to make
“ us countrymen and fellow-citizens. Now, had
my eyes been open, it is very likely, the buſineſs
“ might have been a great deal worfe ; for how
many a confounded flip is daily got by man, with
“ all his forefight about him? Beſides, the eyes of
" the undertanding ſee beſt, when thoſe of the
“ ſenſes are out of the way; and therefore blind
men are obſerved to tread their ſteps with much
“ more caution, and conduct, and judgment, than
“ thoſe who rely with too much confidence upon
“ the virtue of the viſual nerve, which every little
« accident ſhakes out of order, and a drop or a
“ film can wholly diſconcert; like a lantern among
“ a pack of roaring bullies, when they ſcour the
“ ſtreets; expoſing its owner and itſelf, to outward
" kicks and buffets, which both might have efcap-
“ ed, if the vanity of appearing would have ſuf-
« fered them to walk in the dark. But farther, if
“ we examine the conduct of theſe boaſted lights, it
" will prove yet a great deal worſe than their for-
« tune. It is true, I have broke my noſe againſt
" this poſt, becauſe fortune either forgot, or did
* not think it convenient to twich me by the elbow,
« and give me notice to avoid it. But let not this
“ encourage either the preſent age or poſterity, to
« truſt their noſes into the keeping of their eyes;
** which may prove the faireſt way of loſing them
* for good and all. For, O ye eyes, ye blind
guides;
Sect. 11. A TALE OF A TUB.
153
“ fome bog."
one hand
" guides; miſerable guardians are ye of our frail
" nores; ye, I ſay, who faften upon the firſt pre-
“ cipice in view, and then tow our wretched wil-
" ling bodies after you, to the very brink of de-
“ ftruction. But, alas! that brink is rotten, our
« fect ſlip, and we tumble down prone into a gulf,
" without one hoſpitable thrub in the way to bre".
" the fall; a fall to which not any nofe of mortal
“ make is equal, except that of the giant Laurcal-
10*, who was lord of the filver bridge. Moſt
" properly therefore, O cyes, and with great juſ-
tice, may you be compared to thole fooliſh
“ lights, which conduét men through dirt and
« darkneſs, till they fall into a deep pit, or a noi-
This I have produced, as a ſcantling of Jack's
great cloquence, and the force of his reaſoning
upon ſuch abſtruſe matters.
He was, beſides, a perfon of great deſign and
improvement in affairs of devotion, having intro-
duced a new deity, who hath ſince met with a vaſt
number of worshippers by fome called Babel, by
others Cbaos; who had an ancient temple of Gothie
ſtructure upon Saliſbury-plain, famous for its ſhrine
and celebration by pilgrims.
When he had fome roguiſh trick to play, he
would down with his knees, up with his eyes, and
fall to prayers, though in the midſt of the kennelt.
Then it was, that thoſe who underſtood his pranks
would be ſure to get far enough out of his way;
and whenever curioſity attracted ftrangers to laugh,
out with his gear, and piſs full in their eyes, and
with the other all beſpatter them with mud*.**
# Vide Don Quixote.
+ The villanies and crueltics, committed by cathulalts and fma.
tics among us, were all performed onder the diſguiſe of religion and
long prayers.
In
154
A TALE OF A TUB.
**
In winter he went always looſe and unbuttoned,
and clad as thin as poſſible, to let in the ambient
heat; and in ſummer lapped himſelf cloſe and thick,
to keep it out .
In all revolutions of government, he would make
his court for the office of hangman-generall; and
in the exercife of that dignity, wherein he was
very dextrous, would make uſe of no other vizor
than a long prayer
He had a tongue ſo mufculous and fubtil, that
he could twift it up into his nofe, and deliver a
ftrange kind of ſpeech from thence. He was alſo
the firſt in theſe kingdoms who began to improve
the Spaniſh accompliſhment of braying ; and having
large ears, perpetually expoſed and erected, he car-
ried his art to ſuch a perfection, that it was a point
of great difficulty to diſtinguish, either by the view
or the ſound, between the original and the copy.
He was troubled with a diſeaſe, reverſe to that
called the ſtinging of the tarantula ; and would run
dogomad at the noiſe of muſic, eſpecially a pair of
bag pipes *. But he would cure himſelf again, by
taking two or three turns in Weſtminſter.hail, or Bi.
lingſgate, or in a boarding ſchool, or the Royal-Ex-
change, or a ſtate coffee-houſe.
He was a perſon that feared no colourst, but mor-
tally hated all; and upon that account bore a cruel
averfion againft painters ; inſomuch, that in his
paroxyfis, as he walked the ſtreets, he would
1 They affected differences in habit and behaviour.
They are fevere perfecutors, and all in a form of cant and des
votion.
** Cromwell and lis confederates went, as they called it; to feek
God, when they refolved to murder the King.
* This is to expoſe' our Diflenters aver lion againſt instrumental
muſic in churches. W. Wotton.
+ They quarrel at the most innocent decency and ornament, and
defaced the ftatucs and paintings on all the churches in England.
have
Scct. II. A TALE OF A TUB.
155
have his pockets loaden with ſtones, to pelt at the
figns.
Having, from his manner of living, frequent
occaſion to waſh himſelf, he would often leap over
head and ears into water, though it were in the
midſt of winter; but was always obſerved to come
out again much dirtier, if poſſible, than he went
in t.
He was the firſt that ever found out the ſecret of
contriving a ſoporiferous medicine to be conveyed in
at the ears.
It was a compound of ſulphur, and
balm of Gilead, with a little pilgrim's ſalve).
He wore a large plaiſfer of artificial cauftics on
his ftomach, with the fevour of which he could ſet
himfelf a groaning, like the famous board upon
application of a red-hot iron,
He would ſtand in the turning of a ſtreet; and,
calling to thoſe who paſſed by, would cry to one,
" Worthy Sir, do me the honour of a good flap
" in the chaps ;" to another, “ Honeſt friend,
pray
favour me with a handſome kick on the arfe.
" Madam, ſhall I intreat a ſmall box on the ear
" from your Ladyſhip's fair hand ? Noble Cap-
* tain, lend a reaſonable thwack, for the love of
« God, with that cane of yours, over theſe poor
« ſhoulders And when he had, by ſuch ear-
neft folicitations, made a ſhift to procure a baſting
fufficient to ſwell up his fancy and his fides, he
would return home extremely comforted, and full of
terrible accounts of what he had undergone for the
public good. “ Obſerve this ſtroke,” ſaid he, thew-
ing his bare ſhoulders,“ a plaguy janifary gave it
1 Baptiſm of adults by plunging.
Fanatic preaching, compoſed either of hell and damnarion, or a
fullone deſcription of the joys of heaven; both in ſuch a dirty, nau-
ſeous ſtyle, as to be well refembled to pilgrim's ſalve.
* The Fanatics have always had a way of affecting to run into
perfecution, and count valt merit upon every little barddip they
Switcr.
156
A TALE OF A TUB.
.
me this very morning at ſeven o'clock, as, with
« much ado, I was driving off the Great Turk.
" Neighbours, mind, this broken head deſerves a
" plaiſter. Had poor Jack been tender of his nod.
s dle, you would have ſeen the Pope and the
« French King, long before this time of day, a-
mong your wives and your warehouſes. Dear
“ Chriſtians, the Great Mogul was come as far as
*« White-chapel ; and you may thank theſe poor
<< fides, that he hath not (God bleſs us already
s ſwallowed up man, woman, and child.”
It was highly worth obſerving, the ſingular ef.
fects of that averſion or antipathy, which Jack and
his brother Peter ſeemed, even to an affectation, to
bear againſt each other t. Peter had lately done
fome rogueries, that forced him to abfcond ; and he
feldom ventured to ſtir out before night, for fear
of bailifts. Their lodgings were at the two moſt
diftant parts of the town, from each other; and
whenever their occaſions or humours called them
abroad, they would make choice of the oddeft un-
likely times, and moſt uncouth rounds they could
invent, that they might be ſure to avoid one another.
Yet, after all this, it was their perpetual fortune to
meet. The reaſon of which is eaſy enough to ap-
prehend: for the frenfy and the ſpleen of both,
having the fame foundation, we may look upon them
as two pair of compaſſes, equally extended, and
the fixed foot of each remaining in the ſame cen-
tre ; which, though moving contrary ways at firſt,
will be ſure to encounter fomewhere or other in the
.
† The Papiſts and Fanatics, though they appear the moſt averſe
againſt each other, yet bear a near re emblance in many things, as
hath been obſerved by learned men.
Ibid. The agreement of our Difentes and the Papiſts, in that
which Biſhop Stillingteet called, The funari ijm of the churcb of Rome,
is ludicre ully deſcribed for feveral pages together, by Jack's likeneſs
to Peter, and their being often miftaken for each other, and their
frequent meetings when they least intended it. W. Wotica.
.circum-
Sect. II.
A TALE OF A TUB.
157
circumference. Beſides, it was among the great
misfortunes of Jack, to bear a huge perſonal re-
ſemblance with his brother Peter. Their humour
and difpofitions were not only the ſame, but there
was a cloſe analogy in their fhape and ſize, and their
inien; inſomuch as nothing was more frequent,
than for a bailiff to feiſe Jack by the ſhoulders, and
to cry," Mr. Peter, you are the King's prifoner:”
or, at other times, for one of Peter's neareſt friends
to accoft Jack with open arins,“ Dear Peter, I am
glad to ſee thee; pray, ſend me one of your beſt
« medicines for the worms." This, we may ſup-
poſe, was a mortifying return of thoſe pains and
proceedings Jack had laboured in ſo long; and
finding how directly oppoſite all his endeavours had
anſwered to the fole end and intention which he
had propoſed to himſelf, how could it avoid hav-
ing terrible effects, upon a head and heart fo fur-
niſhed as his? However, the poor reinainders of
his coat bore all the puniſhment. The orient fun
never entered upon his diurnal progreſs, without
miſling a piece of it. He hired a tailor to ſtich up
the collar ſo cloſe, that it was ready to choke him,
and ſqueezed out his eyes at ſuch a rate, as one
could ſee nothing but the white. What little was
left of the main ſubſtance of the coat, he rubbed
every day, for two hours, againſt a rough-caſt wall,
in order to grind away the remnants of lace and
embroidery: but, at the ſame time, went on with
fo much violence, that he proceeded a heathen phi-
blopher. Yet, after all he could do of this kind,
the ſucceſs continued ſtill to diſappoint his expecta-
tion. For, as it is the nature of rags to bear a
kind of mock-reſemblance to finery; there being a
fort of fluttering appearance in both, which is not
to be diſtinguished at a diſtance, in the dark, or by
Short-fighted eyes : fo, in theſe junctures, it fared
with Jack and his tatters, that they offered to the
firſt view à ridiculous flaunting; whiclı, aſlifting
VOL.I.
0
158 A TALE OF A TUB.
the reſemblance in perſon and air, thwarted all his
projects of ſeparation, and left ſo near a fimilitude
between them, as frequently deceived the very dif-
ciples and followers of both.
*
#
Defunt nonnulla.
The old Sclavonian proverb ſaid well, That “ it
“ is with men, as with a fles; whoever would keep
" them faft, muſt find a very good hold at their
ears." Yet I think we may affirm, that it hath
been verified by repeated experience, that,
Efugiet tamen hæc fceleratus vincula Proteus.
It is good, therefore, to read the maxims of our
anceſtors, with great allowances to times and per-
ſons. For, if we look into primitive records, we
fhall find, that no revolutions have been ſo great,
or ſo frequent, as thoſe of human ears. In for-
mer days, there was a curious invention to catch
and keep them; which, I think, we may juſtly rec-
kon among the artes perditæ. And how can it be
otherwiſe, when, in theſe latter centuries, the
very
fpecies is not only diminiſhed to a very lamentable
degree, but the poor remainder is alſo degenerated
ſo far, as to mock our ſkilfulleſt tenure? For if the
only flitting of one ear in a ſtag hath been found
fufficient to propagate the defect through a whole
foreſt, why ſhould we wonder at the greateſt conſe-
quences, from ſo many loppings and mutilations,
to which the ears of our fathers, and our own,
have been of late ſo much expoſed ? It is true, in-
deed, that while this iſand of ours was under the
dominion of grace, many endeavours were made to
improve the growth of ears once more among us.
The proportion of largenefs was not only looked
upon as an ornament of the outward man, but as a
type of grace in the inward. Beſides, it is held by
natu-
Sect. 11.
A TALE OF A TUB.
159
naturaliſts, that if there be a protuberancy of parts
in the ſuperior region of the body, as in the ears and
noſe, there muſt be a parity alſo in the inferior.
And therefore, in that truly pious age, the males
in every aſſembly, according as they were gifted,
appeared very forward in expoſing their ears to
view, and the regions about them; becauſe Hippo-
crates tells us, that “ when the vein behind the ear
happens to be cut, a man becomes an eunuch*.'
And the females were nothing backwarder in be-
holding and edifying by them; whereof thoſe who
had already uſed the means, looked about them with
great concern, in hopes of conceiving a ſuitable
offspring by ſuch a proſpect. Others, who ſtood
candidates for benevolence, found there a plentiful
choice, and were ſure to fix upon ſuch as diſcover-
ed the largeſt ears, that the breed might not dwin-
dle between them. Laſtly, the devouter fifters,
who looked upon all extraordinary dilatations of
that member, as protruſions of zeal, or fpiritual
cxcreſcences, were fure to honour every lead they
fat upon, as if they had been marks of grace ; but
eſpecially that of the preacher, whofe ears were
uſually of the prime magnitude ; which, upon that
account, he was very frequent and exact in expof-
ing with all advantages to the people: in his rheto.
rical paroxyſms, turning fometimes to hold forth the
one, and ſometimes to hold forth the other. Froin
which cuſtom, the whole operation of preaching
is to this very day, among their profeſſors, ftyled
by the phraſe of folding forth.
Such was the progreſs of the ſaints for anvan-
cing the fize of that member; and, it is thought,
the ſucceſs would have been every way anſwerabie,
if, in proceſs of time, a cruel king had not aroſe,
who raiſed a bloody perſecution againſt all ears-a-
*- Lib. de aere, locis, et aquis,
O 2
bove
160 A TALE OF A TUB.
bove a certain ſtandard f. Upon which, fome
were glad to hide their flouriſhing ſprouts in a black
border ; others crept wholly under a periwig; ſome
were ſlit, others cropped, and a great number ſliced
to the ſtumps. But of this more hereafter, in my
general bijtory of ears; which I deſign very ſpeedily
to beſtow upon the public.
From this brief ſurvey of the falling ſtate of ears
in the laſt age, and the ſmall care had to advance
their ancient growth in the preſent, it is manifeſt,
how little reaſon we can have to rely upon a hold
ſo ſhort, ſo weak, and fo.ſlippery; and that who-
ever deſires to catch mankind faſt, muſt have re-
courſe to ſome other methods. Now, he that will
examine human nature with circumſpection enough,
may diſcover ſeveral handles, whereof the fix* fenfes
afford one a-piece, befide a great number that are
ſcrewed to the paflions, and ſome few rivetted to
the intellect. Among theſe laft, curigſity is one,
and, of all others, affords the firmeſt graſp; curi-
ofity, that ſpur in the ſide, that bridle in the mouth,
that ring in the noſe, of a lazy and impatient, and
a grunting reader. By this handle it is, that an au-
thor ſhould ſeize upon his readers; which, as ſoon
as he hath once compaſſed, all reſiſtance and ſtrug-
gling are in vain : and they become his priſoners as
cloſe as he pleaſes, till wearineſs or dulnefs force
him to let go his gripe.
And therefore I, the author of this miraculous
treatiſe, having hitherto, beyond expectation, main
tained, by the aforeſaid handle, a firm hold upon
my gentle readers; it it with great reluctance, that
I am at length compelled to remit my graſp ; leav-
ing them in the perufal of what remains to that na-
tural ofcitancy inherent in the tribe. I can only af-
+ This was K. Charles II. who, at his reſtoration, turned out all
the diffencing teacher: that would noi conform,
* Including Scaliger's.
ſure
Sect. 11.
A TALE OF A TUB. 101
ſure thee, courteous reader, for both our comforts,
that my concern is altogether equal to thine, for my
unhappineſs in lofing, or millaying among my pa-
pers, the remaining part of theſe memoirs; which
conſiſted of accidents, turns, and adventures, both
new, agreeable, and ſurpriſing; and therefore cal-
culated, in all due points to the delicate taſte of
this our noble age. But, alas ! with my utmoſt en.
deavours, I have been able only to retain a few of
the heads. Under which there was a full account,
how Peter got a protection out of the King's-bench;
and of a reconcilement between Jack and him, up-
on a deſign they had in a certain rainy night, to tre-
pan brother Martin into a ſpunging-houſe, and there
trip him to the ſkin : how Martin, with much
ado, fhewed them both a fair pair of heels; how
a new warrant came out againſt Peter ; upon which,
how Jack left him in the lurch, ſtole his protection,
nnd maile uſe of it himſelf. How Jack's tatters came
into faſhion in court and city; how he got upon a
great horſe *, and eat cuſtarit. But the particulars
of all theſe, with ſeveral others, which have now
flid out of my memory, are loft beyond all hopes
of recovery. For which misfortune, leaving my
readers to condole with each other, as far as they
ſhall find it to agree with their ſeveral conſtitutions ;
but conjuring them by all the friendſhip that hath
paffed between us, from the title-page to this, not
|| In the reign of K. James II. the Preſbyterians, by the King's
invitation, joined with the Papiſts, against the church of England,
and addreſſed him for repeal of the penal laws and reft. The King,
by his diſpenſing power, gave liberty of conſcience, which both Paw
pifts and Preſbyterians made uſe of. But, upon the revolution, the
Papifts being down of courſe, the Preſbyterians freely continued their
aſſemblies, by virtue of King James's indulgence, before they had
a toleration by law. This, I believe, the author means, by Jack's
Healing Peter's protection, and making uſe of it himſelf.
• Sir Humphry Edwyn, a Preſbyterian, was fome years ago Lord
Mayor of London, and had the infolence to go in bis formalities to
a conventicle, with the enfigns of his office.
† Cuſtard is a famous diſh at a Lord Mayor's feat.
to
O3
162 A TALE OF A TUB.
to proceed ſo far as to injure their healths, for an
accident paſt reinedy: I now go on to the ceremo-
nial part of an accompliſhed writer; and therefore,
by a courtly modern, leaſt of all others to be omit:
ted.
THE CONCLUSION,
Ging too long is a cauſe of abortion as effectual,
though not ſo frequent, as going too ſhort; and
holds true eſpecially in the labours of the brain.
Well fare the heart of that noble Jeſuit I who firſt
adventured to confeſs in print, that books muſt be
ſuited to their ſeveral ſeafons, like dreſs, and diet,
and diverſions; and better fare our noble nation,
for refining upon this, among other French modes.
I am living faſt to ſee the time, when a book that
miſſes its tide, ſhall be neglected, as the incon by
day, or like mackarel a week after the ſeaſon. No
man hale ore nicely obſerved our climate, than
the bookfeller who bought the copy of this work.
Me knows to a tittle, what ſubjects will go beſt off
in a dry year, and which it is proper to expoſe fore-
moſt, when the weather-glaſs-is fallen to much rain.
When he had ſeen this treatife, and conſulted his
almanack upon it, he gave me to underſtand, that he
had maniféftly conſidered the two principal things,
which were the bulk and the ſubject ; and found, it
would never take, but after a long vacation; and
then only, in cafe it ſhould happen to be a hard
year for turnips. Upon which I deſired to know,
conſidering my urgent necefities, what he thought
might be acceptable this month. He looked weſt-
ward, and ſaid, " I doubt we ſhall have a fit of
“ bad weather; however, if you could prepare
Pere d'Orleans.
« Come
The Concluſion.
:
163
“ fome pretty little banter, (but not in verſe) or a
« finall treatiſe upon the
it would run like
“ wild-fire. But, if it hold up, I have already hired
an author to write ſomething againſt Dr. Bently,
“ which, I am ſure, will turn to account *."
At length we agreed upon this expedient, That
when a cuſtomer comes for one of theſe, and de-
fires in confidence to know the author; he will tell
hiin very privately, as a friend, naming which ever
of the wits ſhall happen to be that week in vogue ;
and if Durfey's laſt play ſhould be in courſe, I had
as lieve he may be the perſon as Congreve. This
I mention, becauſe I am wonderfully well acquaint-.
ed with the preſent reliſh of courteous readers; and
have often obſerved with fingular pleaſure, that a
fly driven from a honey-pot, will immediately with
very good appetite alight, and finiſh his meal on an
excrement.
I have one word to fay upon the ſubject of pro-
found writers, who are grown very numerous of
late ; and, I know very well, the judicious world
is reſolved to lift me in that number, 1-conceive
therefore, as to the buſineſs of being profound, that
it is with writers as with wells ; a perſon with good
eyes may fee to the bottom of the deepeſt, provided
any water be there; and often, whenthere is nothing
in the world at the bottom, beſides dryneſs and dirt,
though it be but a yard and a half under ground,
it fhall paſs however for wondrous deep, upon no
wifer a reaſon, than becauſe it is wondrous dark.
I am now trying an experiment, very frequent
among modern authors; which is, to write upon
nothing: when the ſubject is utterly exhauſted, to
let the pen ſtill move on; by ſome called the ghoſt
of wit, delighting to walk after the death of its bo-
When Dr. Prideaux brought the copy of his Connection of the
Old and New Teſtament to the bookſeller, he told him, it was a dry
fobject, and the printing could not ſafely be ventured, unleſs he could
enliven it with a little bumour,
dy.
164 A TALE OF A TUB.
dy. And, to ſay the truth, there ſeems to be no
part of knowledge in fewer hands, than that of
diſcerning when to have done. By the time that an
author hath written out a book, he and his readers
are become old acquaintants, and grow very loth to
part ; ſo that I have ſometimes known it to be in
writing, as in viſiting, where the ceremony of tak-
ing leave has employed more time than the whole
converſation before. The concluſion of a treatiſe
reſembles the concluſion of human life, which hath
fometimes been compared to the end of a feaſt;
where few are ſatisfied to depart, ut plenus vitæ con-
viva : for men will ſit down after the fulleſt meal,
though it be only to doze, or to ſleep out the reſt of
the day. But, in this latter, I differ extremely
from other writers; and ſhall be too proud, if, by
all iny labours, I can have any ways contributed to
the repoſe of mankind in times ſo turbulent and un-
quiet as theſe *. Neither do I think ſuch an em-
ployment ſo very alien from the office of a wit, as
ſome would ſuppoſe. For among a very polite na.
tion in Greece, there were the ſame temples built
and conſecrated to Sleep and the Muſes, between
which two deities they believed the ſtricteſt friend-
ſhip was eſtabliſhed +
I have one concluding favour to requeſt of my
reader, That he will not expect to be equally di-
yerted and informed by every line, or every page
of this diſcourſe; but give fome allowance to the
author's ſpleen, and ſhort fits or intervals of dul-
neſs, as well as his own; and lay it ſeriouſly to his
conſcience, whether, if he were walking the ſtreets
in dirty weather, or a rainy day, he would allow
it fair dealing in folks at their caſe from a window
to criticiſe his gait, and ridicule his dreſs at ſuch a
juncture.
* This was written before the peace of Ryſwick, which was ſign-
ed in September 1697.
+ Trezenii, Paufan, I. 2,
In
The Concluſion.
165
reſume my pen.
In my diſpoſure of employments of the brain, I
have thought fit to make invention the maſter, and
to give method and reaſon the office of its lacqueys.
The cauſe of this diſtribution was, from obferving
it iny peculiar cafe to be often under a temptation
of being witty upon occaſions, where I could be
neither wiſe nor ſound, nor any thing to the matter
in hand. And I am too much a fervant of the
modern way, to neglect any ſuch opportunities, what-
ever pains or improprieties I may be at to introduce
them. For I have obſerved, that from a laborious
collection of feven hundred thirty-eight fiowers,
and ſhining hints of the beſt modern authors, digeft-
ed with great reading into my book of common-
places; I have not been able, after five years, to
draw, hook, or force into common converſation,
any inore than a dozen. Of which dozen, the one
moiety failed of ſucceſs, by being dropped among
unſuitable company; and the other coſt me ſo ma-
ny ſtrains, and traps, and ambages to introduce,
that I at length reſolved to give it over. Now, this
diſappointment, (to diſcover a ſecret), I muſt own,
gave me the firſt hint of ſetting up for an author;
and I have ſince found among ſome particular
friends, that it is become a very general coinplaint,
and has produced the ſame effects upon many o-
thers. For I have remarked many a towardly word
to be wholly neglected or deſpiſed in diſcourſe, which
hath pafied very finoothly, with ſome confidera
tion and eſteein, after its preferment and fanction
in print. But now fince, by the liberty and encou-
ragement of the preſs, I am grown abſolute maſter
of the occaſions and opportunities to expoſe the ta-
lents I have acquired; I already diſcover, that the
iſſues of my obſervanda begin to grow too large for
the receipts. Therefore I ſhall here pauſe a while;
till I find, by feeling the world's pulſe and my own,
that it will be of abſolute néceflity for us both to
А
$
[ r66 1
*****
A full and true Account of the BATTLE
fought laſt Friday, between the Ancient
and the MODERN Books in St. James's
Library.
The BOOKSELLER to the READER,
HE folowing diſcourſe, as it is unqueſtionably
of the ſame author, fo it ſeems to have been
written about the ſame time with the former ; I
mean, the year 1697, when the famous diſpute was
on foot, about ancient and modern learning. The
controverſy took its riſe from an effay of Sir Wil-
liam Temple's upon that fubject; which was an-
fwered by W. Wotton, B. D. with an appendix
by Dr. Bentley, endeavouring to deſtroy the credit
of Æſop and Phalaris for authors, whom Sir Wil-
liam Temple had, in the effay before mentioned,
highly commended. In that appendix, the Doctor.
falls hard upon a new edition of Phalaris, put out
by the Honourable Charles Boyle (now Earl of
Orrery); to which Mr. Boyle replied at large with
great learning and wit; and the Doctor volu-
* Laminouſly rejoined. In this diſpute, the town
highly refented to fee a perſon of Sir William
Temple's character and merits roughly uſed by the
two reverend gentlemen aforeſaid, and without
any manner of provocation. At length, there
appearing no end of the quarrel, our author tells
ais, that the BOOKS in St. James's library, look-
ing upon themfelves as parties principally concern-
ed, took up the controverſy, and came to a deci-
Give battle; but the manufcript, by the injúry of
fortune
.
The Preface of the Author.
167
fortune or weather, being in ſeveral places imper-
fect, we cannot learn to which fide the victory
fell.
I muſt warn the reader, to beware of applying
to perfons, what is here meant only of books in
the moſt literal ſenſe. So, when Virgil is men-
tioned, we are not to underſtand the perſon of a
famous poet called by that name; but only cer-
tain ſheets of paper, bound up in leather, con-
taining in print the works of the ſaid poet : And
fo of the reit.
*************************
The PREFACE of the AUTHOR.
SAtire is a fort of glaſs, wherein beholders doger
nerally diſcover every body's face but their
own; which is the chief reaſon for that kind
reception it meets with in the world, and that ſo
very few are offended with it. But if it ſhould
happen otherwiſe, the danger is not great; and I
have learned from long experience, never to ap-
prehend miſchief from thoſe underſtandings I have
been able to provoke. For anger and fury, though
they add ſtrength to the finews of the body, yet are
found to relax thoſe of the mind, and to render all
its efforts feeble and impotent.
There is a brain that will endure but one fcume?
ming ; let the owner gather it with diſcretion, and
manage his little ſtock with huſbandry. But of all
things, let him beware of bringing it under the
lalb of his betters; becauſe that will make it all
bubble up into impertinence, and he will find no
new ſupply: Wit without knowledge being a fort
of cream, which gathers in a night to the top, and
by a ſkilful hand may be foon whipped into froth;
but once fcummed away, what appears underneath,
will be fit for nothing, but to be thrown to the hogs.
A
$
[ 1687
A full and true Account of the BATTLE
fought laſt Friday, Oc*
WHoever examines with due circumſpection in-
to the annual records of time, will find it re-
marked, that war is the child of pride, and pride
to
* The Battle of the Books took its riſe from a controverſy between
Sir William Temple and Mr. Wotton ; a controverſy which made
much noiſe, and employed many pens towards the latter end of the
laſt century. This humorous treatile is drawn up in an heroic
comic ſtile, in which Swift, with great wit and Ipirit, gives the
victory to the former, The general plan is excellent, but pari.u.
Jar parts are defective. The frequent charms puzzle and interrupt
the narrative : They neither convey any larent ideas; nor point out
any diſtinct or occult ſarcaſms. Some characters are barely touched
upon, which might have been extended, others are enlarged, which
might have been contracted. The name of Horace is inſerted;
and Virgil is introduced only for an opportunity of comparing his
tranſlator Dryden, to the lady in a lobſter; a mouse under a
canopy of fate; and to a fh ivelled beau within the pent- bouſe of a full.
bortomed periwig. Theſe fimiles carry the true ftamp of ridicule.
But rancour muſt be very prevalent in the heart of an author, who
could overlcok the merits of Dryden; many of whoſe dedications
and preface are as fine compoſitions, and, and as juſt pieces of cri-
ticióm, as any in our language. The tranſlation of Virgil was a
work of haſte and indigence. Dryden was equal to the undertaking,
but upforte: nate during the conduct of it. The two chief heroes
among the modern generals, are Wotton and Bentley. Their fi-
gures are diſplayed in the moſt diſadvantageous attitudes, The for-
mer is defcrihed, “ full of ſpleen, dulneſs, and ill manners." The
latter is repreſented. “ tall, without ſhape or comeliacls; large,
« without ſtrength or proportion.". The battle, which is
maintained by the ancients with great ſuperiority of ſtrength, though
not of numbers, ends with the demolition of Bentley, and his friend
Wotton, by :he lance of the Honourable Charles Boyle, youngeſt
Son of Roger the ſecond Earl of Orrery, and father of the pre ent
Earl. He was a fellow of the royal fociety, and invented the aſtro-
domical machine called the Orrery, Orrery,
the
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 169
the daughter of riches t. The former of which ar-
ſertions may be foon granted; but one cannot ſo
eaſily ſubſcribe to the latter. For Pride is nearly re-
lated to Beggary and Want, either by father or mo-
ther, and lometimes by both: and, to ſpeak natu-
rally, it very feldom happens among men to fall out,
when all have enough ; invaſions uſually travelling
from north to fouth, that is to ſay, from Poverty to
Plenty. The moſt ancient and natural grounds of
quarrels are Luft and Avarice; which, though we
may allow to be brethren or collateral branches of
Pride, are certainly the iſſues of Want.
For to
ſpeak in the phraſe of writers upon politics, we may
obſerve in the republic of Dogs, which in its origi-
nal ſeems to be an inſtitution of the many, that the
whole ſtate is ever in the profoundeſt peace, after a
full mcal; and that civil broils ariſe among them,
when it happens for one great bone to be ſeized on
by ſome leading dog ; who either divides it among
the few, and then it falls to an oligarchy; or keeps
it to himſelf, and then it runs up to a tyranny. The
ſame reaſoning alſo holds place among them, in
thoſe diffenfions we behold upon a turgeſcency in
any of their females. For, the right of poffeffion
lging in common, (it being inpoflible to eſtabliſh a
property in ſo delicate a caſe,) jealouſies and ſuſpi-
cions do fo abound, that the whole commonwealth
of that ſtreet is reduced to a manifeſt ſtate of war,
of every citizen againſt every citizen ; [ill fome one
of more courage, conduct, or fortune than the reſt,
ſeizes and enjoys the prize : Upon which naturally
ariſes plenty of heart-burning, andenvy and fnarling
againſt the happy dog. Again, if we look upon any
of thefe republics engaged in a foreign war, either
of invaſion or defence, we ſhall find the ſame rea-
+ Riches produceth pride: pride is war's ground, &c. Vid.
Epkem, de Mary Clarke. t. edir. now called Wingºs preet alma-
nack, and printed by J. Roberts for the company of ſtationers,
VOL.I.
P
ſoning
170
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
ſoning will ſerve as to the grounds and occaſions
of each; and that Poverty or Want, in fome degree
orother, (whether real, or in opinion, which makes
no alteration in the caſe), has a great ſhare, as well
ac Pride, on the part of the aggreſſor.
Now, whoever will pleaſe to take this fcheme,
and either reduce or adapt it to an intellectual ſtate,
or commonwealth of learning, will ſoon diſcover
the first ground of diſagreement between the two
great parties at this tine in arms; and may form
juſt concluſions upon the merits of either cauſe.
But the iſſue or events of this war are not ſo eaſy
to conje&ure at, for the preſent quarrel is ſo in-
flamed by the warm heads of either faction, and
the pretenſions ſomewhere or other fo exorbitant, as
not to admit the leaſt overtures of accommodation.
This quarrel firſt began, as I have heard it affirmed
by an old dweller in the neighbourhood, about a
imall fpot of ground, lying and being upon one of
the two tops of the hill Parnaffus ; the higheſt and
largeſt of which had, it ſeems, been, time out of
mind, in quiet poffeffion of certain tenants called
the Ancients; and the other was held by the Mo-
derns. But theſe diſliking their preſent ſtation,
fent certain ambaſſadors to the Ancients, complain-
ing of a great nuiſance; how the height of that
part
of Parnafſus quite ſpoiled the proſpect of
theirs, eſpecially towards the eaſt; and therefore,
to avoid a war, offered thein the choice of this al-
ternative, either that the Ancients would pleaſe
to remove themſelves and their effects down
to the lower fummity, which the Moderns would
graciouſly ſurrender to them, and advance in
their place; or elfe, that the ſaid Ancients will
give leave to the Moderns to come with ſhovels and
mattocks, and level the ſaid hill as low as they ſhall
think it convenient. To which the Ancients made
anſwer, How little they expected ſuch a meſſage
as this, from a colony whom they had admitted,
out
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS,
171
out of their own free grace, to ſo near a neigh-
bourhood: That, as to their own ſeat, they were
Aborigines of it; and therefore to talk with them
of a removal or ſurrender, was a language they did
not underſtand : That, if the height of the hill on
their fide ſhortened the proſpect of the Moderns,
it was a diſadvantage they could not help; but de-
fired them to conſider, whether that injury (if it
be any) were not largely recompenſed by the Abade
and Jbelter it afforded them: That, as to the le-
velling or digging down, it was either folly or ig-
norance to propoſe it, if they did, or did not know,
how that ſide of the hill was an entire rock, which
would break their tools and hearts without
any
da-
mage to itſelf: That they would therefore adviſe
the Modorns, rather to raiſe their own ſide of the
hill, than dream of pulling down that of the An-
cients ; to the former of which they would not on-
ly give licence, but alſo largely contribute. All
this was rejected by the Moderus, with much in-
dignation; who ſtill inſiſted upon one of the two
expedients. And fo this difference broke out into
a long and obſtinate war; maintained on the one
part by reſolution, and by the courage of certain
leaders and allies; but on the other, by the great-
neſs of their number, upon all defeats affording
continual recruits. In this quarrel, whole rivulets
of ink have been exhauſted, and the virulence of
both parties enormoufly augmented. Now, it muſt
here be underſtood, that ink is the great miffive
weapon in all battles of the learned, which conveyed
through a ſort of engine, called a quill, infinite
numbers of theſe are darted at the enemy, by the
valiant on each ſide, with equal ſkill and violence,
as if it were an engagement of porcupines. This
malignant liquor was compounded by the en-
gineer who invented it, of two ingredients, which
are gall and copperas; by its bitterneſs and venom
to ſuit in ſome degree, as well as to foment, the
genius
P2.
172
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
genius of the combatants. And as the Grecians,
after an engagement, when they could not agree
about the victory, were wont to ſet up trophies on
both ſides; the beaten party being content to be at the
fame expence to keep itſelf in countenance, (a laud.
able and ancient cuſtom, happily revived of late in
the art of war); ſo the learned, after a ſharp and
bloody diſpute, do on both ſides hang out their
trophies too, whichever comes by the worſt. Theſe
trophies have largely inſcribed on them the merits
of the cauſe; a full impartial account of ſuch a
battle, and how the victory fell clearly to the party
that ſet them up. They are known to the world
under ſeveral names; as Diſputes, Arguments, Re-
ioinders, Brief Confiderations, Anſwers, Replies,
Remarks, Reflections, Objections, Confutations. For a
very few days they are fixed up in all public places,
either by themſelves or their repreſentatives *, for
paſſengers to gaze at: From whence the chiefeſt
and largeſt are removed to certain magazines, they
call libraries, there to remain in a quarter pur-
poſely aſſigned them, and from thenceforth begin
to be called books of controverſy.
In theſe books is wonderfully inſtilled and pre-
ſerved the ſpirit of each warrior, while he is alive ;
and after his death, his ſoul tranſmigrates there, to
inform them. This, at leaſt, is the more common
opinion. But I believe, it is with libraries as with other
cæmeteries, where ſome philoſophers affirm, that a
certain fpirit, which they call brutum hominis, hovers
over the monument, till the body is corrupted,
and turns to duſt or to worms, but then vaniſhes or
diffolves : So, we may fay, a reftleſs fpirit haunts
over every rook, till duft or worms have ſeized upon
it; which to ſome may happen in a few days, but
to others later. And therefore books of controverſy
being of all others haunted by the moſt diſorderly
Their title-pages.
ſpirits
:
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
173
Spirits, have always been confined in a ſeparate
lodge from the reft; and, for fear of mutual vio-
lence againſt each other, it was thought prudent by
our anceſtors, to bind them to the peace with
ſtrong iron chains, of which invention the ori-
ginal occaſion was this. When the works of Scotus
firſt came out, they were carried to a certain great
library, and had logings appointed them : But this
author was no ſooner ſettled than he went to viſit
his maſter Ariſtotle ; and there both concerted to-
gether to ſeize Plato by main force, and turn him
out froin his ancient ſtation among the divines,
where he had peaceably dwelt near eight hundred
years. The attempt ſucceeded, and the two u-
lurpers have reigned ever ſince in his ftead. But
to maintain quiet for the future, it was decreed,
that all polemics of the larger ſize fhould be held faſt
with a chain.
By this expedient, the public peace of libraries
might certainly have been preſerved, if a new fpe-
cies of controverſial books had not aroſe of late
years, inſtinct with a moft malignant fpirit, from
the war above-mentioned, between the learned, 2-
bout the higher ſummity of Parnaſſus.
When thoſe books were firſt admitted into the
public libraries, I remember to have faid upon oc-
cafions, to ſeveral perſons concerned, how I was
ſure they would create broils wherever they came,
unleſs a world of care were taken : and therefore
I adviſed, that the champions of each ſide ſhould
be coupled together, or otherwiſe mixed; that,
like the blending of contrary poiſons, their malig.
nity might be employed among themſelves. And
it ſeerns I was neither an ill prophet, nor an ill
counſellor ; for it was nothing elſe but the neglect
of this caution which gave occafion to the terrible
fight that happened on Friday laſt between the An-
cient and Modern books in the King's library. Now,
becauſe the talk of this battle is to freſh in every
P3
body's
174
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS,
body's mouth, and the expectation of the town fo
great, to be informed in the particulars; I being
pofleſſed of all qualifications requiſite in an hiſtorian,
and retained by neither party, have reſolved to
comply with the urgent importunity of my friends,
by writing down a full impartial account thereof.
The guardian of the regal library, a perſon of
great valour, but chiefly renowned for his humani.
ty *, had been a fierce champion for the Moderns ;
and, in an engagement upon Parnaſſus, had vow-
ed, with his own hands to knock down two of the
Ancient chiefs, who guarded a ſmall paſs on the fu,
perior rock; but endeavouring to climb up, was
cruelly obſtructed by his own unhappy weight, and
tendency towards his centre : A quality to which
thoſe of the Modern party are extreme ſubject : for
being light-headed, they have in ſpeculation a won-
derful agility, and conceive nothing too high for
them to inount; but in reducing to practice, diſ-
cover a mighty preſſure about their poſteriors and
their heels. Having thus failed in his deſign, the
diſappointed champion bore a cruel rancour to the
Ancients; which he refolved to gratify, by ſhewing
all marks of his favour to the books of their adver-
faries, and lodging them in the faireſt apartments ;
when at the ſame time, whatever book had the bold
nefs to own itſelf for an advocate of the Ancients,
was buried alive in fome obfure corner, and threat-
ened, upon the leaſt diſpleaſure, to be turned out
of door. Beſides, it ſo happened, that about this
time there was a ſtrange confuſion of place among
all the books in the library; for which ſeveral rea-
fons were afligned. Some imputed it to a great
heap of learned duft, which a perverſe wind blew
}
• The Honourable Mr. Boyle, in the preface to his edition of
Phalaris, fays, he was refuſed a manuſcript by the library-keeper,
pro folita bumanitate fua.
ibid. Dr. Bentley was thca library-keeper. The two ancients
were Phalaris and Æfop.
off
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 175
#
off' from a ſhelf of Moderns into the keeper's eyes.
Others affirmed, he had a humour to pick the
worms out of the ſchoolmen, and ſwallow them freſh
and faſting; whereof ſome fell upon his ſpicen, and
fome climbed up into his head, to the great pertur-
bation of both. And laſtly, others maintained,
that, by walking much in the dark about the libra-
ry, he had quite loſt the ſituation of it out of his
head; and therefore, in replacing his books, he was
apt to miſtake, and clap Des Cartes next to Ari-
ſtotle; poor Plato had got between Hobbes and
the Seven wiſe maſters; and Virgil was hemmed in
with Dryden on one fide, and Withers on the o-
ther.
Mean while, thoſe books that were advocates for
the Moderns, chofe out one from among them, to
make a progreſs through the whole library, exa-
mine the number and ſtrength of their party, and
concert their affairs. This meſſenger performed all
things very induſtriouſly, and brought back with
him a liſt of their forces, in all fifty thouſand, con-
fifting chiefly of light horſe, heavy-armed foot, and
mercenaries : whereof the foot were, in general but
forrily armed, and worſe clad; their horſes large,
but extremely out of caſe and heart. However,
ſome few, by trading among the Ancients, had fur-
niſhed themſelves tolerably enough.
While things were in this ferment, Diſcord grew
extremely high, hot words paſſed on both ſides,
and ill blood was plentifully bred. Here a ſolitary
Ancient, ſqueezed up among a whole ſhelf of Mo-
derns, offered fairly to diſpute the caſe, and to
prove, by manifeſt reaſon, that the priority was
due to them, from long poffeffion, and in regard
of their prudence, antiquity, and above all, their
great merits toward the Moderns. But theſe de-
nied the premiſſes ; and ſeemed very much to won-
der, how the Ancients could pretend to inſiſt upon
their antiquity, when it was ſo plain, (if they went
to
176 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
to that), that the Moderns were much the more aria
cient * of the two. As for any obligations they
owed to the Ancients, they renounced them all.
" It is true," ſaid they, we are informed ſoine
" few of our party have been ſo mean to borrow
" their ſubſiſtence from you. But the reft, infi-
“ nitely the greater number, (and eſpecially we
“ French and Engliſh), were ſo far from ſtooping
to ſo baſe an example, that there never paffed,
“ till this very hour, fix words between us. For
our horſes were of our own breeding, our arms
" of our own forging, and our cloaths of our own
cutting out and ſewing." Plato was by chance
upon the next ſhelf, and obſerving thoſe that ſpoke
to be in the ragged plight mentioned a while ago;
their jades lean and foundered, their weapons of
rotten wood, their armour ruſty, and nothing but
rags underneath; he laughed loud, and, in his
pleaſant way, fivore,
By
hre believed
ir them.”
Now, the Moderns had not proceeded in their
late negotiation, with ſecrecy enough to eſcape the
notice of the enemy. For thoſe advocates who had
begun the quarrel, by ſetting firſt on foot the diſ-
pute of precedency, talked ſo loud of coming to a
battle, that Temple happened to overhear them,
and gave immediate intelligence to the Ancients;
who thereupon drew up their ſcattered troops
toge-
ther, reſolving to act upon the defenſive. Upon
which ſeveral of the Moderns fled over to their par-
ty, and among the reſt Temple himſelf. This
'Temple having been educated and long converſed
among the Ancients, was of all the Moderns their
greateſt favourite, and became their greateſt cham-
pion.
Things were at this criſis, when a material acci-
dent fell out. For, upon the higheſt corner of a
• According to the modern paradox,
large
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
177
large window, there dwelt a certain Spider, ſwollen
up to the firſt magnitude by the deſtruction of in-
finite numbers of flies, whoſe ſpoils lay frattered
before the gates of his palace, like human bones
before the cave of ſome giant. The avenues to his
caſtle were guarded with turnpikes and paliſadoes,
all after the modern way of fortification. After
you had paſſed ſeveral courts, you came to the
centre, wherein you might behold the conſtable him-
felf in his own lodgings, which had windows front-
ing to each avenue, and ports to fally out upon all
occaſions of prey or defence. In this manſion he
had for ſome time dwelt in peace and plenty, with-
out danger to his perfon by /wallows from above, or
to his palace by brooms from below; when it was
the pleaſure of Fortune to conduct thither a wan-
dering bee, to whoſe curioſity a broken pane in the
glaſs had diſcovered itſelf; and in he went; where
expatiating a while, he at laſt happened to alight
upon one of the outward walls of the ſpider's cita-
del: which yielding to the unequal weight, funk
down to the very foundation. Thrice he endea-
'voured to force his paffage, and thrice the centre
ſhook. The ſpider within, feeling the terrible con-
vulſion, ſuppoſed at firſt, that Nature was ap-
proaching to her final diffolution; or elſe, that
Beelzebub, with all his legions, was come.to re-
venge the death of many thouſands of his ſubjects,
whom his enemy bad llain and devoured. Howe
ever, he at length valiantly reſolved to iffue forthi
and meet his fate. Mean while the bee had acquit-
ted himſelf of his toils, and, poſted ſecurely at
fome diſtance, was employed in cleanfing his wings,
and diſengaging them from the ragged remnants
of the cobweb. By this time the Spider was ad-
ventured out;; when, beholding the chaſms, the
ruins, and dilapidations of his fortreſs, he was ve-
ry near at his wit's end. He ſtormed and fwore
like a madman, and ſwelled till he was ready to
burſt.
178 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
«
burſt. At length, cafting his eye upon the bee;.
and wiſely gathering cauſes from events, (for they
knew each other by fight, “ A plague fplit you,
ſaid he, “ for a giddy ſon of a whore. Is it you,
" with a vengeance, that have made this litter
here? Could not you look before you, and be
“ d-n'd? Do you think I have nothing elſe to
do, (in the devil's name), but to mend and re-
" pair after your arfe ?" " Good words, friend,
(faid the bee, having now pruned himſelf, and be-
" ing difpofed to droll); “ I'll give you my hand
" and word to come near your kennel no more:
"I was never in ſuch a confounded pickle ſince I
was born." " Sirrah,” replied the ſpider, “ if it
were not for breaking an old cuſtom in our fa-
" mily, never to ſtir abroad againſt an enemy,
" I ſhould come and teach you better manners.
“ I pray have patience,” ſaid the bee," or you will
ſpend your ſubſtance; and, for aught I fee, you
“ may ſtand in need of it all towards the repair of
your houſe.” Rogue, rogue," replied the ſpider ;
yet methinks you ſhould
have more refpect to a .
« perfon, whom all the world allows to be fo much
“ By my troth," ſaid the bee,
" the compariſon will amount to a very good jeft;
" and you will do me a favour, to let me know the
" reafons that all the world is pleaſed to uſe in fo
hopeful a diſpute.” At this, the ſpider, having
fwelled himſelf into the ſize and poſture of a dif-
putant, began his argument in the true ſpirit of
controverſy, with reſolution to be heartily fcurri-
lous and angry; to urge on his own reaſons, with-
out the leaſt regard to the anfwers or objections of
his oppolite, and fully predetermined in his mind
againſt all conviction.
“ Not to diſparage myſelf,” ſaid he," by the
compariſon with ſuch a raſcal, what art thou
" but a vagabond, without houſe or home, with-
out ſtock or inheritance ; born to no poffeffion
66. of
your betters,
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
179
" of your own, but a pair of wings and a drone-
pipe ? Your livelihood is an univerſal plunder
upon nature; a freebooter over fields and gardens;
“ and, for the ſake of ſtealing, will rob a nettle as
readily as a violet. Whereas I am a domeſtic a.
" nimal, furniſhed with a native ſtock within my-
“ felf. This large caſtle (to fhew my improve-
provements in the mathematics) is all built with
my own hands, and the materials extracted alto-
gether out of my own perſon.”
“ I am glad,” anſwered the bee,
to hear you
grant at leaſt, that I am come honeſtly by my
wings and my voice: for then, it ſeems, I am
obliged to Heaven alone for my flights and my
" muſic; and Providence would never have be-
• ſtowed on me two ſuch gifts, without deſigning
" them for the nobleſt ends. I viſit indeed all the
“ flowers and bloſſoms of the field and garden :
" but whatever I collect from thence, enriches
“ myſelf, without the leaſt injury to their beauty,
“ their ſinell, or their taſte. Now, for you, and
your ikill in architecture and other mathematics,
“ I have little to ſay. In that building of yours,
“ there might, for aught I know, have been la-
« bour and method enough; but, by woful expe-
" rience for us both, it is plain, the inaterials are
naught; and I hope you will henceforth take
warning, and confider duration and matter, as
"s well as method and art. You boaſt indeed of
being obliged to no other creature, but of draw-
“ ing and ſpinning out all from yourſelf; that is
to ſay, if we may judge of the liquor in the ver-
“ fel by, what iſſues out, you poſſeſs a good plenti-
“ ful ſtore of dirt and poiſon in your breaſt. And
though I would by no means lefſen or diſparage
your genuine ſtock of either, yet, I doubt, you
are ſomewhat obliged for an increaſe of both to
little foreign affiſtance. Your inherent portion
“ of dirt does not fail of acquiſitions, by fweepings,
of exhaled
a
180 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
exhaled from below; and one infect furniſhes
" you with a ſhare of poiſon to deſtroy another.
“ So that, in ſhort, the queſtion comes all to this,
" Whether is the nobler being of the two, that
" which, by a lazy contemplation of four inches
“ round, by an overweening pride, feeding and
engendering on itſelf, turns all into excrement
“ and venom, producing nothing at all, but fly-
“ bane and a cobweb; or that, which, by an uni-
“ verſal range, with long ſearch, much ſtudy, true
“judgement, and diſtinction of things, brings
" home honey and wax?"
This diſpute was managed with ſuch eagerneſs,
clamour and warmth, that the two parties of books
in arms below ſtood filent a while, waiting in ſui-
pence what would be the iſſue. Which was not
long undetermined: for the bee, grown impatient
at ſo much loſs of time, fled ſtraight away to a bed
of roſes, without looking for a reply; and left
the ſpider like an orator collected in himſelf, and
juſt prepared to burſt out.
It happened upon this emergency, that Æſop
broke ſilence firſt. He had been of late moſt bar-
barouſly treated by a ſtrange effect of the regent's
humanity, who had torn off his title-page, forely
defaced one half of his leaves, and chained him
faſt among a ſhelf of Moderns *; where foon dif-
covering how high the quarrel was like to proceed,
he tried all his arts, and turned himſelf to a thou-
ſand forms. At length, in the borrowed ſhape of
an aſs, the regent miſtook him for a Modern; by
which means, he had time and opportunity to e-
ſcape to the Ancients, juſt when the ſpider and the
bee were entering into their conteſt to which he
gave his attention with a world of pleaſure ; and
when it was ended, ſwore in the loudeſt key, that,
in all his life, he had never known two caſes fo pa-
Bentley, who denied the antiquity of Ælip. See note, p. 174.
rallel
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
180
rallel and adapt to each other, as that in the win-
dow, and this upon the ſhelves. “ The difpu-
tants,” ſaid he, “have admirably managed the
“ difpute between them, have taken in the full
“ ſtrength of all that is to be ſaid on both ſides,
" and exhauſted the ſubſtance of every argument
pro and con.
It is but to adjuſt the reaſonings of
“ both to the prefent quarrel, then to compare
“ and apply the labours and fruits of each, as the
“ bee has learnedly deduced them; and we ſhall
“ find the concluſion full plain and cloſe upon the
“ Moderns and us. For, pray Gentlerhen, was e-
“ ver any thing ſo modern as the ſpider, in his air,
“ his turns, and his paradoxes? He argues in the
“ behalf of you his brethren, and himſelf, with ma-
ny boaſtings of his native ſtock, and great ge-
nius ; that he ſpins and ſpits wholly from him-
“ felf, and ſcorns to own any obligation or affift-
ance from without. Then he diſplays to you
“ his great ſkill in architecture, and improvement
“ in the mathematics. To all this, the bee, as an
“ advocate retained by us the Ancients, thinks fit
to anſwer, That if one may judge of the great
“ genius or inventions of the Moderns, by what
“ they have produced, you will hardly have coun-
tenance to bear you out in boaſting of either.
“ Erect your ſchemes with as much method and
“ ikill as you pleaſe; yet if the materials be no-
thing but dirt, ſpun out of your own intrails,
(the guts of modern brains,) the edifice will con-
“ clude at laſt in a cobweb; the duration of which
“ like that of other ſpiders webs, may be imputed
" to their being forgotten, or neglected, or hid in
a corner. For any thing elſe of genuine that
* the Moderns may pretend to, I cannot recollect;
“ unleſs it be a large vein of wrangling and ſatire,
" much of a nature and ſubſtance with the ſpider's
" poiſon; which, however they pretend to fpit
· wholly out of theinfelves, is improved by the
VOL.1.
e Q
- ſame
182 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
“ fame arts, by feeding upon the infects and ver-
“ min of the age. As for us the Ancients, we are
content, with the bee, to pretend to nothing of
our own, beyond our wings and our voice ; that
“ is to ſay, our flights and our language. For the
reſt, whatever we have got, has been by infinite
“ labour and ſearch, and ranging through every
corner of Nature. The difference is, that, in-
“ ſtead of dirt and poiſon, we have rather chofen
to fill our hives with honey and wax; thus fur-
niſhing mankind with the two nobleſt of things,
“ which are, ſweetneſs and light.”
It is wonderful to conceive the tumult ariſen a-
mong the books, upon the cloſe of this long deſcant
of Æfop. Both parties took the hint, and height-
ened their animofities fo on a ſudden, that they
reſolved it ſhould come to a battle. Inmediately
the two main bodies withdrew under their ſeveral
enfigns, to the farther parts of the library, and
there entered into cabals and conſults upon the
preſent emergency. The Moderns were in very
warm debates upon the choice of their leaders : and
nothing leſs than the fear impending from the e-
nemies, could have kept them from mutinies upon
this occaſion. The difference was greateſt among
the horſe, where every private trosper pretended to
the chief command, from Taffo and Milton, to
Dryden and Withers. The light horſe were com-
manded by Cowley and Deſpreaux * There came
the bowmen under their valiant leaders, Des Cartes,
Gaffendi, and Hobbes; whoſe ſtrength was ſuch,
that they could ſhoot their arrows beyond the at-
moſphere, never to fall down again, but turn, like
that of Evander, into meteors, or, like the canon-
ball, into ſtars. Paracelſus brought a ſquadron of
Atink-pot-flingets, from the ſnowy mountains of
Rhætia. There came a vaſt body of dragoons of
* More commonly known by the name of Evilear,
different
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 183
covery much inffted on by the advocates for the Moderös, and cicept-
different nations, under the leading of Harvey,
their great Aga ti part armed with ſcythes, the
weapons of death ; part with lances and long knives,
al ſteeped in poifon; part ſhot bullets of a moſt ma-
Lignant nature, and uſed white powder, which in-
fallibly killed without report. There came ſeveral
bodies of heavy-armrd foot, all niercenaries, under
the enligns of Guicciardine, Davila, Polydore,
Virgil, Buchanan, Mariana, Camden, and others.
The engineers were commanded by Regiomontanus
and Wilkins. The reſt were a confuſed multitude,
led by Scotus, Aquinas, and Bellarmine; of migh-
ty bulk and ſtature, but without either arms, cou-
rage, or diſcipline. In the laft place, came infi-
nite ſwarms of calones, a diſorderly rout led by
L'Eſtrange ; rogues and raggamuffins, that follow
the camp for nothing but the plunder; all without
coats to cover them f.
The army of the Ancients was much fewer in
number. Homer led the horſe, and Pindar the
light horſe; Euclid was chief engineer; Plato and
Ariftotle commanded the bowmen; Herodotus and
Livy the foot ; Hippocrates the dragoons; the allies
led by Voffius, and Temple brought up the rear.
All things violently tending to a decifive battle,
Fame, who much frequented, and had a large a-
partment formerly affigned her in the regal library,
fied up ſtrait to Jupiter, to whom ſhe delivered a
faithful account of all that pafled between the two
+ Dr. Harvey, who diſcovered the circulation of the blood'; a dif.
ed againſt as falfe by Sir William Temple, in his eſſay, p. 44. 45.
* Calones. By calling this diſorderly rout calones, the author points
both his fatire and contempt againſt alt forts of mercenary fcriblers,
who write as they are commanded by the leaders and patrons of fedt
tion, faction, corruption, and every evil work. They are styled
calones, becauſe they are the meaneſt and most deſpicable of all wri-
ters, as the calowes, whether belonging to the army or private fami-
lies, were the meanelt of all laves or ſervants whatſoever.
† Theſe are pamphlets, which are nat bound or covered.
Q²
parties
184 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
parties below; for among the Gods ſhe always tells
truth. Jove, in great concern, convokes a coun-
cl in the Milky Way. The fenate afſembled : he
declares the occaſion of convening them; a bloody
battle juſt impendent between two mighty armies
of Ancient and Modern creatures, called books,
wherein the celeſtial intereſt was but too deeply
concerned. Momus, the patron of the Moderns,
inade an excellent ſpeech in their favour ; which
was anſwered by Pallas, the protectreſs of the An-
cients. The aſſembly was divided in their affec-
tions; when Jupiter commanded the book of Fate
to be laid before him. Immediately were brouglit
by Mercury, three large volumes in folio, con-
taining memoirs of all things paſt, prefent, and
to come. The claſps were of ſilver, double gilt ;
the covers of celeſtial turkey-leather, and the paper
ſuch as here on earth might almoſt paſs for vellum.
Jupiter, having ſilently read the decree, would
communicate the import to none, but preſently
ſhut up the book.
Without the doors of this aſſembly, there attend.
ed a vaſt number of light, niinble gods, menial
ſervants to Jupiter. Theſe are his miniſtering in-
ftruments in all affairs below. They travel in a ca-
ravan, more or leſs together, and are faſtened to
each other, like a link of galley-ſlaves, by a light
chain, which paffes from them to Jupiter's great
toe. And yet, in receiving or delivering a mef-
fage, they may never approach above the loweſt
ttep of his throne, where he and they whiſper to
each other through a long hollow trunk. Theſe
deities are called by mortal men, Accidunts or E-
vents; but the gods call them Second Cauſes. Ju-
piter having delivered his meſſage to a certain num-
ber of theſe divinities, they flew immediately down
to the pinnacle of the regal library, and, conſult-
ing a few minutes, entered unſeen, and diſpoſed
the parties according to their orders.
Mean
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 185
Mean while, Momus, fearing the worſt, and call-
ing to mind an ancient prophecy, which bore.no
very good face to his children the Moderns, bent
his Hight to the region of a malignant deity, called
Criticiſm. She dwelt on the top
of a ſnowy moun-
tain in Nova Zembla. There Momus found her
extended in her den, upon the fpoils of number-
leſs volumes half devoured. At her right hand fat
Ignorance, her father and huſband, blind with age;
at her left, Pride, her mother, dreſſing her up in
the ſcraps of paper herſelf had torn. There was
Opinion, her fifter, light of foot, hood-winked,
and head-ſtrong; yet giddy, and perpetually turn-
ing. About her played her children, Noiſe and
Impudence, Dulneſs and Vanity, Poſitiveneſs, Pedan-
try, and Til-manners. The goddeſs herſelf had
claws like a cat, her head, and ears, and voice;
reſembled thoſe of an afs; her teeth fallen out be-
fore; her eyes turned inward, as if ſhe looked on.
ly upon herſelf; her diet was the overflowing of
her own gall; her ſpleen was ſo large, as to ſtand
prominent like a dug of the firſt racé ; nor wanted
excrefcences in form of teats, at which a crew of
ugly monſters were greedily fucking ;, and, what
is wonderful to conceive, the bulk of ſpleen in-
creaſed faſter than the ſucking could diininiſh it.
“ Goddeſs," ſaid Momus, “ can you fit idly here,
“ while our devout workippers, the Moderns, are
“ this minute entering into a cruel battle, and per-
haps now lying under the ſwords of their ene-
“ mies? Who then hereafter will ever facrifice, or
« build altars to our divinities? Haſte therefore to
“ the Britiſ ifle, and, if poffible, prevent their
“ deſtruction; while I make factions among the
gods, and gain them over to our party.”
Momus having thus delivered himſelf, ftaid not
for an anſwer, but left the goddeſs to her own re-
fentment. Up the role in a rage ; and, as it is
the form upon fuch occaſions, began a coliloquy.
Q3
no It
186 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
" It is I,” (faid ſhe) who give wiſdom to infants
" and idiots; by me children grow wifer than
" their parents; by me beaux become politicians,
" and ſchool-boys judges of philofophy; by me fo-
phifters debate, and conclude upon the depths
“ of knowledge, and coffeehouſe wits, inſtinct by
mé, can correct an author's ſtyle, and diſplay
* his ininuteſt errors, without underſtanding a fyl-
" table of his matter or his language ; by me ſtrip-
" lings ſpend their judgement, as they do their e-
“ itate, before it comes into their hands. It is I
" who have depoſed Wit and Knowledge from
“ their empire over Poetry, and advanced myſelf
*" in their ſtead. And ſhall a few upſtart Ancients
“ dare oppofe me?
-- But come, my aged pa-
rents, and you my children dear, and thou, my
" beauteous lifter; let us afcend my chariot, and
" haſte to affift our devout Moderns, who are now
facrificing to us a hecatomb, as I perceive by that
" grateful fmell, which from thence reaches my
«« noſtrils."
The goddeſs and her train, having mounted the
chariot, which was drawn by tame geeje, flew over
infinite regions, ſhedding her influence in due pla-
ces, till at length ſhe arrived at her beloved iſland
of Britain. But, in hovering over its metropolis,
what bleflings did the not let fall upon her femina-
ries of Gretham and Covent-garden *? And now
fhe reached the fatal plain of St. James's library, at
what time the two armies were upon the point to
engage; where entering with all her caravan un-
feen, and landing upon a caſe of thelves, now de-
fert, but once inhabited by a colony of virtuofo's,
the ſtaid a while to obſerve the poſture of both ar-
mies.
But here the tender cares of a mother began to
fill her thoughts, and move in her breaft. For,
See the notes, p. 51.
at
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 187
at the head of a troop of Modern boumen, ſhe caſt
her eyes upon her ſon Wotton; to whom the
Fates had afligned a very ſhort thread; Wotton, a
young hero, whom an unknown father of mortal
race begot by ſtolen embraces with this goddeſs.
He was the darling of his mother, above all her
children; and the reſolved to go and comfort him.
But firſt, according to the good old cuſtom of dei-
ties, the caſt about to change her ſhape ; for fear
the divinity of her countenance might dazzle his
mortal fight, and overcharge the reſt of his ſenſes.
She therefore gathered up her perſon into an ota-
Vo compaſs. Her body grew white and arid, and
ſplit in pieces with dryneſs; the thick turned into
paſteboard, and the thin into paper ; upon which
her parents and children artfully ſtrewed a black
juice or decoction of gail and foot, in form of let-
ters; her head, and voice, and ſpleen, kept their
primitive form ; and that which before was a co-
ver of ikin, did ſtill continue fo. In this guiſe,
the marched on towards the Moderns, undiſtin-
guiſhable in ſhape and dreſs from the divine Bentley,
Wotton's deareſt friend. “: Brave Wotton,” ſaid
the goddeſs, “ Why do our troops ſtand idle here,
to ſpend their preſent vigour, and opportunity
" of this day? Away, let us haſte to the generals,
" and adviſe to give the onſet immediately.” Ha-
ving ſpoke thus, the took the uglieſt of her mon-
ſters, full glutted from her fpleen, and Aung it in-
viſibly into
his mouth; which flying ſtraight up in-
to his head, ſqueezed out his eye-balls, gave him
a diſtorted look, and half overturned his brain.
Then the privately ordered two of her beloved
children, Dulneſs and Ill-manners, cloſely to attend
his perſon in all encounters. Having thus accou-
tred him, ſhe vaniſhed in a miſt; and the hero per-
ceived it was the goddeſs his mother.
The deſtined hour of fate being now arrived, the
fight began ; whereof, before I dare adventure to
make
188 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
make a particualr deſcription, I muſt, after the ex-
ample of other authors, petition for a hundred
tongues, and mouths, and hands, and pens; which
would all be too little to perform fo immenſe a
work. Say, goddeſs, that prefideft over hiſtory,
who it was that firſt advanced in the field of battle,
Paracelſus, at the head of his dragoons, obſerving
Galen in the adverſe wing, darted his javelin with
a mighty force; which the brave Ancient received
upon his ſhield, the point breaking in the ſecond
fold.
Hic pauca
defunt.
They bore the wounded Aga fon their ſhields to
his chariot.
Defunt
* nonnulla.
***
*
*
*
*
Then Ariſtotle obſerving Bacon advance with a
furious mien, drew his bow to the head, and let
fly his arrow ; which miſſed the valiant Modern, and
went hizzing over his head. But Des Cartes it hit;
The ſteel point quickly found a defiet in his head-
piece ; it pierced the leather and paſteboard, and
went in at his right eye. The torture of the pain
whirled the valiant bowman round, till death, like
a ſtar of ſuperior influence, drew him into his own
vortex.
Ingens hiatus
bić in MS.
when Homer appeared at the head of the cavalry,
# Dr. Harvey. See the note, p. 181. It was not thought pro-
per to name his antagonift, but only to intimate that he was wound-
ed. Other moderns arc ſpared by the hiatus that follows, probably
for fimilar reaſons.
mounted
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 189
mounted on a furious horſe, with difficulty ma-
naged by the rider himſelf, but which no other
mortal durft approach. He rode among the ene-
my's ranks, and bore down all before him. Say,
goddeſs whom he flew firſt, and whom he ſlew laſt.
Firſt, Gondibert * advanced againſt him, clad in
Heavy armour, and mounted on a ſtaid ſober geld-
ing, not ſo famed for his ſpeed, as his docility in
kneeling, whenever his rider would mount or a-
light. He had made a vow to Pallas, that he
would never leave the field, till he had ſpoiled Ho-
mer of his armour ; madman, who had never
once ſeen the wearer, nor underſtood his ſtrength!
Him Homer overthrow, horſe and man, to the
ground, there to be trampled and choked in the
dirt. Then, with a long ſpear, he ſlew Denham,
a ftout Modern; who, from his father's fide, de-
rived his lineage from Apollo, but his mother was
of mortal race t. He fell, and bit the earth. The
celeſtial part Apollo took, and made it a ſtar ; but
the terreſtrial lay wallowing upon the ground.
Then Homer flew Weſley I, with a kick of his
horſe's heel. He took Perault, by mighty force,
out of his faddle ; then hurled him at Fontenelle ;
with the ſame blow daſhing out both their brains.
On the left wing of the horſe, Virgil appeared,
in ſhining armour, completely fitted to his body.
He was mounted on dapple-grey ſteed, the flow-
neſs of whoſe pace was an effect of the higheſt
mettle and vigour, He caſt his eye on the adverſe
wing, with a deſire to find an object worthy of his
valour; when, behold, upon a forrel gelding of a
An heroic poem by Sir William Davenant, in Aanzas of four
lines,
Vide Homer.
† Sir John Denham's poems are very vnequal; extremely good,
and very indifferent; fo that his detractors ſaid, he was not the real
author of Cooper's Hill,
1 Mr. Welley, who wrote the Life of Christ in verſe, &c.
monſtrous
190 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
monſtrous fize, appeared a foe, iſſuing from a-
mong the thickeſt of the enemy's ſquadron; but
his ſpeed was leſs than his noiſe; for his horfe, old
and lean, ſpent the dregs of his ſtrength in a high
trot; which, though it made flow advances, yet
cauſed a loud claſhing of his armour, terrible to
hear. The two cavaliers had now approached
within the throw of a lance; when the ſtranger de.
fired a parley, and lifting up the vizor of his hel-
met, a face hardly appeared from within ; which,
after a pauſe, was known for that of the renowned
Dryden. The brave Anient ſuddenly ſtarted, as
one poffefied with ſurpriſe and diſappointment to-
gether; for the helmet was nine times too large for
the head; which appeared fituate far in the hinder
part, even like the lady in a lobſter, or like a moufe
under a canopy of ſtate, or like a ſhrivelled beau
from within the pent-houſe of a inodcrn periwig :
And the voice was fuited to the viſige, founding
weak and remote. Dryden, in a long harangue,
ſmoothed up the good Ancient, called him Father;
and, by a large deduction of genealogies made it
plainly appear that they were nearly related. Then
he humbly propoſed an exchange of armour, as a
laſting mark of hoſpitality between thein. Virgil
confented, (for the goddeſs Diffidence came unfeen,
and caſt a miſt before his eyes,) though his was of
gold, and coſt a hundred beeves *, the other's but
of ruſty iron. However, this glittering armour be-
came the Modern yet worſe than his own. Then
they agreed to exchange horſes; but when it came
to the trial, Dryden was afraid, and utterly unable
.
to mount.
Alter bia-
tusin MS.
Lucan appeared upon
* Pid. Homer,
a fiery
:
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS,
191
*
a fiery horſe, of admirable ſhape, but head-ſtrong,
bearing the rider where he liſt, over the field. He
made a mighty flaughter among the enemy's horfe;
which deſtruction to ſtop, Blackmore, a famous
Modern, (but one of the mercenaries,) ftrenouſly
oppoſed himſelf, and darted his javelin with a
ſtrong hand, which falling ſhort of its mark, ſtruck
deep in the earth. Then Lucan threw a lance ;
but Æſculapius came unſeen, and turned off the
point t. “ Brave Modern,” ſaid Lucan, I
per-
ceive ſome god protects you; for never did my
arm ſo deceive me before. But what mortal can
" contend with a god? Therefore let us fight no
" longer, but preſent gifts to each other." Lucan
then beſtowed the Modern a pair of ſpurs, and
Blackmore gave Lucan a bridle,
Pauca de-
ſunt.
Creech: But the goddeſs Dullneſs took a cloud,
formed into the ſhape of Horace, armed and
mounted, and placed it in a flying poſture be-
fore him. Glad was the cavalier to begin a com-
bat with a flying foe, and purſued the image,
threatening loud; till at laſt it led him to the
peaceful bower of his father Ogleby ; by whom
he was diſarmed, and affigned to his repoſe.
Then Pindar flew and
and Oldham,
and —, and Afra the Amazon *, light of foot ;
never advancing in a direct line, but wheeling with
incredible agility and force, he made a terrible
ſlaughter among the enemy's light horſe. Him when
Cowley obſerved, his generous heart burnt within
him, and he advanced againſt the fierce Ancient,
imitating his addreſs, his pace and career, as well
as the
vigour of his horſe, and his own ſkill would
y
4. His ſkill as a phyſician atoned for his dulneſs as a poet.
* Mis, Afra Bihn, author of many plays, novels, and poems.
allow.
192
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
allow. When the two cavaliers had approacha
within the length of three javelins; firſt Cowley
threw a lance, which miſſed Pindar, and pafling
into the enemy's ranks, fell ineffectual to the
ground. Then Pindar darted a javelin, fo large
and weighty, that ſcarce a dozen cavaliers, as
cavaliers are in our degenerate days, could raiſe it
from the ground yet he threw it with eale, and it
went, by an unerring hand, ſinging through the
air ; nor could the ñodern have avoided preſent
death, if he had not luckily oppofed the thield that
had been given him by Venus t. And now both
heroes drew their ſwords. But the Modern was fo
agliaft and diſordered, that he knew not where he
was; his ſhield dropt from his hands; thrice he fled,
and thrice he could not eſcape. At laſt he turn-
ed, and, lifting up his hands in the poſture of a
fuppliant, “ Godlike Pindar,” ſaid he, “ ſpare
“ my life, and poffefs my horſe, with theſe arms,
“ beſides the ranfom which my friends will give,
" when they hear I am alive, and your priſoner."
“ Dog,” ſaid Pindar, " let your ranſom ſtay
" with your friends : But your carcafe Thall be left
“ for the fuwls of the air, and the beaſts of the
“ field.” With that, he raiſed his ſword, and,
with a mighty ſtroke, cleft the wretched Modern in
twain, the ſword purſuing the blow; and one half
lay panting on the ground, to be trod in pieces by
the horfes feet, the other half was borne by the
frighted ſteed through the field. This Venus
took ", waſhed it ſeven times in ambroſia; then
{truck it thrice with a ſprig of amaranth; upon
+ His poem called the Mifreſs.
* I do noi approve the author's jugment in elis; for I think Cov.
ley's Pindarics are ni uch preferable co his Mifrej.
It may however be co: fide:ed, that Cowley's Pindarics were lut
copies, of which Pindar was the original. Before Pírd.ir, iherefore,
his Pindar.cs might fa!); and his Miſtreſs be preſerved, as properiy
his own.
which
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
193
which the leather grew round and ſoft, and the leaves
turned into feathers; and being gilded before,
continued gilded ſtill; fo it became a dove, and
the harnefled it to her chariot.
Hiatus valde
deflendus in MS.
Day being far ſpent, and the numerous forces of
the Moderns half inclining to a retreat, there iſſued
forth from a ſquadron of their heavy-armed foot ;
a captain, whoſe name was Bentley ; the moſt de-
formed of all the Moderns; tall, but without ſhape
or comelineſs; large, but without ſtrength or pro-
portion. His armour was patched up of a thou-
fand incoherent pieces; and the ſound of it as he
marched was loud and dry, like that made by the
fall of a ſheet of lead, which an Etefian wind blows
fuddenly down from the roof of ſome ſteeple. His
helmet was of old ruſty iron; but the vizor was
braſs, which, tainted by his breath, corrupted into
copperas, nor wanted gall from the ſame fountain ;
ſo that, whenever provoked by anger or labour, an
atramentous quality of moſt malignant nature was
ſeen to diftil from his lips. In his right hand he
graſped a flail , and (that he might never be un-
provided of an offenſive weapon) a veſſel full of or-
dure in his left. Thus completely armed, he ad-
vanced with a low and heavy pace, where the Mo-.
dern chiefs were holding a confult upon the ſum of
things; who, as he came onwards, laughed to be-
hold his crooked leg and hump ſhoulder, which his
+ The epiſode of Bentley and Wotton.
As the account of the battle of the books is an allegoricat repre.
ſentation of Sir William Temple's eſſay, in which tbe Ancients
are oppoſed to the Mederos, the account of Bentley and Wotton is
called an epiſode, and their intruſion repreſented as an under
a&tica.
I The perſon here ſpoken of, is famous for letting fly at every
body without diftinction, and uſing mean and foul fcurrilities.
VOL. I.
R
boot
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
boot and armour vainly endeavouring to hide, were
forced to comply with and expofe. The generals
made ufe of him for his talent of railing; which,
kept within government, proved frequently of
great ſervice to their cauſe; but at other times did
more miſchief than good; for at the leaſt touch of
offence, and often without any at all, he would,
like a wounded elephant, convert it againſt his lead-
ers. Such, at this juncture, was the difpofition of
Bentley, grieved to ſee the enemy prevail, and diſ-
fatisfied with every body's conduct but his own.
He humbly gave the Modern generals to underſtand,
that he conceived, with great ſubrniffion, they were
all a pack of rogues, and fools, and fons of whores,
and don'd cowards, and confounded logger-heads and
illiterate whelps, and nonſenſical ſcoundrels; that if
himſelf had been conſtituted general, thoſe preſump-
tuous dogs * the Ancients, would long before this
have been bcaten out of the field, “ You,” ſaid
he, “ ſit here idle; but when I, or any other va-
sc liant Modern, kill an enemy, you are ſure to
“ ſeize the fpoil. But I will not march one foot
" againſt the foe, till you all ſwear to me, that
* whomever I take or kill, his arms I ſhall quietly
“ poffefs.” Bently having ſpoken thus, Scaliger
beſtowing him a four look, " Miſcreant prater,
ſaid he, “ eloquent only in thine own eyes, thou
... raileft without wit, or truth, or diſcretion.
« The malignity of thy temper perverteth nature,
thy learning makes thee more barbarous ; thy
“ ftudy of humanity more inhuman; thy converſe
" among poets, more grovelling, miry, and dull.
“ All arts of civilizing others, render thee rude
“ and untractable; courts have taught thee ill man-
ners, and polite convertation has finiſhed thee a
pedant. Beſides, a greater coward burdeneth
" not the army. But never deſpond; I paſs my
# Vid. Homer, de Therfite,
" word,
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. .
195
“ word, whatever ſpoil thou takeft ſhall.certainly
“ be thy own; though, I hope, that vile carcaſc
will firſt become a prey to kites and worms."
Bentley durft not reply; but half choked with
ſpleen and rage, withdrew in-full reſolution of per-
forming ſome great atchievement. With him, for
his aid and companion, he took his beloved Wot-
ton ; reſolving, by policy or furpriſe, to attempt
fome neglected quarter of the Ancients army. They
began their march over carcaſes of their ſlaughter-
ed friends.; then to the right of their own forces;
then wheeled northward, till they came to Aldro-
vandus's tomb; which they pafied on the ſide of
declining fun. And now they arrived with fear
towards the enemy's out-guards; looking about, if
haply they might ſpy the quarters of the wounded,
or ſome ſtraggling ſleepers, unarmed, and remote
from the reſt. As when two mungrel curs, whom
native greedineſs and domeſtic want, provoke and
join in partnerſhip, though fearful, nightly to in-
vade the folds of ſome rich grazier; they, with
tails depreſſed, and lolling tongues, creep ſoft and
flow: mean while, the conſcious moon, now in her
zenith, on their guilty heads darts perpendicular
rays; nor dare they bark, though much provoked
at her refulgent viſage, whether feen in puddle by
reflection, or in fphere direct; but one ſurveys the
region round, while t'other ſcouts the plain, if
haply to diſcover, at diſtance from the flock, ſome
carcaſe half devoured, the refuſe of gorged wolves,
or ominous ravens ; fo marched this lovely, loving
pair of friends, nor with leſs fear and circumſpee-
tion; when, at diſtance, they might perceive two
fhining ſuits of armour, hanging upon an oak,
and the owners not far off in a profound ſleep.
The two friends drew lots, and the purſuing of
this adventure fell to Bentley. On he went, and
in his van Confuſion and Amaze, while Horror and
Affright brought up the rear. As he came neat,
bchold
R2
196 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
behold two heroes of the Ancients army, Phalaris
and Æfop, lay faſt alleep. Bentley would fain
have diſpatched them both; and, ſtealing clofe,
aimed his flail at Phalaris's breaſt. But then the
goddeſs Affright interpoſing, caught the Modern in
her icy arms, and dragged him from the danger
the foreſaw; both the dormant heroes happened to
turn at the ſame inſtant, though foundly fleeping
and buſy in a dream. * For Phalaris was juſt that
minute dreaming, how a moſt vile poetaſter had
lampooned him, and how he had got hin roaring
in his bull. And Æfop dreamed, that as he and
the Ancient Chiefs were lying on the ground, a will
afs broke looſe, ran about trampling and kicking,
and dunging in their faces. Bentley leaving the
two heroes aſteep, ſeized on both their armour3,
and withdrew in queft of his darling Wotton.
He, in the mean time, had wandered long in
ſearch of fome enterpriſe, till at length he arrived
at a ſmall rivulet, that iſſued from a fountain hard
by, called, in the language of mortal men, Helicon.
Here he ſtopped, and parched with thirft, reſolver
to allay it in this limpid ſtream. Thrice with pro-
fane hands he eſſayed to raiſe the water to his lips,
and thrice it flipped all through his fingers. Then
he ſtooped prone on his breaſt; but ere his moutlı
had kiſſed the liquid cryſtal, Apollo came, and in
the channel held his field betwixt the Nodern and
the fountain, ſo that he drew up nothing but mud.
For although no fountain on earth can compare
with the clearneſs of Helicor, yet there lies at bos-
tom a thick fediment of ſime and mud; for ſo Ap-
pollo begged of Jupiter, as a puniſhment to thote
who durft attempt to taſte it with unhallowed lips,
and for a leſſon to all, not to draw too deep, or far
from the ſpring.
This is according to Homer, who tells the dreams of thoſe who
were killed in their feep.
At
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
197
" Oh,
At the fountain-head, Wotton difcerned two he.
roes. The one he could not diſtinguiſh; but the
other was ſoon known for Temple, general of the
allies to the Ancients. His back was turned, and
he was employed in drinking large draughts in his
helmet, from the fountain, where he had with-
drawn himſelf to reſt from the toils of the war.
Wotton, obſerving him, with quaking knces and
trembling hands, fpoke thus to hinfelf.
" that I could kill this deſtroyer of our army!
" What renown ſhould I purchaſe among the
“ chiefs ? But to iſſue out againſt him, man againſt
“ man, thield againſt fhicld, and lance againſt
“ lance t, what Nodern of us dare? For he fights
“ like a god, and Pallas or Apollo are ever at his-
" elbow. But, Oh, mother! if what Fame reports
“ be true, that I am the ſon of ſo great a goddeſs,
“ grant me to hit 'Temple with this lance, that the
fend him to hell, and that I may re-
“ turn in ſafety and triumph, laden with his fpoils."
The firſt part of this prayer the gods granted, at
the interceffion of his mother, and of Momus ; but
the reſt, by a perverſe wind fent from Fate, was ſcat-
tered in the air. Then Wotton graſped his lance,
and brandiſhing it thrice over his head, darted it
with all his might; the goddeſs, his mother, at the
fame time, adding ſtrength to his arın. Away the
lance went hifling, and reached even to the belt of
the averted Ancient ; upon which lightly graſing it
fell to the ground. Temple neither felt the weapon
touch him, nor heard it fall. And Wotton might
have eſcaped to his army, with the honour of hav-
ing emitted his lance againſt ſo great a leader, un-
revenged; but Apollo, enraged that a Javelin fung
by the affiſtance of ſo foul a goddeſs, ſhould pollute
his fountain, put on the fhape of, and ſoftly
came to young Boyle, who then accompanied Tem-
" Itroke may
+ Vid. Ilomer,
R3
ple:
198 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
ple: he pointed firſt to the lance, then to the di-
itant Modern that flung it, and commanded the
young hero to take immediate revenge. Boyle,
clad in a ſuit of armour which had been given him
by all the gods *, immediately advanced againſt the
trembling foe, who now fled before him. As a
young lion in the Libyan plains, or Araby Deſert,
fent by his aged fire to hunt for prey, or health, or
exerciſe; he ſcours along, wiſhing to meet ſome ty.
ger from the mountains, or a furious boar; if
chance a wild aſs, with brayings importune affronts
his ear; the generous beaſt, though loathing to
diſtain his claws with blood fo vile, yet inuch pro-
voked at the offenfive noiſe; which Echo, fooliſh
nymph, like her ill-judging ſex, repeats much loud-
er, and with more delight than Philomela's fong;
he vindicates the honour of the foreſt, and hunts
the noiſy long-ear'd animal: fo Wotton fled, ſo
Boyle purſued. But Wotton, heavy-armed, and
ſlow of foot, began to flack his courſe; when his
lover Bentley appeared, returning laden with the
ſpoils of the two fleeping Ancients. Boyle obſerved
him well; and ſoon diſcovering the helmet and
ſhield of Phalaris his friend, both which he had
lately, with his own hands, new poliſhed and gilt ;
rage ſparkled in his eyes; and leaving his purſuit
after Wotton, he furiouſly ruſhed on againſt this
new approacher. Fain would he be revenged on
both; but both now fled different ways. And as
a woman in a little houfe, that gets a painful live-
lihood by ſpinning * ; if chance her geefe be ſcat-
• Boyle was afifted in this diſpute by Dean Aldrich, Dr. Atter-
bury, afterwards Biſhop of Rocheſter, and other perſons at Oxford,
celebrated for their genius and their learning, then called the Chrif-
cburcb wits,
* This is alſo after the manner of ilemer; the woman's getting
a painful livelihood by ſpinning, has nothing to do with thc fimilitude,
nor would be excuſable without fuch an authority.
Vid. Homer.
tered
THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS.
199
tored o'er the common, ſhe courſes round the plain
from fide to ſide, compelling here and there the
ftragglers to the flock; they cackle loud, and flut-
ter o'er the champaign : fo Boyle purfued, ſo fled
this pair of friends. Finding at length their flight
was rain, they bravely joined, and drew themſelves
in phalanx. Firſt, Bentley threw a ſpear with all
his force, hoping to pierce the enemy's breaſt. But
Pallas came unſeen, and in the air took off the
point, and clapped on one of lead; which, after a
dead bang againſt the enemy's fhield, fell blunted
to the ground. Then Boyle, obſerving well his
time, took up a lance of wondrous length and
fharpneſs; and as this pair of friends compacted,
ſtood clofe fide to ſide, he wheeled him to the right,
and, with unuſual force, darted the weapon. Bent-
ley ſaw his fate approach; and flanking down his
arins cloſe to his ribs, hoping to ſave his body ; in
went the point paſſing through arm and ſide: nor
ſtopt or ſpent its force, till it had alſo pierced the
valiant Wotton; who going to ſuſtain his dying
friend, ſhared his fate. As when a ſkilful cook
has truffed a brace of woodcocks, he, with iron ſkew-
er, pierces the tender ſides of both, their legs and
wings cloſe pinioned to their ribs : ſo was this pair
of friends transfixed, till down they fell, joined in
their lives, joined in their deaths; ſo cloſely join-
ed, that Charon would miſtake them both for one,
and waft them over the Styx for half his fare,
Farewel, beloved, loving pair; few equals have
you left behind : and happy and immortal ſhall
you be, if all my wit and eloquence can make
you.
And now,
Defunt cætera.
A
[ 2005 ]
EL*20*01#%ECHKIRFLEXI
A DISCOURSE concerning the MECHA-
NICAL OPERATION of the SPIRIT.
In a LETTER to a FRIEND..
A FRAGMEN T.
The BookselLER'S ADVERTISEMENT.
'HE following diſcourſe came into my hands
perfect and entire. But there being ſeveral
things in it which the preſent age would not very
well bear, I kept it by me fome years, reſolving it
fhould never ſee the light,. At length, by the ad-
vice and alliſtance of a judicious friend, I retrench-
ed thoſe parts that might give moſt offence, and
have now ventured to publiſh the remainder. Con-
cerning the author, I am wholly ignorant; neither
can I conjecture, whether it be the ſame with that
of the two foregoing pieces; the original having
been ſent me at a different time, and in a different
hand. The learned reader will better determine;
to whoſe judgment I entirely ſubmit it.
[ 2011
CHR*NEUR
A DISCOURSE concerning the MECHANICAL
OPERATION of the SPIRIT *.
For T. H. Eſq; + at his chambers in the academy of
the Biaux-eſprits in New England.
SIR,
I'
T is now a good while ſince I have had in my
head ſomething, not only very material, but
abſolutely neceffary to my health, that the
world ſhould be informed in. For, to tell you a
fecret, I am able to contain it no longer. However,
I have been perplexed for ſome time, to reſolve
what would be the moſt proper form to ſend it a-
broad in. To which end, I have been three days,
courfing through Weſtminſter-hall, and St. Paul's
church-yard, and Fleet-ſtreet, to peruſe titles; and
I do not find any which holds ſo general a vogue,
as that of A letter to a friend. Nothing is more
* This diſcourſe is not altogether cqnal to the former, the best
parts of it being omitted. Whether the bookſeller's account be true,
that he durft not print the reſt, I know not : nor indeed is it eaſy to
determine, whether he may be relied on in any thing he ſays of this,
or the former treatiſes, only as to the time they were writ in :
which, however, appears more from the diſcourſes themſelves, than
his relation.
This diſcourſe is a ſatire againk enthuſiaſm, and thoſe affected ia-
fpirations, which conſtantly begin in folly, and very often end in vice.
In this treatife, the author hath revelled in too licentious a vein of
Sarcaſm : many of his ideas are naufeous, ſome are indeccot, and
others have an irreligious tendency. Nor is the piece itſelf equal in
wit and humour, either to Tbe Tale of a Tub, or The Battle of the
Bocks. I ſhould conſtantly chuſe rather to praifé than to arraign aný
pait of Swift's writings: but in thoſe tracts where he tries to make
us uneaſy with ourſelves, and unhappy in our prefent exiſtence, ibare
Iniuft yield him up entirely to cenfuxe. Orrery,
Suppoſed to be Col. Henter,
conimon
202
ON THE MECHANICAL
common than to meet with long epiſtles addreſſed
to perſons and places, where, at firſt thinking, one
would be apt to imagine it not altogether fo neccf-
ſary or convenient, ſuch as, a neighbour at next
door, a inortal enemy, a perfect ſtranger, or a perlin
of quality in the clouds ; and theſe upon ſubjects, in
appearance, the leaſt proper for conveyance by the
poft; as, long ſchemes in philoſophy, dark and won-
derful myfteries of fate, laborious differtations in cri-
ticiſm and philoſophy, advice to parliaments, and the
like,
Now, Sir, to proceed after the method in pre-
fent wear: (for, let me fay what I will to the con-
trary, I am afraid you will publiſh this letter, as
ſoon as ever it comes to your hand): I deſire you
will be my witneſs to the world, how careleſs and
ſudden a ſcribble it has been; that it was but ye-
ſterday, when you and I began accidentally to fall
into diſcourſe on this matter; that I was not very
well when we parted; that the poſt is in ſuch hafte,
I have had no manner of time to digeft. it into or-
der, or correct the ſtyle ; and if any other modern
excuſes, for haſte and negligence, ſhall occur to
you in reading, I beg you to infert them, faith-
fully promiſing they ſhall be thankfully, acknow-
ledged.
Pray, Sir, in your next letter to the Iroquois vir..
tuoſi, do me the favour to preſent my humble ſer-
vice to that illuſtrious body; and aſſure them, I
Thall ſend an account of thoſe phenomena, as ſoon
as we can determine them at Greſham,
I have not had a line from the literati of Tobin-
ambou theſe three laſt, ordinaries,
And now, Sir; having diſpatched what I had to
fay of forms, or of bulinefs, let me intreat you
will ſuffer me to proceed upon my ſubject; and to
pardon me, if I make no further uſe of the epiſto-
lary ſtyle, till I come to conclude.
SECT:
OPERATIONS OF THE SPIRIT.
203
***
Warto
S E C T.
I.
IT
T is recorded of Mahomet, that, upon a viſit he
was going to pay in Paradiſe, he had an offer of
ſeveral vehicles to conduct him upwards; as fiery
chariots, winged horſes, and celeſtial fedans: but
he refuſed them all, and would be borne to heaven
upon nothing but his aſs. Now, this inclination of
Mahomet, as fingular as it ſeems, hath been fince
taken up by a great number of devout Chriſtians ;
and doubtleſs with very good reaſon. For ſince
that Arabian is known to have borrowed a moiety
of his religious ſyſtem from the Chriſtian faith, it is
but juſt he ſhould pay repriſals to ſuch as would
challenge them; wherein the good people of Eng.
land, to do them all right, have not been back-
ward. For though there is not any other nation
in the world fo plentifully provided with carriages
for that journey, either as to fafety or cafe ; yet
there are abundance of us, who will not be ſatis-
fied with any other machine, beſides this of Ma-
homet.
For iny own part, I muſt confeſs to bear a very
ſingular reſpect to this animal, by whom I take hii-
man nature to be moſt admirably held forth in all
its qualities as well as operations: and therefore,
whatever in my ſmall reading occurs concerning
this our fellow-creature, I do never fail to ſet it
down by way of common-place; and when I have
occaſion to write upon human reaſon, politics, elo-
quence, or knowledge, I lay my memoranduns be-
fore me, and inſert them with a wonderful facility
of application. However, among all the qualifi-
cations aſcribed to this diſtinguiſhed brute, by an-
cient or modern authors, I cannot remember this
talent, of bearing his rider to heaven, has been re-
corded
204
ON THE MECHANICAL
corded for a part of his character, except in the
two examples mentioned already; therefore I con-
ceive the.methods of this art to be a point of uſeful
knowledge in very few hands, and which the learn-
ed world would gladly be better informed in: this
is what I have undertaken to perforin in the follow-
ing diſcourſe. For towards the operation already
mentioned, many peculiar properties are required,
both in the riiler and the aſs; which I ſhall endea-
vour to ſet in as clear a light as I can.
But, becauſe I am reſolved, by all means, to avoid
giving offence to any party whatever, I will leave off
diſcourfing fo cloſely to the letter as I have hitherto
done, and go on for the future by way of allegory,
though in fuch a manner, that the judicious reader
may, without much ftraining, make his applica-
tions, as often as he ſhall think fit. Therefore,
if you pleale, from hence forward, inſtead of the
term aſs, we ſhall make uſe of gifieds or enlightened
teacher; and the word rider, we will exchange for
that of fanatic auditory, or any other denomination
of the like import. Having fettled this weighty
point, the great ſubject of inquiry before us is, to
examine by what methods this teacher arrives at his
gifts, or ſpirit, or light; and by what intercourſe
between him and his aſſembly it is cultivated and
fupported,
In all my writings I have had conftant regard to
this great end, not to ſuit and apply them to parti-
cular occaſions and circumſtances of time, of place,
or of perfon; but to calculate them for univerſal
nature, and mankind in general. And of ſuch ca-
tholic uſe I eſteem this preſent diſquiſition: for I
do not remember any other temper of body, or
quality of mind, wherein all nations and
ages
of
the world have ſo unanimouſly agreed, as that of a
fanatic ſtrain, or tincture of enthuſiaſm; which,
improved by certain perſons or focieties of men,
and by them practiſed upon the reſt, has been able
to
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
205
to produce revolutions of the greateſt figure in hi-
ſtory; as will ſoon appear to thoſe who know any
thing of Arabia, Perſia, India, or China, of Mo.
rocco and Peru. Farther, it has poffefſed as great
a power in the kingdom of knowledge, where it is
hard to aflign one art or ſcience, which has not an-
nexed to it ſome funatic branch : ſuch are the phi-
lofopher's ſtone, the grand elixir*, the planetary worlds,
the ſquaring of the circle, the ſummum bonum, Uto-
pian commonwealths, with ſome others of leſs or
ſubordinate note ; which all ſerve for nothing elſe
but to employ or amuſe this grain of enthuſiaſm,
dealt into every compoſition.
But if this plant has found a root in the fields of
Empire and of Knowledge, it has fixed deeper, and
ſpread yet farther upon holy ground: wherein, tho'
it hath paffed under the general name of enthuſiaſm,
and perhaps ariſen from the fame original; yet hath
it produced certain branches of a very different na-
ture, however often miſtaken for each other. The
word, in its univerſal acceptation, may be defined,
A lifting up of the ſoul, or its faculties, above matter.
This deſcription will hold good in general: but I
am only to underſtand it as applied to religion ;
wherein there are three general ways of ejaculating
the ſoul, or tranſporting it beyond the ſphere of
matter. The firſt is, the iminediate act of God,
and is called prophecy or inſpiration. The ſecond
is, the immediate act of the devil, and is termed
poffeffion. The third is, the product of natural
cauſes, the effect of ſtrong imagination, ſpleen,
violent anger, fear, grief, pain, and the like.
Theſe three have been abundantly treated on by au-
thors, and therefore ſhall not employ my inquiry.
But the fourth method of religious enthuſiaſın, or
lanching out of the ſoul, as it is purely an effect of
artifice and mechanic operation, has been ſparingly
• Some writers hold them for the fame, oihe: s pot.
VOL.I.
S
handled
200 ON THE MECHANICAL
handled, or not at all, by any writer; becauſe
though it is an art of great antiquity, yet, having
been confined to few perſons, it long wanted thote
advancements and refinements, which it afterwards
met with, ſince it has grown ſo epidemic, and fallen
into ſo many cultivating hands,
It is therefore upon this mechanical operation of
the ſpirit that I mean to treat, as it is at preſent per-
formed by our Britiſh workmen. I ſhall deliver to
the reader the reſult of many judicious obſervations
upon the matter; tracing, as near as I can, the
whole courſe and method of this trade; producing
parallel inſtances, and relating certain diſcoveries
that have luckily fallen in my way.
I have ſaid, that there is one branch of religious
enthuſiaſm, which is purely an effect of nature;
whereas the part I mean to handle, is wholly an
effect of art, which, however, is inclined to work
upon certain natures and conſtitutions, more than
others. Beſides, there is many an operation, which
in its original, was purely an artifice; but, through
a long ſucceſſion of ages, hath grown to be natu-
ral. Hippocrates tells us, that, among our ancef-
tors the Scythians, there was a nation called Long-
heads *, which at firſt began by a cuſtom among
midwives and nurſes, of moulding, and ſqueezing,
and bracing up the heads of infants ; by which
means, nature, ſhut out at one paffage, was forced
to ſeek another, and, finding room above, thot up-
wards in the form of a ſugar-loaf; and being di-
verted that way, for ſome generations, at laſt found
it out of herſelf, needing no affiftance from the
nurſe's hand. This was the original of the Scy-
thian Longheads; and thus did cuſtom, from being
a fecond nature, proceed to be a firſt. To all which
there is ſomething very analagous among us of this
nation, who are the undoubted pofterity of that
* Macrocephali.
sefined
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
207
Mefined people. For, in the age of our fathers,
there aroſe a generation of men in this iſland, call-
ed Round-heads *, whoſe race is now ſpread over
three kingdoms; yet, in its beginning, was merely
an operation of art, produced by a pair of ſciffars, a
Squeeze of the face, and a black cap. Theſe heads,
thus formed into a perfect ſphereinall aſſemblies, were
moſt expoſed to the view of the female fort; which
did influence their conceptions fo effectually, that
Nature at laſt took the hint, and did it of herſelf;
ſo that a Round-head has been ever fince as familias
& fight among us, as a Long-bead among the Scy-
thians.
Upon theſe examples, and others eaſy to pro-
duce, I deſire the curious reader to diſtinguiſh, firſt,
between an effect grown from art into nature, and
one that is natural from its: beginning; fecondly,
between an effect wholly, naturally, and one which
has only a natural foundation, but where the fu-
perſtructure is entirely artificial. For the firſt and
the laft of thefe, I underftand to come within the
diſtricts of my ſubject. And having obtained theſe
allowances, they will ſerve to remove any objections
that may be raiſed hereafter againft what I ſhall ad-
Pance.
The practitioners of this famous art proceed in
general upon the following fundamental, That
• the corruption of the ſenſes is the generation of
so the ſpirit;” becauſe the ſenſes in men are ſo ma-
ny avenues to the fort of reaſon, which in this oper
ration is wholly blocked up. All endeavours muſt
be therefore uſed, either to divert, bind up, ſtupi-
fy, fluſter, and amuſe the fenfes, or elſe to juſtle
• The Fanatics, in the time of Charles 1. ignoraatly applying the
text, Ye know ibat it is a mame for men to bave long bair, cut theirs
very ſhort. It is said, that the Queen, once ſeeing Pym, a celebrat-
ed Patriot, thus cropped, inquired who that round-beaded man was;
and that, from this incident, the diitiaction became general, and the
party were called Round-beads.
S. 2
them
208 ON THE MECHANICAL
them out of their ſtations; and while they are ei-
ther abſent, or otherwife employed, or engaged in
a civil war againſt each other, the fpirit enters, and
performs its part.
Now, the uſual methods of managing the fenfes
upon ſuch conjunctures, are what I ſhall be very
particular in delivering, as far as it is lawful for me
to do; but having had the honour to be initiated
into the myſteries of every fociety, I defire to be
excufed from divulging any rites, wherein the pro-
fane muſt have no part.
But here, before I can proceed farther, a very
dangerous objection muſt, if poſſible, be removed.
For it is poſitively denied by certain critics, that
the ſpirit can by any means be introduced into an
affembly of modern faints; the diſparity being ſo
grcat, in many material circumſtances, between the
primitive way of inſpiration, and that which is
practifed in the preſent age. This they pretend to
prove from the 2di chapter of the Acts, where,
comparing both, it appears, firſt, that the apoſtles
were gathered together with one accord in one place;
by which is meant an univerſal agreement in opi-
nion and form of worſhip.; a harmony, fay they,
ſo far from being found between any two conven-
ticles among us, that it is in vain to expect it be-
tween any two heads in the ſame. Secondly, The
spirit inſtructed the apoſtles in the gift of ſpeaking
ſeveral languages; a knowledge ſo remove from our
dealers in this art, that they neither underſtand
propriety of words, or phraſes, in their own,
Laſtly, ſay theſe objectors, The inodern artiſts do
utterly exclude all approaches of the ſpirit, and bar
up its ancient way of entering, by covering them-
felves ſo clofe, and fo induftriouſly a-top. For
they will needs have it as a point clearly gained,
that the cloven tongues never fat upon the apoſtles
heads, while their hats were on.
Now, the force of theſe objections ſeems to con-
fift
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
209
fiſt in the different acceptation of the word ſpirit;
which if it be underſtood for a fupernatural aſſiſt-
ance, approaching from without, the objector's
have rcafon, and their affertions may be allowed:
but the ſpirit, we treat of here, proceeding entirely
from within, the argument of theſe adverſaries is
wholly eluded. And, upon the ſame account, our
modern artificers find it an expedient of abſolute
neceffity, to cover their heads as cloſe as they can,
in order to prevent perſpiration; than which no-
thing is obſerved to be a greater ſpender of mecha-
nic light, as we may perhaps farther flew in con-
venient place.
To proceed therefore upon the phænomenon of
Spiritual mechaniſm, it is here to be noted, that in
forming and working up the ſpirit, the aſſembly
has a confiderable ſhare, as well as the preacher,
The inethod of this arcanum is as follows. They
violently ſtrain their eye-balls inward, half cloſing
the lids; then, as they fit, they are in a perpetual
motion of fee-faw, making long hums at proper
periods, and continuing the found at equal height;
chuſing their time in thoſe intermiflions, while the
preacher is at ebb. Neither is this practice in any
part of it ſo fingular and improbable, as not to be
traced in diftant regions, from reading and obſer--
vation. For, firſt the Jauguis *, or enlightened
faints of India, ſee all their viſions by help of an
acquired ftraining and preſſure of the eyes. Sem
condly, the art of ſee-ſaw on a beam, and ſwinging
by feffion upon a cord, in order to raiſe artificial
ccftafies, hath been derived to us from our Scythi-
an anceſtorst, where it is practiſed at this day among
the women. Laſtly, the whole proceeding, as I have
here related it, is performed by the natives of Ire
land, with a confiderable improvement, and it is
Bernier, mem, de Mogol.
+ Guagnini hift, Sarmat.
S3
grantecting
210
ON THE MECHANICAL
granted, that this noble nation hath of all others
admitted fewer corruptions, and degenerated leatt
from 'the purity of the old Tartars. Now, it is
uſual for a knot of Iriſh, men and women, to ab-
ftract themſelves from matter, bind up all their fen-
fes, grow viſionary and ſpiritual, by influence of a
ſhort pipe of tobacco handed round the company;
each preſerving the ſmoke in his mouth, till it
comes again to his turn to take in freſh. At the
ſame time there is a concert of a continued gentle
hum, repeated and renewed by inſtinct, as occafion
requires; and they move their bodies up and down
to a degree, that ſometimes their heads and points
lie parallel to the horizon. Mean while, you may
obſerve their eyes turned up in the poſture of one
who endeavours to keep himſelf awake; by which,
and many other ſymptoms among them, it mani-
feſtly appears, that the reaſoning faculties are all
ſuſpended and ſuperſeded; that imagination hath
uſurped the feat; fcattering a thouſands deliriums
over the brain. Returning from this digreffion, I
ſhall deſcribe the methods by which the Spirit ap-
proaches. The eyes being diſpoſed according to
art, at firſt you can ſee nothing ; but, after a ſhort
pauſe, a fmall glimmering light begins to appear,
and dance before you. Then, by frequently mo-
ving your body up and down, you perceive the
vapours to aſcend very faſt, till you are perfectly
doſed, and fluſtered, like one who drinks too much
in a morning. Mean while, the preacher is alſo at
work; he begins a loud hum, which pierces you
quite through : This is immediately returned by
the audience; and you find yourſelf prompted to
imitate them, by a mere ſpontaneous impulfe, with-
out knowing what you do. The interſtitia are du-
ly filled up by the preacher, to prevent too long a
pauſe, under which the ſpirit would ſoon faint and
grow languid.
this
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT, 211
This is all I am allowed to diſcover about the
progrets of the ſpirit, with relation to that part
which is borne by the aſſembly; but in the methods
of the preacher, to which I now proceed, I thall
be more large and particular.
&
要​要​要​要
​S E C. T. II.
YOU will read it very gravely remarked in the
books of thoſe illuſtrious and right eloquent
penmen, the modern travellers, that the funda-
mental difference in point of religion between the
wild Indians and us, lies in this; that we worſhip
Gol, and they worſhip the devil. But there are
certain critics, who will by no means admit of this
diſtinction ; rather believing, that all nations what.
foever adore the true God, becauſe they ſeem to in-
tend their devotions to ſome inviſible power, of
greateſt goudneſs, and ability to help them; which
perhaps will take in the brighteſt attributes aſcribed
to the divinity. Others again inform us, that thoſe
idolaters adore two principles; the principle of good,
and that of evil: which indeed I am apt to look
upon as the moſt univerſal notion that mankind,
by the mere light of nature, ever entertained of
things inviſible. How this idea hath been managed
by the Indians and us, and with what advantage to
the underſtandings of either, may well deſerve to
be examined. To me the difference appears little
more than this, that they are put oftner upon their
knees by their fears, and we by our deſires; that
the former fet them a praying, and us a curſing.
What I applaud them for, is their diſcretion in li-
miting their devotions and their deities to their fe-
veral
212
ON THE MECHANICAL
veral diitricts; nor ever fuffering the liturgy of the
white god, to crofs or to interfere with that of the
black. Not ſo with us; who, pretending, by the
lines and meaſures of our reaſon, to extend the
dominion of one invitible power, and contract that
of the other, have diſcovered a grofs ignorance in
the natures of good and evil, and moſt horribly
confounded the frontiers of both.
After men
have lifted up the throne of their Divinity to the
cælum empyreum, adorned with all ſuch qualities
and accompliſhments as themſelves feein moſt to
value and poffefs; after they have funk their prin-
ciple of evil to the loweſt centre, bound him with
chains, loaded him with curſes, furniſhed him with
viler difpofitions than any rake-hell of the town,
accoutred him with tail, and horns, and huge
claws, and faucer eyes; I laugh aloud to ſee thele
reaſoners at the ſame time engaged in wife diſpute
about certain walks and purlieus, whether they are
in the verge of God or the devil; ſeriouſly debat-
ing, whether ſuch and ſuch influences come into
mens minds from above or below, whether certain
paſſions and affections are guided by the evil ſpirit
or the good.
Dum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinum
Difcernunt avidi
Thus do men eſtabliſh a fellowſhip of Chriſt with
Belial, and ſuch is the analogy they make between
cloven tongues and cloven feet. Of the like nature is
the diſquiſition before us. It hath continued theſe
hundred years an even debate, whether the deport-
ment and the cant of our Engliſh enthuſiaſtic
preachers were poflefon or inſpiration; and a world
of argument has been drained on either fide, per-
haps to little purpoſe. For I think it is in life as in
tragedy, where it is held a conviction of great de-
fect, both in order and invention, to interpofe the
affiſtance
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 213
a liſtance of preternatural power, without an abſo-
lute and laſt neceflity. However, it is a fketch of
human vanity, for every individual to imagine the
whole univerſe is intereſted in his meaneſt concern.
If he hath got cleanly over a kennel, fome angel
unſeen defcended on purpoſe to help him by the
hand; if he hath knocked his head againſt a poſt,
it was the devil, for his fins, let looſe from hell on
purpoſe to buffet him, Who, that ſees a little
paultry mortal droning, and dreaming, and drivel-
ling to a multitude, can think it agreeable to com-
mon good ſenfe, that either heaven or hell ſhould
be put to the trouble of influence or inſpection
upon what he is about? Therefore I am reſolved
immediately to weed this error out of mankind, by
making it clear, that this myſtery of vending ſpiri-
tual gifts is nothing but a trade, acquired by as much
inſtruction, and maſtered by equal practice and ap-
plication, as others are. This will beſt appear by
deſcribing and deducing the whole proceſs of the
operation, as variouſly as it hath fallen under my
knowledge or experience.
*
Here the whole ſcheme of
Spiritual mechaniſm was de-
duced and explained, with
an appearance of great read-
ing and obſervation ; but it
was thought neither ſafe nor
convenient to print it.
Here it may not be amiſs to add a few words up-
on the laudable practice of wearing quilted caps;
which is not a matter of mere cuſtom, humour, or
faſhion, as fome would pretend, but an inſtitution
of great fagacity and uſe. Thefe, when moiſtened
with fweat, ſtop all perfpiration; and, by rever-
berating
214
ON THE MECHANICAL
berating the heat, prevent the ſpirit from evapo-
rating any way but at the mouth; even as a ſkilful
houſewife, that covers a ſtill with a wet clout for
the ſame reaſon, and finds the ſame effect. For it
is the opinion of choice virtuoſi, that the brain is
only a croud of little animals, but with teeth and
claws extremely ſharp, and therefore cling together
in the contexture we behold, like the picture of
Hobbes's Leviathan, or like bees in perpendicular
fwarm upon a tree, or like a carrion corrupted in-
to vermin, ſtill preſerving the ſhape and figure of
the mother aniinal: That all invention is formed
by the morſure of two or more of theſe animals,
upon certain capillary nerves, which proceed from
thence ; whereof three branches ſpread into the
tongue, and two into the right hand. They hold
alſo, that theſe animals are of a conftitution ex-
tremely cold ; that their food is the air we attract,
their excrement phlegm ; and that what we vulgarly
call rheums, and colds, and diſtillations, is no-
thing elſe but an epidemical looſeneſs, to which
that little commonwealth is very ſubject, from the
climate it lies under : Farther, that nothing leſs
than a violent heat can diſintangle theſe creatures
from their hamated ſtation of life, or give them
vigour and humour to imprint the marks of their
little teeth: That if the morſure be hexagonal, it
produces poetry; the circular gives eloquence ; if
the bite hath been conical, the perſon whoſe nerve
is ſo affected, ſhall be diſpoſed to write upon po-
litics; and ſo of the reſt.
I ſhall now diſcourſe briefly, by what kind of
practices the voice is beſt governed, towards the
compofition and improvement of the ſpirit; for
without a competent ſkill in tuning and toning each
word, and fyllable, and letter, to their due ca-
dence, the whole operation is incomplete, miffes
intirely of its effect on the hearers, and puts the
vorkman himſelf to continual pain for new
ſupplie
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT. 215
fupplies without ſucceſs For it is to be un-
derſtod, that, in the language of the ſpirit,
cant and droning ſupply the place of ſenſe and rea-
fon, in the language of men, becauſe in fpiritual
harangues, the dispoſition of the words according
to the art of grammar hath not the leaſt uſe, but
the ſkill and influence wholly lie in the choice and
cadence of the ſyllables ; even as a diſcreet coin-
poſer, who, in fetting a ſong, changes the words
and order ſo often, that he is forced to make it
nonſenſe, before he can make it muſic. For this rea-
fon it hath been held by ſome, that the art of cant-
ing is ever in greateſt perfection, when managed
by ignorance ; which is thought to be enigmatically
meant by Plutarch, when he tells us, that the beſt
muſical inſtruments were made from the bones of
an aſs. And the profounder critics upon that paſ-
fage are of opinion, the word in its genuine figni-
fication, means no other than a jaw-bone ; though
ſome rather think it to have been the os facrum.
But in ſo nice a caſe, I ſhall not take upon me to
decide; the curious are at liberty to pick from it
whatever they pleaſe.
The firſt ingredient towards the art of canting,
is a competent ſhare of inward light; that is to ſay,
a large memory, plentifully fraught with theologi-
cal polyſyllables, and myſterious texts from holy
writ, applied and digeſted by thoſe methods and
mechanical operations already related; the bearers
of this light refembling lanterns, compact of leaves
from old Geneva Bibles; which invention, Sir
Humphry Edwin, during his mayoralty. of happy
memory, highly approved and advanced ; affirm-
ing the ſcripture to be now fulfilled, where it ſays,
Thy word is a lantern to my feet, and a light to my
paths.
Now, the art of canting confifts in ſkilfully adapt-
ing the voice to whatever words the fpirit delivers,
that each may ſtrike the ears of the audience with
its
216 ON THE MECHANICAL
its moſt ſignificant cadence. The force or energy
of this eloquence is not to be found, as among
ancient orators, in the diſpoſition of words to it
fentence, or the turning of long periods ; but, il-
greeable to the modern refinements in muſic, is ta-
ken up wholly in dwelling and dilating upon fyl.
lables and letters. Thus, it is frequent for a ſingle
vowel to draw fighs from a inultitude; and for it
whole aſſembly of faints, to ſob to the muſic of one
folitary liquid. But theſe are trifles, when even
founds inarticulate, are obſerved to produce as
forcible effects. A inafter-workman ſhall blow his
noſe ſo powerfully, as to pierce the hearts of his
people, who are diſpoſed to receive the excrements
of his brain, with the ſame reverence as the iſſue
of it. Hawking, ſpitting, and belching, the de.
fects of other mens rhetoric, are the flowers, and
figures, and ornaments of his. For, the ſpirit be-
ing the ſame in all, it is of no import through what
vehicle it is conveyed.
It is a point of too much difficulty, to draw the
principles of this famous art within the com-
paſs of certain adequate rules. However, per-
haps I may one day oblige the world with my
critical eſſay upon the art of canting, philoſophically
,
phyficoliy, and muſically conſidered.
But, among all improvements of the ſpirit where-
in the voice hath borne a part, there is none to be
compared with that of conveying the found through
the noſe, which, under the denomination of frutt-
ling *, hath paſſed with fo great applauſe in the
world. The origina's of this inſtitution are very
dark; but having been initiated into the myſtery of
it, and leave being given me to publiſh it to the
world, I ſhall deliver as direct a relation as I can.
* The ſnuffling of men, who have loſt their noſes by lewd courris,
is ſaid to have given riſe to that tone, which our diffenters did too
much affect, W. Worlon.
This
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
217
This art, like many other famous inventions,
owed its birth, or at leaſt improvement and perfec-
tion, to an effect of chance; but was establithod
upon folid reaſons, and hath flouriſhed in this
iſand ever ſince, with great luſtre. All agree, that
it firſt appeared upon the decay and di:courage-
ment of bigpipes, which, having long ſuffered 11-
der the mortal hatred of the brethren, tottered for
a time, and at laſt fell with monarchy. The ſtory is
thus related.
As yet ſnuffling was not ; when the following ad-
venture happened to a Banbury ſaint. Upon a
certain day, while he was far engaged among the
tabernacles of the wicked, he felt the outward man
put into odd commotions, and ſtrangely pricked
forward by the inward : An effect very uſual a-
mong the modern inſpired. For ſome think, that
the ſpirit is apt to feed on the fleſh, like hungry
wines upon raw beef. Others rather believe, there
is a perpetual game at leap-frog between both; and
ſometimes the flejo is uppermoſt, and ſometimes
the ſpirit ; adding, that the former, while it is in
the ſtate of rider, wears huge Rippon ſpurs, and,
when it comes to the turn of being bearer, is won-
derfully head-ſtrong and hard-mouthed. How-
ever it came about, the ſaint felt his vefjel full ex-
tended in every part, (a very natural effect of ſtrong
inſpiration); and the place and time falling out fo
unluckily, that he could not have the convenience
of evacuating upwards, by repetition, prayer, or lec-
turc, he was forced to open an inferior vent. In
ſhort, he wreſtled with the fleſh ſo long, that he at
length fubdued it, coming off with honourable
wounds all before. The ſurgeon had now cured
the
parts primarily affected ; but the difeafe, dri-
ven from its poſt, flew up into his head : and, as
a ſkilful general, valiantly attacked in his trenches,
and beaten from the field, by flying marches with-
draws to the capital city, breaking down the bridges
Voi.1.
T
to
218
ON THE MECHANICAL
to prevent purſuit ; ſo the diſeaſe, repelled fron
its firſt ſtation, fled before thc rod of Hermes, to
the upper region, there fortifying itſelf ; but, find-
ing the foe making attacks at the noje, broke down
the bridge, and retired to the head-quarters. Now,
the naturaliſts obſerve, that there is in human
noſes an idioſyncracy, by virtue of which, the
nore the paſſage is obſtructed, the more our
fpeech delights to go through, as the muſic of
a flagellet is made by the fiops. By this method,
the twang of the noſe becomes perfectly to
reſemble the ſnuffle of a bagpipe, and is found to
be equally attractive of Britith ears; whereof the
laint had ſudden experience, by practiſing his now
faculty with wonderful ſucceſs in the operation of
the ſpirit : For, in a ſhort time, no doctrine paſſed
for found and orthodox, unleſs it were delivered
through the noſe. Straight, every paftor copied
after this original; and thoſe who could not other-
wiſe arrive to a perfection, ſpirited by a noble zeal,
made uſe of the fame experiment to acquire it. So
that, I think, it may be truly affirmed, the ſaints
owe their empire to the ſnufling of one animal, as
Darius * did his to the neighing of another; and
both ſtratagems were performed by the ſame art;
for we read how the Perſian beaſt acquired his fa-
culty by covering a mare the day before.
I ſhould now have done, if I were not convin-
ced, that whatever I have yet advanced upon this
ſubject, is liable to great exception. For, allowing
all I have ſaid to be true, it may ſtill be juſtly ob-
jected, That there is, in the commonwealth of
artificial enthuſiaſm, fome real foundation for art
to work upon in the temper and complexion of in-
dividuals, which other mortals ſeem to want. Ob-
ferve but the geſture, the motion, and the
countenance of ſome choice profeflors, though
* Herodet,
in
OPERATIONS OF THE SPIRIT
219
in their moſt familiar actions, you will find them
of a different race from the rest of human crea-
tures. Remark your commoneft pretender to a
light within, how dark, and dirty, and gloomy he
is without ; as lanterns, which the more light they
bear in their bodies, caſt out ſo much the more
foot, and ſmoke, and fuliginous. matter to adhere
to the fides. Liften but to their ordinary talk, and
look on the mouth that delivers it; you will ima-
gine you are hearing fome ancient oracle, and your
underſtanding will be equally informed. Upon
there, and the like reaſons, certain objectors pre-
tend to put it beyond all doubt, that there muſt be
a ſort of preternatural ſpirit poffeffing the heads of
the modern faints; and ſome will have it to be the
beat of zeal, working upon the dregs of ignorance,
as other ſpirits are produced from lees by the force
of fire. Some again think, that when our earthly
tabernacles are diſordered and defolate, ſhaken and
out of repair, the fpirit delights to dwell within
them; as houſes are ſaid to be haunted, when they
are forſaken and gone to decay.
To ſet this matter in as fair a light as poſſible, I
fhall here very briefly deduce the hiſtory of Fana-
ticiſm from the moſt early ages to the preſent. And
if we are able to fix upon any one material or fun--
damental point, wherein the chief profeffors have
univerſally agreed, I think we may reaſonably lay
hold on that, and affign' it for the great feed or
principle of the ſpirit.
The moſt early traces we meet with of Fanatics
in ancient ſtory, are among the Egyptians, who in-
ftituted thofe rites known in Greece by the names
of Orgia, Panegyres, and Dionyfia ; whether intro-
duced there by Orpheus ar Melampus, we ſhall not
diſpute at preſent, nor, in all likelihood, at any
time for the future. Theſe feaſts were celebrated
to the honour of Oſiris, whom the Grecians called
Dionyſius,
'T 2
220
ON THE MECHANICAL
Dionfius, and is the fame with Bacchus *. Which
has betrayed ſome fuperficial readers to imagine,
that the whole buſineſs was nothing more than a fer
of roaring, fcouring companions, overcharged with
wine. But this is a fcandalous miſtake, foifted on
the world by a ſort of modern authors, who have
too I terai an underſtanding; and, becauſe anti-
quity is to be traced backwards, do therefore, like
Jews, begin their books at the wrong end, as if
learning were a ſort of conjuring. Theſe are the
inen who pretend to underſtand a book by ſcout-
ing through the index: as if a traveller ſhould go
about to deſcribe a palace, when he had ſeen no-
thing but the privy; or like certain fortune-tellers
in Northern America, who have a way of reading
a man's deftiny by peeping into his breech. For,
at the time of inſtituting theſe myſteries, + there
was not one vine in all Egypt, the natives drinking
nothing but ale ; which liquor ſeems to have been
far more ancient than wine, and has the honour of
owing its invention and progreſs, not only to the
Egyptian Oſiris f, but to the Grecian Bacchus;
who, in their famous expedition, carried the re-
ceipt of it along with them, and gave it to the na-
tions they viſited or ſubdued. Beſides, Bacchus
himſelf was very feldom or never drink : For it is
recorded of him, that he was the firft inventor of
the mitre ll; which he wore continually on his
head, (as the whole company of Bacchanals did),
to prevent vapours and the head-ach after hard
drinking. And for this reaſon, ſay ſome, the
ſcarlet whore, when ſhe makes the kings of the earth
drunk with her cup of abomination, is always
ſober
herſelf, though ſhe never balks the glaſs in her turn,
• Dird Sic. 1. 1. Plut, de Ifide et Ofiride,
+ Herod. I. 2.
I Diod, Sic, 1, 1. & 2,
| Id. l. 4.
being
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
221
being, it ſeems, kept upon her legs by the virtue of
her triple mitre. Now, theſe feaſts were inſtituted
in imitation of the famous expedition Ofiris made
through the world, and of the company that at-
tended him, whereof the Bacchanalian ceremo-
nics *, were ſo inany types and ſymbols. From
which account it is manifeft, that the Fanatic
rites of theſe Bacchanals cannot be imputed to
intoxications by wine, but muſt needs have had a
deeper foundation. What this was, we may ga-
ther large hints from certain circumſtances in the
courſe of their myſteries. For, in the firſt place,
there was in their proceſſions, an entire mixture and
confufion of ſexes; they affected to ramble about hills
and deſerts : Their garlands were of ivy and vine,
emblems of cleaving and clinging; or of fir, the
parent of turpentine. It is added, that they imi-
tated fatyrs, were attended by goats, and rode up-
onafes, all companions of great ikill and practice
in affairs of gallantry. They bore for their en-
ſigns, certain curious figures, perched upon long
poles, made into the ſhape and fize of the virga
genitalis, with its appurtenances ; which were To
many ſhadows and emblems of the whole myſtery,
as well as trophies fet up by the female conquerors.
Laſtly, in a certain town of Attica, the whole fo-
lemnity, ſtripped of all its types *, was performed
in puris naturalibus ; the votaries not flying in com
vies, but ſorted into couples. The ſame may be
farther conjectured from the death of Orpheus,
one of the inſtitutors of theſe myſteries; who was
torn in pieces by women, becauſe he refuſed to
communicate his orgies † to them ; which others ex-
plained, by telling us, he had caſtrated himſelf up
on grief, for the loſs of his wife.
* See the particulars in Diod. Sic. l. 1. & 3.
* Dionfia Brauronio.
Vid. Photium, in excerptis è Conone,
I 3
Omitting
222
ON THE MECHANICAL
Omitting many others of leſs note, the next Fa-
natics we meet with of any eminence, were the nu-
merous fects of beretics, appearing in the five first
centuries of the Chriſtian ara, from Simon Magus
and his followers, to thofe of Eutyches. I have
collected their ſyſtems from infinite reading ; and
comparing them with thoſe of their fucceffors in
the ſeveral ages ſince, I find there are certain
bounds ſet even to the irregularity of human
thought, and thoſe a great deal narrower than is
commonly apprehended. Foras they all frequent-
ly interfere, even in their wildeſt ravings ; ſo there
is one fundamental point, wherein they are ſure to
meet, as lines in a centre, and that is, the commu-
nity of women. Great were their ſolicitudes in this
matter; and they never failed of certain articles
in their ſchemes of worſhip, on purpoſe to eſtab-
liſh it.
The laſt fanatics of note, were thoſe which ſtart-
ed up in Germany, a little after the reformation of
Luther; ſpringing, as muſbrcoms do at the end of a
harveſt. Such were John of Leyden, David George,
Adam Neuſter, and many others; whoſe viſions
and revelations always terminated in leading about
half a dozen fiſters 1-piece, and making that practice
a fundamental part of their ſyſtem. For human
life is a continual navigation; and if we expect our
vefjell to paſs with ſafety, through the waves and
tempefts of this fluctuating world ; it is neceſſary
to make a good proviſion of the fleſh, as feamen lay
in ſtore of beef for a long voyage.
Now, from this brief ſurvey of ſome principal
fects among the Fanatics in all ages, (having omit-
ted the Mahometans and others, who might alſo
help to confirm the argument I am about); to
which I might add ſeveral among ourſelves, ſuch as
the family of love, ſweet fingers of Iſrael, and the
like ; and from reflecting upon that fundamental
point in their doctrines, about women, wherein
they
OPERATION OF THE SPIRIT.
223
they have ſo unanimouſly agreed; I am apt to ima-
gine, that the ſeed or principle which has ever put
men upon viſions in things inviſible, is of a corpo-
real nature. For the profounder chymiſts inform
us, that the ſtrongest ſpirits may be extracted from
hunın fleſh. Beſides, the ſpinal marrow, being
nothing elſe but a continuation of the brain, muit
needs create a very free communication between the
ſuperior faculties and thoſe below : And thus the
thorn in the fleſh, ſerves for a Spur to the ſpirit. I
think it is agreed among phyſicians, that nothing
affects the head ſo much, as a tentiginous humour,
repelled and elated to the upper region, found by
daily practice to run frequently up into madneſs.
A very eminent member of the faculty aſſured me,
that when the Quakers firſt appeared, he feldom
was without ſome female patients among them, for
the furor Perſons of a viſionary devotion, ei-
ther men or women, are, in their complexion, of
all others, the moſt amorous. For zeal is frequent-
ly kindled from the fame ſpark with other fires,
and from inflaming brotherly love, will proceed to
raiſe that of a gallant. If we inſpect into the uſual
proceſs of modern courthip, we ſhall find it to con-
fitt in a devout turn of the eyes, called ogling ; an
artificial form of canting and whining, by rote,
every interval, for want of other matter, made up
with a ſhrug, or a hum; a figh, or a groan; the
ſtyle compact of infignificant words, incoherences,
and repetitions. Theſe I take to be the moſt ac-
compliſhed rules of addreſs to a miſtreſs ; ar 1
where are theſe performed with more dexterity,
than by the ſaints? Nay, to bring this argument
yet cloſer, I have been informed by certain fanguine
brethren of the firſt claſs, that in the height and
orgaſmus of their ſpiritual exerciſe, it has been fre-
quent with them
; immediate-
ly after which, they found the ſpirit to relax and
flag of a ſudden with the nerves, and they were
forced
*
224 ON THE MECHANICAL &c.
forced to haſten to a concluſion. This may be far-
ther ſtrengthened, by obſerving with wonder, how
unaccountably all females are attracted by viſionary
or enthuſiaſtic preachers, though never fo con-
temptible in their outward mien; which is uſually
fuppoſed to be done upon confiderations purely
fpiritual, without any carnal regards at all. But I
have reaſon to think, the ſex hath certain charac-
teriſtics, by which they form a truer judgment of
human abilities and performings, than we ourſelves
Can poſſibly do of each other. Let that be as it
will, thus much is certain, that however ſpiritual
intrigues begin, they generally conclude like all o-
thers; they may branch upwards towards heaven, but
the root is in the earth. Too intenſe a contempla-
tion is not the buſineſs of fleſh and blood; it muft,
by the neceſſary courſe of things, in a little time,
let gorits hold, and fall into matter. Lovers, for
the ſake of celeſtial converſe, are but another fort
of Platonics, who pretend to fee ſtars and heaven
in ladies eyes, and to look or think no lower; but
the ſame pit is provided for both. And they ſeem
a perfect moral to the ſtory of that philoſopher,
who, while his thoughts and eyes were fixed upon
the conſtellations, found himfelf ſeduced by his low-
ar parts into a ditch.
Í had ſomewhat more to ſay upon
this
part
of
the ſubject; but the poft is juſt going, which forces
me in great haſte to conclude,
Pray burn this
letter as foon
as it comes to
SIR,
your hands.
rours, &c.
An
[ 2257
An ARGUMENT to prove, that the abo-
.
liſhing of CHRISTIANITY in England,
may, as things now ftand, be attended
with ſome inconveniencies, and perhaps
not produce thoſe many good effects pro-
pored thereby *
Written in the year 1708.
I
AM very ſenſible, what a weakneſs and preſump-
tion it is, to reaſon againſt the general humour
and difpofition of the world. I remember it
was with great juſtice, and a due regard to the
fredom, both of the public and the preſs, forbid-
den, upon fevere penalties, to wiite, or diſcourſe,
*"The argument against aboliſhing Chriſtianity," is carried on
with the higheſt wit and humour. Graver divines threaten iheir
readers with future puniſhments: Swift artfully exhibits a picture of
peſent tham:. Hi judged rightly in imagining, that a ſmall trea.
tiſe written with a ſpirit of mirth and freedom, muſt be more effica-
cous, than long fermons, or laborious leffors of morality. He
endeavours to laugh us into religion ; well knowing, that we are.
often laughed out cfii, Orrery,
The Argument, &c. is the moſt delicate, refined, complete,. unº:
varied piece of irony, from the beginning io the end, ihat ever was.
written fince the creation of the world. And without diſpute, if
in the works of man there can te ſuppoſed any ſuch thing as real
perfection, we muſt allow it to confiit in thoſe amazing productions:
of wit and humour, which in all protability can never be excelled by
any effurt of genius, and beyond which it is impoflible to frame any.
critical or diftis. et idea of the human faculties, With what e-
gregious contempt and ridicule doth he, in this piece, expoſe the
abfurdity of thefe wretches, who are the patrons and abeitors-of vices
Lod irreligion? Swift.
or,
226 AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
or lay wagers againſt the union, even before it was
confirmed by parliament; becauſe that was looked
upon as a deſign to oppoſe the current of the peo-
ple; which, belides the folly of it, is a manifeſt
breach of the fundamental law, that makes this ma-
jority of opinion, the voice of God. In like man-
ner, and for the very fame reaſons, it may perhaps
be neither ſafe nor prudent to argue againſt the a-
boliſhing of Chriſtianity, at a juncture when all
parties appear fo unanimouſly determined upon the
point; as we cannot but allow from their actions,
their diſcourfes, and their writings. However, I
know not how, whether from the affectation of
ſingularity, or the perverſeneſs of human naturc;
but ſo it unhappily falls out, that I cannot be en-
tirely of this opinion. Nay, though I were furcan
order were iſſued for my immediate profecution by
the Attorney-General, I ſhould ſtill confeſs, that,
in the prefent poſture of our affairs at home or a-
broad, I do not yet fee the abfolute neceffity of ex-
tirpating the Chriſtian religion from among us.
This perhaps may appear too great a paradox,
even for our wife and paradoxical age to endure :
therefore I ſhall handle it with all tenderneſs, and
with the utmoſt deference to that great and pro-
found majority, which is of another ſentiment.
And yet the curious may plcaſe to obſerve, how
much the genius of a nation is liable to alter in
half an age. I have heard it affirmed for certain,
by ſome very old people, that the contrary opinion
was, even in their memories, as much in vogue as
the other is now; and that a project for the abo-
liſhing of Chriſtianity, would then have appeared
as ſingular, and been thought as abſurd, as it
would be at this time to write or diſcourſe in its de-
fence.
Therefore I freely own, that all appearances are
againſt me. The fyſtem of the goſpel, after the
fate of other fyftems, is generally antiquated and
exploded;
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
227
exploded; and the maſs or body of the common
people, among whom it ſeems to have had its lateſt
credit, are now grown as much aſhamed of it as
their betters; opinions, like faſhions, always de-
fcending from thoſe of quality to the middle fort,
and thence to the vulgar, where at length they are
dropped, and vaniſh.
But here I would not be miſtaken ; and muſt
therefore be ſo bold as to borrow a diſtinction from
the writers on the other ſide, when they make a
difference between nominal and real Trinitarians.
I hope no reader imagines me ſo weak to ſtand up
in the defence of real Chriſtianity, ſuch as uſed in
primitive times (if we inay believe the authors of
thoſe ages) to have an influence upon mens belief
and actions. To offer at the reſtoring of that,
would indeed be a wild project: It would be to dig
up foundations; to deſtroy at one blow all the wit,
and half the learning of the kingdom; to break
the entire frame and conſtitution of things; to ruin
trade, extinguiſh arts and ſciences, with the profef-
fors.of them; in ſhort, to turn our courts, exchan-
ges, and ſhops into deſerts : and would be full as
abſurd as the propoſal of Horace, where he adviſes
the Romans, all in a body, to leave their city, and
ſeck a new ſeat in ſome remote part of the world,
by way of cure for the corruption of their man-
ners.
Therefore, I think this caution was in itſelf alto.
gether unneceſſary, (which I have inſerted only to
prevent ali poffibility of cavilling :) ſince every can-
did reader will ealily underſtand my diſcourſe to
be intended only in defence of nominal Chriſtiani-
ty; the other having been for ſome time wholly
laid aſide by general conſent, as utterly inconſiſtent
with our preſent ſchemes of wealth and power.
But why we ſhould therefore caſt off the name
and title of Chriſtians, although the general opinion
and reſolution be fo violent for it, I confeſs I can.
not
228 AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
not (wich ſubmiſſion) apprehend, nor is the conſes
quence neceſſary. However, fince the undertakers
propoſe ſuch wonderful advantages to the nation
by this project, and advance many plauſible objec-
tions againſt the ſyſtem of Chriſtianity; I thall
briefly conſider the ſtrength of both, fairly allow
them their greateſt weight, and offer ſuch anfwers
as I think moſt reaſonable. After which I will beg
leave to thew, what inconveniencies may poſſibly
happen, by ſuch an innovation, in the preſent po-
fture of our affairs.
Firſt, One great advantage propoſed by the abo-
liſhing of Chriſtianity is, That it would very much
enlarge and eſtabliſh liberty of conſcience, that
great bulwark of our nation, and of the Proteft.
ant religion; which is ſtill too much limited by
prieſtcraft, notwithſtanding all the good intentions
of the legiſlature; as we have lately found by a fe.
vere inſtance. For it is confidently reported, that
two young gentlemen, of real hopes, bright wit,
and profound judgement, who, upon a thorough
examination of cauſes and effects, and by the mere
force of natural abilities, without the leaſt tincture
of learning, having made a diſcovery, that there
was no God, and generouſly communicating their
thoughts for the good of the public, were ſome
time ago, by an unparallelled feverity, and upon
I
know not what obſolete law, broke only for blaſphe.
my. And, as it hath been wiſely obſerved, if per-
fecution once begins, no man alive knows how far
it may reach, or where it will end.
In anſwer to all which, with deference to wifer
judgements, I think this rather ſhews the neceflity
of a nominal religion among us.
Great wits love
to be free with the higheſt objects; and, if they
cannot be allowed a God to revile or renounce,
they will ſpeak evil of dignities, abuſe the govern-
ment, and reflect upon the mi..iftry; which, I am
fure, few will deny to be o much more pernicious
COIN
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
229
conſequence ; according to the ſaying of Tiberius,
Deurum offenſa diis curæ. As to the particular fact
related, I think it is not fair to argue from one in-
Itance; perhaps another cannot be produced; yet
(to the comfort of all thoſe who may be apprehen-
five of perſecution) blafphemy, we know, is freely
ſpoken a million of times in every coffeehouſe and
tavern, or wherever elſe good company meet. It
muſt be allowed indeed, that to break an Engliſh
free-born officer only for blafphemy, was, to ſpeak
the gentleſt of ſuch an action, a very high ſtrain of
abſolute power. Little can be ſaid in excuíe for
the General. Perhaps he was afraid it might give
offence to the allies, among whom, for aught we
know, it may be the cuſtom of the country to be-
lieve a God But if he argued, as ſome have done,
upon a miſtaken principle, that an officer who is
guilty of ſpeaking blafphemy, may, fome time or
other, proceed ſo far as to raiſe a mutiny ; the
conſequence is by no means to be admitted : For
ſurely the commander of an Engliſh army is like to
be but ill obeyed, whoſe ſoldiers fear and reverence
him as little as they do a Deity.
It is further objected againſt the goſpel-ſyſtem,
That it obliges men to the belief of things too diffi-
cult for freethinkers, and ſuch who have ſhaken
off the prejudices that uſually cling to a confined
education. To which I anſwer, That men ſhould
be cautious how they raiſe objections, which reflect
upon the wiſdom of the nation. Is not every body
freely allowed to believe whatever he pleaſeth, and
to publiſh his belief to the world whenever he
thinks fit, eſpecially if it ferves to ſtrengthen the
party which is in the right ? Would any indifferent
foreigner, who ſhould read the trumpery lately
written by Afgil, Tindal, Toland, Coward *, and
U
forty
VOL.I.
* Afgil wrote an argument to prove, that man may be tranſlated
from hence into eternal life, withiout paſſing through death.
Toland
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
i
forty more, imagine the goſpel to be our rule of
faith, and confirmed by parliaments? Does any
man either believe, or fay he believes, or deſire to
have it thought that he ſays he believes, one-fylla-
ble of the matter? And is any man worſe.received
upon that ſcore; or does he find his want of nomi.
nal faith a diſadvantage to him, in the purſuit of
any civil or military employment? What if there
be an old dormant itatute or two againſt him? Are
they not now obſolete, to a degree, that Empſon
and Dudley themſelves, if they were now alive,
would find it impoſſible to put them in execution?
It is likewiſe urged, That there are, by computa-
tion, in this kingdom, above ten thouſand parfons;
whoſe revenues, added to thoſe of iny Lords the
Bithops, 'would ſuffice to maintain, at leaſt, two
hundred young gentlemen of wit and pleaſure, and
free-thinking ; enemies to prieſtcraft, narrow prin-
ciples, pedantry, and prejudices; who might be an
ornament to the court and town: and then again,
fo great a number of able [bodied] divines, might
be a recruit to our fleet and armies. This, indeed,
appears to be a confideration of ſome weight. But
then, on the other ſide, ſeveral things deſerve to
be confidered likewiſe: As, firſt, whether it may
not be thought neceffary, that in certain tracts of
country, like what we call pariſhes, there ſhould
be one man, at leaſt, of abilities to read and write.
Then it ſeems a wrong computation, that the reve-
nues of the church throughout this iſland, would
be large enough to maintain two hundred young
gentlemen, or even half that number, after the
prefent refined way of living; that is, to allow each
of them ſuch a rent, as, in the modern form of
Toland publiſhed fome deiſtical books.
Tindal's writings were blafphemous and atheiſtical.
Coward afferted the mortality of the foul, and alledged the ſeat of
fuo be in the blood.
ſpeech
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
231
fpeech, would make them eafy. But ſtill there is
in this project a greater mifchief behind; and we
ought to beware of the woman's folly, who killed
the hen that every morning laid her a golden egg.
For; pray, what will become of the race of men in
the next age, if we had nothing to truſt to, beſide
the ſcrophulous-conſumptive productions, furniſh-
ed by our men of wit and pleaſure ; when, having
fquandered away their vigour, health, and eſtates,
they are forced, by ſome diſagreeable marriage, to
piece up their broken fortunes, and entail rotten-
neſs and politeneſs on their poſterity ? Now, here
are ten thouſand perſons reduced, by the wife re-
gulations of Henry VIII. to the neceffity of a low
diet, and moderate exerciſe, who are the only great
reſtorers of our breed; without which, the nation
would, in an age or two, become one great hofpe-
tal.
Another advantage propoſed by the abolifhing
of Chriftianity is, the clear gain of one day, io fe-
ven, which is now entirely loft, and confequently
the kingdom one ſeventh lefs conſiderable in trade,
buſineſs, and pleafure; beſides the loſs to the
pu-
blic, of fo many ſtately ftructures, now in the
hands of the clergy; which might be converted in-
to play-houſes, market-houſes, exchanges, common
dormitories, and other public edifices.
I hope I ſhall be forgiven a hard word, if I call
this a perfect cavil. I readily own there hath been
an old cuſtom, time out of mind, for people to af-
ſemble in the churches every Sunday; and that
fhops are ſtill frequently ſhut, in order, as it is
conceived, to preſerve the memory of that ancient
practice. But how this can prove a hindrance to
buſineſs or pleaſure, is hard to imagine. What if
the men of pleaſure are forced, one day in the
week, to game at home, inſtead of the chocolate
houſe? Are not the taverns and coffeehouſes open ?
Can there be a more convenient feaſon for taking
U 2
a
232
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
BE
fleep?
a doſe of phyſic? Are fewer claps got upon Sun.
days than other days ? Is not that the chief day for
traders to ſum up the accounts of the week; and
for lawyers to prepare their briefs? But I would
fain know how it can be pretended, that the
churches are miſapplied? Where are more appoint-
ments and rendezvouſes of gallantry? where more
care to appear in the foremoſt box, with greater
advantage of dreſs? where more meetings for bu-
Gnefs ? where more bargains driven of all ſorts ?
and where ſo many conveniencies or incitements to
There is one advantage, greater than any of the
foregoing, propoſed by the aboliſhing of Chriſtia-
nity, That it will utterly extinguiſh parties among
us, by removing thofe factious diſtinctions of High
and Low Church, of whig and Tory, Preſbyterian
and Church of England; which are now ſo many
grievous clogs upon public proceedings, and are
apt to diſpoſe men to prefer the gratifying them-
felves, or depreffing their adverſaries, before the
moſt important intereft of the ſtate.
I confeſs, if it were certain, that ſo great an ad:
vantage would redound to the nation by this expe.
dient, I would fubmit, and be filent. But will any
man fay, that if the words whoring, drinking, cheat-
ing, lying, ſtealing, were, by act of parliament, e-
jected out of the Engliſh tongue and dictionaries,
we ſhould all awake next morning chaſte and ten-
perate, honeſt and juſt, and lovers of truth? Is
this a fair conſequence ? Or, if the phyſicians
would forbid us to pronounce the words pox, gout,
rheumatiſm, and ſtone, would that expedient ſerve,
like ſo many taliſmans, to deſtroy the diſeaſes them-
ſelves ? Are party and faction rooted in mens hearts
no deeper than phrafes borrowed from religion, or
founded upon no firmer principles ? And is our
language ſo poor, that we cannot find other terms
to expreſs them? Are envy, pride, avarice, and
ambition,
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
233
ambition, ſuch ill nomenclators, that they cannot
furnith appellations for their owners? Will not
Heydukes and Mamalukes, Mandarines and Pat/baws,
or any other words formed at pleaſure, ſerve to
diſtinguiſh thoſe who are in the miniſtry, from o-
thers who would be in it if they could? What, for
inſtance, is eaſier than to vary the form of ſpeech;
and, inſtead of the word church, make it a queſtion
in politics, whether the monument be in danger?
Becauſe religion was neareſt at hand to furnith a
few convenient phraſes, is our invention fo barren,
we can find no other? Suppoſe, for argument's
fake, that the Tories favoured Margarita, the IVhigs
Mrs. Tofts, and the Trimmers Valentini *; would
not Margaritians, Toftians, and Valentinians, be
very tolerable marks of diſtinction ? The Prafini
and Veniti, two moſt virulent factions in Italy, be-
gan (if I remember right) by a diſtinction of colours
in ribbands : and we might contend, with as good
a grace, about the dignity of the blue and the green;
which would ſerve as properly to divide the court,
the parliament, and the kingdom between them,
as any terms of art whatſoever borrowed from reli-
gion. And therefore I think there is little force
in this objection againſt Chriftianity, or proſpect
of fo great an advantage as is propoſed in the abo-
lifhing of it.
It is again objected, as a very abſurd ridiculous
cuſtom, That a fer of men should be ſufferedi
much leſs employed and hired, to bawl one day in
ſeven, againſt the lawfulneſs of thoſe methods moſt
in uſe towards the purſuit of greatneſs, riches, and
pleaſure, which are the conſtant practice of all
men alive on the other fix. But this objection is,
I think, a little unworthy fo refined an age as ours.-
:
* Italian (ingers then in vogue. Marguarita was afierwards mare
tied to Dr. Pepuſche.
U 3
lict
234
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
Let us argue this matter calmly. I appeal to the
breaſt of any polite freethinker, whether, in the
purſuit of gratifying a predominant paffion, he
hath not always felt a wonderful incitement, by
reflecting it was a thing forbidden; and therefore
we fee, in order to cultivate this taſte, the wiſdom
of the nation hath taken ſpecial care, that the la-
dies ſhould be furniſhed with prohibited filks, and
the men with prohibited wine. And indeed it were
to be wiſhed, that ſome other prohibitions were
promoted, in order to improve the pleaſures of
the town; which, for want of ſuch expedients,
begin already, as I am told, to flag and grow lan-
guid, giving way daily to cruel inroads from the
ſpleen.
It is likewiſe propoſed, as a great advantage to
the public, That if we once diſcard the ſyſtem of
the goſpel, all religion will of courſe be baniſhed
for ever; and conſequently, along with it, thoſe
grievous prejudices of education; which, under
the names of virtue, confcience, honour, juſtice, and
the like, are fo apt to diſturb the peace of human
minds; and the notions whereof are ſo hard to be
eradicated by right reaſon or freethinking, fome-
times during the whole courſe of our lives.
Here, firſt, I obſerve bow difficult it is to get rid
of a phraſe, which the world is once grown fond
of, though the occaſion that firſt produced it be
entirely taken away. For ſeveral years paſt, if a
man had but an ill-favoured noſe, the deep-think-
ers of the age would, ſome way or other, contrive
to impute the cauſe to the prejudice of his educa-
tion. From this fountain are ſaid to be derived all
our fooliſh notions of juſtice, piety, love of our
country all our opinions of God, or a future
ſtate, heaven, hell, and the like: and there might
formerly, perhaps, have been ſome pretence for
this charge. But fo effectual care hath been ſince
taken to remove thoſe prejudices, by an entire
change
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY. 239
change in the method of education, that (with ho-
nour I mention it to our polite innovators) the
young gentlemen who are now on the ſcene, 'feem
io have not the leaſt tincture left of thoſe infuſions,
or ſtring of thoſe weeds; and, by conſequence, the
reaſon for aboliſhing nominal Chriſtianity upon
that pretext, is wholly ceaſed.
For the reſt, it may perhaps admit a controverſy,
whether the baniſhing all notions of religion what.
ſoever would be convenient for the vulgar. Not
that I am, in the leaſt, of, opinion with thoſe who
hold religion to have been the invention of politi-
cians, to keep the lower part of the world in awe,
by the fear of inviſible powers : unleſs mankind
were then very different from what it is now: for
I look upon the maſs or body of our people here
in England, to be as free thinkers, that is to fay,
as ſtanch unbelievers, as any of the higheſt rank.
But I conceive ſome ſcattered notions about a fupe-
rior power to be of fingular uſe for the common
people, as furniſhing excellent materials to keep
children quiet when they grow peevith, and pro-
viding topics of amuſement in a tedious winter-
night.
Laſtly, it is propoſed, as a ſingular advantage,
That the aboliſhing of Chriſtianity will very much
contribute to the uniting of Proteſtants, by enlarg-
ing the terms of communion, ſo as to take in all
ſorts of diſenters; who are now ſhut out of the pale,
upon account of a few ceremonies, which all fides
confeſs to be things indifferent: That this alone
will effectually anſwer the great ends of a ſcheme
for comprehenſion, by opening a large noble gate,
at which all bodies may enter; whereas the chaffer.
ing with diffenters, and dodging about this or the
other ceremony, is but like opening a few wickets,
and leaving them at jar, by which no more than
one can get in at a time, and that not without ſtoop-
ing and lideling, and ſqueezing his body.
To
236 AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
To all this I anſwer, That there is one darling
inclination of mankind, which uſually affects to be
a retainer to religion, though ſhe be neither its pa-
rent, its godmotlier, or its friend; I mean the fpi-
rit of oppoſition, that lived long before Chriftia-
nity, and can calily ſubfift without it. Let us, for
inſtance, examine wherein the oppoſition of fecta-
ries among us conſiſts. We ſhall find Chriſtianity
to have no ſhare in it at all. Does the goſpel any
where preſcribe a ſtarched ſqueezed countenance, a
stiff formal gait, a ſingularity of manners and ha-
bit, or any affected modes of ſpeech, different from
the reaſonable part of mankind ? Yet, if Chriſtia-
nity did not lend its name to ſtand in the gap, and
to employ or divert theſe humours, they muſt of
neceflity be ſpent in contraventions to the laws of
the land, and diſturbance of the public peace.
There is a portion of enthufiafin affigned to every
nation, which, if it hath not proper objects to work
on, will burſt out, and fet all in a flame. If the
quiet of a ſtate can be bought by only flinging men
a few ceremonies to devour, it is a purchaſe no wiſe
man would refuſe. Let the maſtiffs amuſe thein-
felves about a ſheep's ſkin ſtuffed with hay, provid-
ed it will keep them from worrying the flock. The
inſtitution of convents abroad ſeems in one point a
great ſtrain of wiſdom; there being few irregula-
rities in human paffions, that may not have recourſe
to vent themſelves in ſome of thoſe orders; whịch
are ſo many retreats for the ſpeculative, the melan-
choly, the proud, the filent, the politic, and the
moroſe, to ſpend themſelves, and evaporate the
noxious particles : for each of whom we in this
iſland are forced to provide a ſeveral fect of reli-
gion, to keep them quiet. And whenever Chriſti-
anity ſhall be aboliſhed, the legiſlature muſt find
ſome other expedient to employ and entertain them.
For what imports it how large a gate you open,
if
there
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
237
there will be always left a number, who place a pride
and a merit in refuſing to enter?
Having thus conſidered the moſt important ob
jections againſt Chriftianity, and the chief advan-
tages propoſed by the aboliſhing thereof; I ſhall
now, with equal deference and ſubmiſſion to wifer
judgements as before, proceed to mention a few in.
conveniencies that may happen, if the goſpel ſhould
be repealed; which perhaps the projectors may not
have ſufficiently confidered.
And, firkt, I am very fenſible how much the gen-
tlemen of wit and pleaſure are apt to murmur, and
be ſhocked at the light of ſo many daggled-tail par-
fons, who happened to fall in their way, and offend
their eyes. But, at the fame time, theſe wife re-
formers do not conſider, what an advantage and fe-
licity it is, for great wits to be always provided with
objects of ſcorn and contempt, in order to exercife
and improve their talents, and divert their ſpleen
froin falling on each other, or on themſelves; er-
pecially when all this may be done without the leaft
iinaginable danger to their perfons.
And to urge another argument of a parallel na-
ture : If Chriſtianity were once abolithed, how
could the free-thinkers, the ſtrong reaſoners, and
the men of profound learning, be able to find an-
other ſubject fo.calculated in all points, whereon to
diſplay their abilities? What wonderful produc-
tions of wit fhould we be deprived of, from thoſe
whoſe genius, by continual practice, hath been
wholly turned upon raillery and invectives againſt
religion, and would therefore never be able to
ſhine or diftinguiſh themſelves upon any other
ſubject? We are daily complaining of the great
decline of wit among us; and would we take a-
way the greateſt, perhaps the only topic we
have left? Who would ever have ſuſpected Afgil
for a wit, or Toland for a philofopher, if the in-
exhauſtible ſtock of Chriſtianity had not been at
band
2:38
AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
hand to provide them with materials? What other
ſubject, through all art or nature, could have pro-
duced Tindal for a profound author, or furniſhed
him with readers? It is the wife choice of the fub.
gect that alone adorns and diſtinguithes the writer,
For had an hundred ſuch pens as theſe been cm-
ployed on the fide of religion, they would have im-
mediately funk into ſilence and oblivion.
Nor do I think it wholly groundleſs, or my fears
altogether imaginary, that the aboliſhing Chriſtia-
nity may perhaps bring the church in danger, or at
leaſt put the fenate to the trouble of another ſecur-
ing vote. I deſire I may not be miſtaken ; I am far
from prefuming to affirm, or think, that the church
is in danger at preſent, or as things now. ſtand; but
we know not how foon it may be ſo, when the
Chriſtian religion is repealed. As plauſible as this
project ſeems, there may be a dangerous deſign lurk-
ing under it. Nothing can be more notorious than
that the Atheiſts, Deiſts, Socinians, Anti-trinitarians,
and other ſubdiviſions of free-thinkers, are perſons
of little zeal for the preſent ecclefiaftical eſtablish-
ment. Their declared opinion is for repealing the
facramental teft; they are very indifferent with re-
gard to ceremonies; nor do they hold the jus divi-
num of Epiſcopacy. Therefore this may be intend-
ed as one politic ſtep towards altering the conſtitu
tion of the church eſtabliſhed, and ſetting up Pref.
bytery in the ſtead ; - which I leave to be further
conſidered by thoſe at the helm.
In the laſt place, I think nothing can be more
plain, than that, by this expedient, we ſhall run
into the evil we chiefly pretend to avoid ; and that
the aboliſhment of the Chriſtian religion will be the.
readieſt courſe we can take to introduce Popery.
And I am the more inclined to this opinion, be-
caufe we know it hath been the conſtant practice of
the Jeſuits, to fend over emiffaries, with inſtruc-
tions, to perfonate themſelves. members of the fe-
veral
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY.
239
.
i
veral prevailing fects among us. So it is recorded,
that they have at fundry times appeared in the guiſe
of Prefbyterians, Anabaptifts, Independents, and
Quakers, according as any of theſe were moſt in
credit : fo, ſince the faſhion hath been taken
up
of
exploding religion, the Popiſh miffionaries have not
been wanting to mix with the freethinkers; among
whom Toland, the great oracle of the Anti-chriſtiansa
is an Iriſh prieſt, the ſon of an Iriſh prieſt ; and
the inoſt learned and ingenious author of a book
called the rights of the Chriſtian church, was, in a
proper juncture, reconciled to the Romith faith
whoſe true fon, as appears by a hundred paſſages
in his treatiſe, he ſtill continues. Perhaps I could
add fome others to the number : but the fact is be-
rond diſpute. And the reaſoning they proceed boy
is right : for fuppofing Chriſtianity to be extin-
guithed, the people will never be at caſe till they
find out ſome other method of worſhip; which
will as infallibly produce ſuperſtition, as ſuperſti,
tion will end in Popery.
And therefore, if, notwithſtanding all I have
ſaid, it ſtill be thought neceſſary to have a bill
brought in for repealing Chriſtianity, I would hum-
bly offer an amendment, that inſtead of the word
Chriſtianity, may be put religion in general; which,
I conceive, will much better anſwer all the good
ends propoſed by the projectors of it. For as long
as we leave in being a God and his providence, with
all the neceſſary conſequences which curious and
inquiſitive men will be apt to draw from ſuch pre-
miſſes; we do not ſtrike at the root of the evil,
though we ſhould ever fo effectually annihilate the
preſent ſcheme of the goſpel. For of what uſe is
freedom of thought, if it will not produce freedom
of action ; which is the ſole end, how remote foe-
ver in appearance, of, all.objections againſt Chriſti-
anity ? and therefore the freethinkers conſider it as
a ſort of edifice, wherein all the parts have ſuch a
inutua!
240 AN ARGUMENT AGAINST
mutual dependence on each other, that, if you
happen to pull out one ſingle nail, the whole fabric
muſt fall to the ground. This was happily expreſſed
by him, who had heard of a text brought for proof
of the Trinity, which in an ancient manuſcript was
differently read; he thereupon immediately took
the hint, and, by a ſudden deduction of a long
forites *, moſt logically concluded, Why, if it be
as you ſay, I may fafely whore and drink on, and
defy the parſon. From which, and many the like
inſtances, eaſy to be produced, I think nothing
can be inore manifeſt, than that the quarrel is not
againſt any particular points of hard digeſtion in
the Chriſtian ſyſtem; but againſt religion in gene-
ral; which, by laying reſtraints on human nature,
is ſuppoſed the great enemy to the freedom of
thought and action.
Upon the whole, if it ſhall ſtill be thought for
the benefit of church and ſtate, that Chriſtianity
be aboliſhed; I conceive, however, it may be more
convenient to defer the execution to a time of peace;
and not venture in this conjuncture to difoblige our
allics; who, as it falls out, are all Chriſtians; and
many of them, by the prejudices of their educa-
tion, fo bigotted, as to place a ſort of pride in the
appellation. If, upon being rejected by them, we
are to truſt to an alliance with the Turk, we ſhall
find ourſelves much deceived: for as he is too re-
mote, and generally engaged in war with the Per-
fian Emperor, ſo his people would be more fcanda-
lized at our infidelity, than our Chriſtian neigh-
bours. For the Turks are not only ſtrict obſervers
of religious worſhip; but, what is worſe, believe a
God; which is more than is required of us, even
while we preſerve the name of Chriſtians.
* A forites differs from a Syllogiſm, in that it takes only the minor
propofition. An example of this figure may be ſeen, vot. s. in John
Bull, part 2. chap. 17. Qcar the end.
То
ABOLISHING CHRISTIANITY. 241
To conclude : Whatever fome may think of the
great advantages to trade by this favourite ſcheme,
I do very much apprehend, that in ſix months time
after the act is paffed for the extirpation of the gor-
pel, the Bank and Eaſt-India ſtock may fall, at
least, one per cent. And ſince that is 'fifty times
more than ever the wiſdom of our age thought fit
to venture for the preſervation of Chriſtianity, there
is no reaſon we ſhould be at fo great a loſs, merely
for the ſake of deſtroying it.
100
.
VOL.I.
X
A
[ 242 )
A Project for the ADVANCEMENT of Reli-
GION and the REFORMATION of MAN-
NERS *
By a PERSON of QUALITY.
Written in the Year 1709.
To the Counteſs of BERKLEY 1.
MADAM,
Y intention in prefixing your Ladyſhips
name, is not, after the common form, to
deſire your protection of the following
papers ; which I take to be a very unreaſonable re-
M
* The author appears in earneſt throughout this whole treatiſe ;
and the dedication, or introduction, is in a train of ſerious panegyric
which the Lady, to whom it is addreſled, undoubtedly deſerved.
But as the pamphlet is of the ſatirical kind, I am apt to imagine,
that the Dean put a violence upon himſelf, in chuſing to appear can.
didly ſerious, rather than to ſmile under his uſual maſk of gravity.
Meihinks, upon theſe occaſions, I perceive him writing in ſhakles.
Orrery.
In the Projiel, &c. Dr. Swift appears in the character of a great
inſpired prophet. He crieth aluud, be ſparerb not, be lifteth up bis voice
like a trumpet, If. Iviii. 1. He rebuketh all ranks of men for their
depravities and corruptions, their profaneneſs, their blafphemy and ir-
religion. His diſcourſe he addreſleth unto his ſovereign, and, beyond
all contradiction, proveth it to be an important duty incumbent on
all princes, to encourage and inforce morals and religion, by exert-
ing theirutmoſt authority. He then applieth himſelf to the legiſla-
ture, conjuring them to forward ſo noble a deſign, and provide reme:
dies againſt that torrent of iniquity, which, if not vigorouſly oppoſed,
would certainly increaſe, and never ſtop in its career, until it ſubverte
ed the conſtitution. And, finally, be declares, in the prophetic ſtyle
and ſpirit, that a reformation of manners, and turning unto God, are
the beſt natural as well as religious means, to bring the war to an hap-
py concluſion. Swifi.
+ This excellent Lady was Eliſabeth, the daughter Baptift
Noel, Viſcount Campden, and ſiſter to Edward Earl of Gainſbu.
rough.
queſt;
A PROJECT, etc.
243
queſt ; fince, by being infcribed to your Ladyſhip,
though without your knowledge, and from a con-
cealed hand, you cannot recommend them without
fome fufpicion of partiality. My real deſign is, I.
confefs, the very fame I have often dereſted in moſt
dedications; that of publiſhing your praiſes to the
world ; not upon the ſubject of your noble birth;
for I know others as noble; or of the greatneſs of
your fortune, for I know others far greater; or of
that beautiful race, (the images of their parents),
which calls you mother; for even this may perhaps
have been equalled in fome other age or country.
Beſides, none of theſe advantages do derive any
accompliſhments to the owners, but ſerve, at beſt,
only to adorn what they really poffefs. What I in-
tend, is your piety, truth, good fenfe and good
nature, affability and charity; wherein I wiſh your
Ladyſhip had many equals, or any fuperiors; and
with I could fay I knew them too, for then your
Ladyſhip might have had a chance to eſcape this
addreſs. In the mean time, I think it highly ne-
ceffary, for the intereſt of virtue and religion, that
the whole kingdom ſhould be informed in ſome
parts of your character : for inſtance, that the
eaſieſt and politeſt converſation, joined with the
trueſt piety, may be obſerved in your Ladyſhip, in
as great perfection as they were ever feen apart in
any other perſons: That, by your prudence and
management under ſeveral diſadvantages, you have
preſerved the luftre of that moft noble fainily into
which you are graffed, and which the unmeafura-
ble profuſion of anceſtors, for many generations,
had too much eclipſed: Then how happily you
perform every office of life, to which providence
hath called you ;' in the education of thoſe two in-
comparable daughters, whoſe conduct is ſo univer-
fally admired; in every duty of a prudent, com-
plying, affectionate wife; in that care which de-
fcends to the meaneſt of your domeftics ; and,
laſtly,
X 2
244
A PROJECT FOR THE
laſtly, in that endleſs bounty to the poor, and dif-
cretion where to diſtribute it. I inſiſt on my opi-
nion, that it is of importance for the public, to
know this, and a great deal more of your Lady.
ſhip; yet whoever goes about to inforın thein,
ſhall, inſtead of finding credit, perhaps be cenſur-
ed for a flatter. To avoid fo uſual a reproach,
I
declare this to be no dedication, but merely an in-
troduction to a propoſal for the advancement of
religion and morals, by tracing, however imper-
fectly, fome few. lineaments in the character of a
Lady, who hath ſpent all her life in the practice
and promotion of both.
A
this projecting age, I have obſerved, with ſome
diſpleaſure, that there have never been any for the
improvement of religion and morals: which, be-
fides the piety of the deſign from the conſequence
of ſuch a reformation in a future life, would be the
beſt natural means for advancing the public felicity
of the ſtate, as well as the preſent happineſs of eve-
ry individual. For as much as faith and morality
are declined among us, I am altogether confident,
they might, in a ſhort time, and with no very great
trouble, be raiſed to as high a perfection as num-
bers are capable of receiving. Indeed the method
is fo eafy and obvious, and ſome preſent opportu-
nities ſo good, that, in order to have this project
reduced to practice, there ſeems to want nothing
more than to put thoſe in mind, who, by their
honour, duty, and: intereſt, are chiefly concern-
cd.
But becauſe it is idle to propoſe remedies before
we are aſſured of the diſeaſe, or to be in fear till
we are convinced of the danger; I ſhall firſt thew
in general, that the nation is extremely corrupted
in religion and morals; and then I will offer a thort
ſcheme for the reformation of both.
As
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 245
As to the firſt, I know it is reckoned but a form
of ſpeech, when divines complain of the wicked.
neſs of the age. However, I believe, upon a fair
compariſon with other times and countries, it would
be found an undoubted truth.
For, firſt, to deliver nothing but plain matter of
fact, without exaggeration or ſatire, l.fuppofe it
will be granted, that hardly one in an hundred a.
mong our people of quality or gentry appears to
act by any principle of religion; that great num.
bers of them do entirely diſcard it, and are ready
to own their diſbelief of all revelation in ordinary
diſcourſe. Nor is the caſe much better among the
vulgar, eſpecially in great towns, where the pro-
faneneſs and ignorance of handicraftſmen, ſmall
traders, ſervants, and the like, are to a degree ve
ry hard to be imagined greater. Then it is obſery-
ed abroad, that no race of mortals hath fo little
ſenſe of religion, as the English ſoldiers. To.con.
firm which, I have been often told by great officers
of the army, that, in the whole compaſs of their
acquaintance, they could not recollect three of
their profeſſion, who ſeemed to regard or believe
one fyllable of the goſpel. And the ſame, at leaſt,
may be affirmed of the fleet. The conſequences of
all which upon the actions of men, are equally ma.
nifeſt. They never go about, as in former times,
to hide or palliate their vices, but expoſe them free-
ly to view, like any other common occurrences of
life, without the leaſt reproach from the world or
themſelves. For inſtance, any man will tell you,
he intends to be drunk this evening, or was ſo laſt
night, with as little ceremony or ſcruple, as he
would tell you the time of the day. He will let
you know he is going to a wench, or that he has
got a clap, with as much indifferency, as he would
a piece of public news. He will fwear, curfe, or
blafpheme, without the leaſt paſſion or provoca-
tion. And though all regard for reputation is not
X 3
quite
246 A PROJECT FOR THE
quite laid aſide in the other ſex, it is however at fo
low an ebb, that very few among them ſeem to
think virtue and conduct of any neceflity for pre-
ferving it. If this be not fo, how comes it to paſs
that women of tainted reputations find the ſame
countenance and reception in all public places, with
thoſe of the niceſt virtue, who pay and receive vi-
fits from them without any manner of ſcruple?
Which proceeding, as it is not very old among us,
fo I take it to be of moſt pernicious conſequence
It looks like a ſort of compounding between virtue
and vice; as if a woman were allowed to be vitious,
provided the be not a profligate ; as if there were
a certain point where gallantry ends, and infamy
begins ; or that an hundred criminal amours were
not as pardonable as half a ſcore.
Befides thoſe corruptions already mentioned, it
would be endleſs to enumerate ſuch as ariſe from
the exceſs of play or gaming; the cheats, the quar-
rels, the oaths, and blafphemies, among the men;
Among the women, the neglect of houſehold-affairs,
the unlimited freedoms, the indecent paffion; and,
laſtly, the known inlet to all lewdneſs, when after
an ill run the perſon muſt anſwer the defects of the
purſe: the rule on ſuch occaſions holding true in
play, as it does in law, Quod non habet in crumena,
luat in corpore.
But all theſe are trifles in compariſon, if we ſtep
into other ſcenes, and conſider the fraud and co-
zenage of trading men and ſhopkeepers; that in-
fatiable gulf of injuſtice and oppreſſion, the law;
the open traffic for all civil and military employ.
ments, (I wiſh it refted there *), without the leaſt
regard to merit or qualifications; the corrupt ma-
nagement of men in office; the many deteſtable
abuſes in chufing thoſe who repreſent the people ;
with the management of intereſts and factions a-
• Perhaps the author intended to intimate that it extended to ec-
clefiaftical
mong
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 249
mong the repreſentatives : to which I muſt be bold
to add, the ignorance of ſome of the lower clergy;
the mean ſervile teinper of others; the pert prag.
matical demeanour of ſeveral young ſtagers in di-
vinity, upon their firſt producing themſelves into
the world; with many other circumſtances need.
leſs, or rather invidious to mention ; which falling
in with the corruptions already related, have, how-
ever unjuſtly, almoſt rendered the whole order con-
temptible.
This is a ſhort view of the general depravities a-
mong us, without entering into particulars, which
would be an endleſs labour. Now, as univerſal
and deep-rooted as theſe appear to be, I am utter-
ly
, deceived, if an effectual remedy might not be ap-
plied to moſt of them ; neither am I at preſent
upon a wild ſpeculative project, but ſuch a one as
may be eaſily put in execution.
For, while the prerogative of giving all employ-
ments continues in the crown, either immediately,
or by ſubordination, it is in the power of the prince
to make piety and virtue become the faſhion of the
age, if at the ſame time he would make them necef-
fary qualifications for favour and preferment.
It is clear from preſent experience, that the bare
example of the beſt prince will not have any migh-
ty influence, where the age is very corrupt. For
when was there ever a better prince on the throne
than the preſent Queen? I do not talk of her ta-
lent for government, her love of the people, or
any other qualities that are purely regal ; but her
piety, charity, temperance, conjugal love, and
whatever other virtues do beſt adorn a private life;
wherein, without queſtion or flattery, The hath no
ſuperior ; yet neither will it be ſatire, or peeviſh
invective, to affirm, that infidelity and vice are not
much diminiſhed ſince her coming to the crown;
nor will, in probability, till more effectual reme-
dies be provided
Thus
248
A PROJECT TOR THE
Thus human nature ſeems to lie under the dir.
advantage, that the example alone of a vitious
prince will in time corrupt an age, but the example
of a good one will not be ſufficient to reform it
without further endeavours. Princes muſt there-
fore ſupply this defect by a vigorous exerciſe of
that authority which the law has left them, by
making it every man's intereſt and honour to cul-
tivate religion and virtue, by rendering vice a dif-
grace, and the certain ruin to preferment or pre-
tenſions : all which they ſhould firſt attempt in
their own courts and families. For inſtance, might
not the queen's domeſtics of the middle and lower
fort be obliged, upon penalty of ſuſpenſion or loſs
of their employments, to a conſtant weekly attend-
ance on the ſervice of the church; to a decent
behaviour in it; to receive the facrament four
times a year ; to avoid ſwearing, and irreligious
profane diſcourſes; and to the appearance at leaſt
of temperance and chaſtity? Might not the care of
all this be committed to the ſtrict infpeclion of pro-
per officers ? Might not thoſe of higher rank, and
nearer accefs to her Majeſty, receive her own com-
mands to the fame purpoſe, and be countenanced
or disfavoured according as they obey ? Might not
the Queen lay her injunctions on the biſhops, and o-
ther great men of undoubted piety, to make diligent
inquiry, and give her notice, if any perſon about her
ſhould happen to be of libertine principles or morals?
Might not all thoſe who enter upon any office in
her Majeſty's family, be obliged to take an oath
parallel with that againſt fimony, which is admi-
niſtered to the clergy? It is not to be doubted, but
that, if theſe or the like proceedings were duly ob-
ſerved, morality and religion would ſoon become
faſhionable court-virtues, and be taken up as the
only methods to get or keep employments there ;
which alone would have mighty influence upon
many of the nobility and principal gentry..
But
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
249
But if the like methods were purſued as far as
poſſible with regard to thoſe who are in the great
employments of ſtate, it is hard to conceive how
general a reformation they might in time produce
among us. For if piety and virtue were once rec-
koned qualifications neceflary to preferment, every
man thus endowed, when put into great ſtations,
would readily imitate the Queen's example in the
diſtribution of all offices in his difpofał ; eſpecially
if any apparent tranfgreffion through favour or
partiality would be imputed to him for a miſde.
meanor, by which he muſt certainly forfeit his fa.
vour and ſtation. And there being ſuch great num.
bers in employment, ſcattered through every town
and county in this kingdom, if all theſe were ex-
emplary in the conduct of their lives, things would
foon take a new face, and religion receive a mighty
encouragement. Nor would the public weal be
leſs advanced ; fince of nine offices in ten that are
ill executed, the defect is not in capacity or under-
ſtanding, but in common honeſty. I know no em:
ployment, for which piety diſqualifies any man;
and if it did, I doubt the objection would not be
very featonably offered at preſent; becauſe it is,
perhaps, too juít a reflection, that, in the diſpoſal
of places, the queſtion, whether a perſon be fit for
what he is recommended to ? is generally the laſt
that is thought on or regarded.
I have often imagined, that ſomething parallel
to the office of cenſors anciently in Rome, would
be of mighty uſe among us, and could be eafi-
ly limited from running into any exorbitances.
The Romans underſtood liberty at leaſt as well
as we, were as jealous of it, and upon every occa-
ſion as bold aſſerters : Yet I do not remember to
have read any great complaints of the abuſes in
that office among them; but many adınirable ef-
fects of it are left upon record. There are ſeveral
pernicious vices frequent and notorious among us,
that
250 A PROJECT FOR THE
that efcape or ehide the puniſhment of any lat we
have yet invented, or have had no law at all againft
them; ſuch as atheiſin, drunkenneſs, fraud, ava-
rice, and ſeveral others; which, by this inſtitu-
tion, wiſely regulated, might be much reformed.
Suppoſe, for intance, that itinerary commiſſion-
ers were appointed to inſpect, every where through-
out the kingdom, into the conduct (at leaſt) of
men in office, with refpect to their morals and re-
ligion, as well as their abilities; to receive the com-
plaints and informations that thould be offered a-
gainſt them, and make their report here upon oath
to the court or the miniſtry, who ſhould reward
or puniſh accordingly. I avoid entering into the
particulars of this or any other ſcheme ; which
coming from a private hand, might be liable to
many defects, but would ſoon be digeſted by the
wiſdom of the nation. And, ſurely, fix thouſand
pounds a year would not be ill laid out among as
many commiſſioners duly qualified, who in three
diviſions ſhould be perfonally obliged to take their
yearly circuits for that purpoſe.
But this is beſide my prefent deſign, which was
only to fhew what degree of reforination is in the
power of the queen, without the interpofition of
the legiſlature; and which her Majeſty is, with-
out queſtion, obliged in conſcience to endeavour
by her authority, as much as the doth by her
practice.
It will be eaſily granted, that the example of
this great town hath a mighty influence over the
whole kingdom ; and it is as manifeſt, that the
town is equally influenced by the court, and the
miniſtry, and thoſe who, by their employments or
their hopes, depend upon them. Now, if under
ſo excellent a princeſs as the prefent queen, we
would ſuppoſe a family ſtrictly regulated, as I have
above propoſed; a ininiſtry where every ſingle perſon
was of diſtinguiſhed piety; if we ſhould ſuppoſe all
great
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 251
great offices of ſtate and law filled after the ſame
manner, and with ſuch as were equally diligent in
chuſing perſons, who, in their ſeveral fubordina-
tions, would be obliged to follow the examples of
their ſuperiors, under the penalty of loſs of favour
and place ; will not every body grant, that the em-
pire of vice and irreligion would be foon deſtroyed
in this great metropolis, and receive a terrible blow
through the whole iſland, which hath fo great an
intercourſe with it, and ſo much affects to follow
its faſhions ?
For, if religion were once underſtood to be the
neceſſary ſtep to favour and preferment, can it be
imagined that any man would openly offend againſt
it, who had the leaſt regard for his reputation or
his fortune? There is no quality ſo contrary to any
nature, which men cannot affect, and put on upon
occaſion, in order to ſerve an intereſt, or gratify a
prevailing paflion. The proudeſt man will per-
fonate humility, the moroſeſt learn to flatter, the
lazieſt will be fedulous and active, where he is in
purſuit of what he hath much at heart : How rea-
dy therefore would moſt inen be to ſtep into the
paths of virtue and piety, if they infallibly led to
favour and fortune !
If fwearing and profaneneſs, fcandalous and a-
vowed lewdneſs, exceſſive gaming and intempe-
rance, were a little diſcountenanced in the army, I
cannot readily ſee what ill conſequences could be
apprehended. If gentlemen of that profeffion were
at leaſt obliged to ſome external decorum in their
conduct; or even if a profligate life and character
were not a means of advancement, and the ap-
pearance of piety a moit infallible hindrance, it is
impoſſible the corruptions there ſhould be ſo uni-
verſal and exorbitant. I have been aſſured' by fe-
veral great officers, that no troops abroad are ſo
ill diſciplined as the Engliſh ; which cannot well be
otherwiſe, while the common ſoldiers have per-
petually
252 A PROJECT FOR THE
petually before their eyes, the vitious example of
their leaders; and it is hardly poffible for thoſe to
commit any crime, whereof thefe are not infinitely
more guilty, and with leſs temptation,
It is commonly charged upon the gentlemen of
the army, that the beaſtly vice of drinking to ex-
cefs hath been lately, from their example, reſtored
among us; which, or ſome years, before was almoſt
dropt in England. But, whoever the introducers
were, they have ſucceeded to a miracle ; many of
the young nobility and gentry are already become
great proficients, and are under no manner of con-
cern to hide their talent, but are got beyond all
ſenſe of ſhame, or fear of reproach.
This might ſoon be remedied, if the Queen
would think fit to declare, that no young perſon of
quality whatſoever, who was notoriouſly addicted
to that or any other vice, ſhould be capable of her
favour, or even admitted into her preſence; with
poſitive command to her miniſters, and others in
great office, to treat them in the fame manner :
After which, all men who had any regard for their
reputation, or any proſpect of preferment, would
avoid their commerce. This would quickly make
that vice fo fcandalous, that thoſe, who could not
ſubdue, would at leaſt endeavour to diſguiſe it.
By the like methods a ſtop might be put to that
ruinons practice of deep gaming : And the reaſon
why it prevails fo much, is, becauſe a treatment
directly oppoſite in every point, is made uſe of to
promote it; by which means, the laws enacted
againſt this abufe, are wholly eluded.
It cannot be denied, that the want of itrict dif-
cipline in the univerſities, hath been of pernicious
conſequence to the youth of this nation, who are
there almoſt left entirely to their own management,
eſpecially thoſe among them of better quality and
fortune ; who, becauſe they are not under a ne-
ceflity
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION.
253
ceffity of inaking learning their maintenance, are
eaſily allowed to paſs their time, and take their de-
grees with little or no improvement. Than which
there cannot well be a greater abſurdity. For if no
advancement of knowlege can be had from thoſe
places, the time there ſpent is at beſt utterly loſt,
becauſe every ornamental part of education is bet. .
ter taught elſewhere. And, as for keeping youths
out of harm's way, I doubt, where ſo many of
them are got together, at full liberty of doing
what they pleaſe, it will not anſwer the end. But
whatever abufes, corruptions, or deviations from
ſtatutes, have crept into the univerſities through
neglect, or length of time, they might in a great
degree be reformed, by ſtrict injunctions from
court (upon each particular) to the viſitors and
heads of houſes; belides, the peculiar authority
the Queen may have in ſeveral colleges, whereof
her predeceffors were the founders. And among o-
ther regulations, it would be very convenient to
prevent the exceſs of drinking, with that fcurvy
cuſtom among the lads, and parent of the former
vice, the taking of tobacco, where it is not abſo-
lutely neceſſary in point of health.
From the univerſities, the young nobility, and
others of great fortunes, are ſent for early up to
town, for fear of contracting any airs of pedantry
by a college-education. Many of the younger gen-
try retire to the inns of court, where they are
wholly left to their own diſcretion. And the con-
ſequence of this remifſnefs in education appears by
obſerving, that nine in ten of thoſe who riſe in the
church or the court, the law or the army, are
younger brothers, or new men, whoſe narrow
fortunes have forced them upon induſtry and ap.
plication.
As for the inns of court, unleſs we ſuppoſe
them to be much degenerated, they muſt needs be
the worſt inſtituted ſeminaries in any Chriſtian
Vol.I.
Y
country;
254 A PROJECT FOR THE
country; but whether they may be corrected with-
out interpoſition of the legiſlature, I have not ſkill
enough to determine. However, it is certain, that
all wiſe nations have agreed in the neceffity of a
ftrict education ; which confifted, among other
things, in the obſervance of moral duties, eſpecially
juſtice, temperance, and chaſtity, as well as the
knowledge of arts, and bodily exercifes. But all
theſe among us are laughed out of doors.
Without the leaſt intention to offend the clergy,
I cannot but think, that, through a miſtaken 10-
tion and practice, they prevent themſelves from do-
ing much ſervice, which otherwiſe might lie in
their power, to religion and virtue : I mean, by
affecting ſo much to converſe with each other,
and caring fo little to mingle with the laity. They
have their particular clubs, and particular coffee-
houſes, where they generally appear in cluſters.
A fingle divine dares hardly thew his perſon among
numbers of fine gentlemen; or, if he happens to
fall into ſuch company, he is filent and fufpicious,
in continual apprehenſion, that fome pert man of
pleaſure ſhould break an unmannerly jeſt, and ren-
der him ridiculous. Now, I take this behaviour
of the clergy to be juſt as reaſonable, as if the play-
ſicians ſhould agree to ſpend their time in viſiting
one another, or their ſeveral apothecaries, and
leave their patients to thift for themſelves. In my
humble opinion, the clergy's buſineſs lies entirely
anong the laity: neither is there perhaps a more
effectual way to forward the ſalvation of mens ſouls,
than for fpiritual perſons to make themſelves as
agreeable as they can in the converſations of the
world; for which a learned education gives them
great advantage, if they would pleaſe to improve
and apply it. It fo happens, that the men of plia-
ſure, who never go to church, nor uſe themſelves
to read books of devotion, form their ideas of the
clergy, from a few poor ſtrollers they often ob-
ferve
KDVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 255
ferve in the freets, or ſneaking out of ſome per-
fon of quality's houfe, where they are hired by
the lady at ten ſhillings a-month : while thoſe of
better figure and parts, do feldom appear to correct
theſe notions. And let ſome reaſoners think what
they, pleaſe, it is certain, that men muſt be brought
to eſteem and love the clergy, before they can be
perſuaded to be in love with religion. No man
values the beſt medecine, if adminiſtered by a phy-
ſician, whoſe perfon he hates or deſpiſes. If the
clergy were as forward to appear in all companies,
as other gentlemen, and would a little ſtudy the
arts of converſation, to make theinſelves agreeable,
they might be welcome to every party, where there
was the leaſt regard for politeneſs or good ſenfe
and conſequently prevent a thouſand vitious or
profane diſcourſes, as well as actions : neither
would men of underſtanding complain, that a cler-
gymen was à conſtraint upon the company, becauſe
they could not fpeak blafphemy or obſcene jeſts be-
fore him. While the people are ſo jealous of the
clergy's ambition, as to abhor all thoughts of the
return of ecclefiaftic diſcipline among them, I do
not ſee any other method left for men of that func-
tion to take, in order to reforin the world, than
by uſing all honeſt arts to make themſelves accep-
table to the laity. This, no doubt, is part of that
wiſdom of the ſerpent, which the author of Chri-
ftianity directs; and is the very method uſed by St,
Paul, who became all things to all men, to the Jews &
Jew, and a Greek to the Greeks.
How to remedy theſe inconveniencies, may be a
matter of ſome difficulty ; ſince the clergy ſeem to
be of an opinion, that this humour of fequeftering
themſelves is a part of their duty; nay, as I re-
member, they have been told ſo by ſome of their
biſhops in their paftoral letters, particularly by one
Suppoſed to be Dr. Burnet, Biſhop of Saliſbury.
Y 2
among
256 A PROJECT FOR THE
among them of great merit and diſtinction; who
yet, in his own practice, hath all his lifetime taken
a courte directly contrary. But I am deceived, if
an aukward ſhame, and fear of ill uſage from the
laity, have not a greater ſhare in this miſtaken con-
duct, than their own inclinations. However, if
the outward profeſſion of religion and virtue were
once in practice and countenance at court, as well
as among all inen in office, or who have any hopes
or dependence for preferment, a good treatment of
the clergy would be the neceſſary confequence of
ſuch a reformation; and they would ſoon be wife
enough to ſee their own duty and intereft, in qua-
lifying themſelves for lay-converſation, when once
they were out of fear of being choked by ribaldry
or profaneneſs.
There is one further circumſtance upon this occa-
fion, which I know not whether it will be very or-
thodox to mention. The clergy are the only ſet of
men ainong us, who conſtantly wear a diſtinct h.2-
bit from others : the conſequence of which (not in
reaſon, but in fact) is this, that as long as any
fcandalous perſons appear in that dreſs, it will con-
tinue, in ſome degree, a general mark of contempt.
Whoever happens to ſee a ſcoundrel in a gown, reel-
ing home at midnight, (a light neither frequent nor
mi: aculous), is apt to entertain an ill idea of the
whole order, and at the ſame time to be extremely
comforted in his own vices. Some remedy might
be put to this, if thoſe ſtraggling gentlemen, who
come up to town to ſeek their fortunes, were fairly
diſiniffed to the Weſt Indies ; where there is work
enough, and where ſome better proviſion ſhould
be made for them, than I doubt there is at pre-
fent. Or, what if no perſon were allowed to wear
the habit, who had not ſome preferment in the
church, or at leaſt ſome temporal fortune fufficient
to keep him out of contempt? though, in my o-
pinion, it were infinitely better, if all the clergy
(except
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 257
are
(except the biſhops) were permitted to appear like
other men of the graver fort, unleſs at thoſe ſea-
fons when they are doing the buſineſs of their
function.
There is one abuſe in this town, which wonder-
fully contributes to the promotion of vice; that
ſuch men are often put into the commiſſion of the
peace, whoſe intereft it is, that virtue ſhould be ut-
terly baniſhed from among us; who maintain, or
at leaſt enrich themſelves by encouraging the groff-
eſt immortalities; to whom all the bawds of the
ward pay contribution for ſhelter and protection
from the laws. Thus theſe worthy magiſtrates,
inſtead of leſſening enormities, are the occaſion of
juſt twice as much debauchery as there would be
without them. For thoſe infamous women
forced upon doubling their work and induſtry, to
anſwer double charges, of paying the juſtice, and
ſupporting themſelves; like thieves who eſcape the
gallows, and are let out to ſteal, in order to diſ-
charge the gaoler's fees.
It is not to be queſtioned, but the Queen and mi-
niſtry might eaſily redreſs this abominable grie-
vance, by enlarging the number of juſtices of the
peace, by endeavouring to chuſe men of virtuous
principles, by admitting none who have not confi-
derable fortunes; perhaps, by receiving into the
number fome of the moſt eminent clergy: then,
by forcing all of them, upon ſevere penalties, to
aćt when there is occaſion, and not permitting any
who are offered, to refuſe the commiffion. But in
theſe two laſt caſes, which are very material, I
doubt there will be need of the legiſlature.
The reformation of the ſtage is entirely in the
power of the Queen; and in the conſequences it
hath upon the minds of younger people, doth very
well deſerve the ſtricteſt care. Beſides the indecent
and profane paffages; beſides the perpetual turning
into ridicule the very function of the prieſthood,
with
Y 3
258
A PROJECT FOR THE
with other irregularities, in moſt modern come-
dies, which have been often objected to them; it
is worth obſerving, the diſtributive juſtice of the
authors, which is conſtantly applied to the punith-
ment of virtue, and the reward of vice; directly
oppoſite to the rules of their beſt critics, as well as
to the practice of dramatic poets, in all other ages
and countries. For example, a country-'ſquire,
who is repreſented with no other vice but that of
being a clown, and having the provincial accent
upon his tongue, which is neither a fault, nor in
his power to remedy, muſt be condemned to marry
a caſt wench, or a cracked chambermaid. On the
other ſide, a rake-hell of the town, whoſe charac.
ter is ſet off with no other accompliſhment but ex-
ceffive prodigality, profaneneſs, intemperance, and
luft, is rewarded with a lady of great fortune, to
repair his own, which his vices had almoft ruined.
And as, in a tragedy, the hero is repreſented to
have obtained many victories, in order to raiſe his
character in the minds of the ſpectators; ſo the le-
ro of a comedy is repreſented to have been victo-
rious in all his intrigues, for the ſame reaſon. I
do not remember, that our Engliſh poets ever ſuf-
fered a criminal amour to ſucceed upon the ſtage,
till the reign of King Charles II. Ever ſince that
time, the alderman is made a cuckold, the deluded
virgin is debauched, and adultery and fornication
are ſuppoſed to be committed behind the ſcenes, as
part of the action. Theſe, and many more cor-
ruptions of the theatre, peculiar to our age and na-
tion, need continue no longer, than while the court
is content to connive at or neglect them. Surely a
penfion would not be ill empicyed on ſome men of
wit, learning, and virtue, who might have power
to ſtrike out every offenſive or unbecoming paſ-
fage, froin plays already written, as well as thoſe
that may be offered to the ſtage for the future. By :
which, and other wiſe regulations, the theatre
might
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 259
might become a very innocent and uſeful diverſion,
inſtead of being a fcandal and reproach to our re-
ligion and country.
The propotals I have hitherto made for the ad.
vancement of religion and morality, are ſuch as
come within reach of the adminiſtration ; ſuch as
a pious active prince, with a ſteady reſolution,
inight foon bring to effect. Neither anı I aware of
any objections to be raiſed againſt what I have ad-
vanced; unleſs it ſhould be thought, that the ma-
king religion a neceffary ftep to intereſt and favour
might increaſe hypocriſy among us: and I readily
believe it would. But if one in twenty ſhould be
brought over to true piety, bythisor the like methods,
and the other nineteen be only hypocrites, the ad-
vantage would ſtill be great. Beſides, hypocrify is
much more eligible than open infidelity and vice :
It wears the livery of religion ; it acknowledges her
authority, and is cautious of giving ſcandal. Nay,
a long continued diſguiſe is too great a conſtraint
upon human nature, eſpecially an Engliſh diſpofi-
tion. Men would leave off their vices out of mere
wearineſs, rather than undergo the toil and hazard,
and perhaps the expence, of practiſing them perpe.
tually in private. And I believe it is often with re-
ligion, as it is with love; which, by much diffem-
bling, at laſt grows real.
All other projects to this great end, have proved
hitherto ineffectual. Laws againſt immortality have
not been executed; and proclamations occaſionally
iſſued out to inforce them, are wholly unregarded,
as things of form. Religious focieties, though be-
gun with excellent intention, and by perſons of
true piety, are ſaid, I know not whether truly or
no, to have dwindled into factious clubs, and
grown a trade to enrich little knaviſh informers of
the meaneſt rank, ſuch as common conftables, and
broken ſhopkeepers.
And that ſome effectual attempt fhould be made
toward
260 A PROJECT FOR THE
toward ſuch a reformation, is perhaps more necef-
ſary than people commonly apprehend ; becauſe
the ruin of a ſtate is generally preceded by an uni-
verſal degeneracy of manners, and contempt of re-
ligion; which is entirely our caſe at preſent.
Diis te minorem, quod geris, imperas. Hor.
Neither is this a matter to be deferred, till a more
convenient time of peace and leiſure. A reforma-
tion in mens faith and morals, is the beſt natural,
as well as religious means, to bring the war to a
good concluſion: becauſe, if men in truſt per-
formed their duty for conſcience fake, affairs would
not ſuffer through fraud, falfhood, and neglect, as
they now perpetually do. And if they believed a
God, and his providence, and acted accordingly,
they might reaſonably hope for His divine afiſtance
in fo juſt a cauſe as ours.
Nor could the majeſty of the Engliſh crown ap-
pear, upon any occaſion, in a greater luftre, either
to foreigners or ſubjects, than by an adminiſtra-
tion, which producing ſuch great effects, would
diſcover ſo much power. And power being the
Datural appetite of princes, a limited monarch can-
not ſo well gratify it in any thing, as a ftrict exe.
cution of the laws.
Begides, all parties would be obliged to cloſe
with ſo good a work as this, for their own reputa-
tion. Neither is any expedient more likely to unite
them. For the moſt violent partymen I have ever
obſerved, are ſuch, as, in the conduct of their
lives, have diſcovered leaſt ſenſe of religion and
morality; and when all ſuch are laid afide, at leaſt
thoſe among them who ſhall be found incorrigible,
it will be a mattter perhaps of no great difficulty,
to reconcile the reſt.
The many corruptions at preſent in every branch
of buſineſs, are almoft inconceivable. I have heard
it
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 261
it computed by tkilful perſons, that of fix millions
raiſed every year for the ſervice of the public, one
third, at leaſt, is funk and intercepted, through
the ſeveral claffes and ſubordinations of artful men
in office, before the remainder is applied to the
proper uſe. This is an accidental ill effect of our
freedom. And while fuch men are in truſt, who
have no check from within, nor any view's but to-
wards their intereſt, there is no other fence againſt
them, but the certainty of being hanged upon
the
firſt diſcovery, by the arbitrary will of an unlimit-
ed monarch, or his vizier. Among us, the only
danger to be apprehended, is the loſs of an em-
ployment; and that danger is to be eluded a thou-
ſand ways. Beſides, when fraud is great, it fur-
niſhes weapons to defend itſelf: and, at worſt, if
the crimes be fo flagrant, that a man is laid afide
out of perfect ſhame, (which rarely happens), he
retires loaded with the ſpoils of the nation; et frui«
tur diis iratis. I could naine a commiſſion, where
ſeveral perfons, out of a ſalary of five hundred
pounds, without other viſible revenves, have al-
ways lived at the rate of two thouſand, and laid out
forty or fifty thouſand upon purchaſes of land or
annuities. An hundred other inſtances of the
ſame kind might eaſily be produced. What reme-
dy therefore can be found against ſuch grievances,
in a conftitution like ours, but to bring religion in-
to countenance, and encourage thofe, who, from
the hope of future reward, and dread of future
puniſhment, will be moved to act with juſtice and
integrity ?
This is not to be accompliſhed any other way,
than by introducing religion as much as poſſible to
be the turn and faſhion of the age ; which only
lies in the power of the adminiſtration, the prince
with utmoſt ſtrictneſs regulating the court, the mi-
niſtry, and other perſons in great employment ;
and
A PROJECT FOR THE
E
and theſe, by their example and authority, reform-
ing all who have dependence on them.
It is certain, that a reformation ſucceſsfully car-
Fięd on in this great town, would, in tjine, ſpread
itſelf over the whole kingdom; ſince moſt of the
conſiderable youth paſs here that ſeaſon of their
lives, wherein the ſtrongeſt impreflions are made,
in order to improve their education, or advance
their fortune; and thoſe among them who return
into their ſeveral countries, are ſure to be follow-
ed and imitated, as the greateſt patterns of wit and
good breeding.
And if things were once in this train; that is, if
virtue and religion were eſtabliſhed as the neceſſary
titles to reputation and preferment; and if vice and
infidelity were not only loaden with infamy, but
made the infallible ruin of all mens pretenſions ;
our duty, by becoming our intereſt, would take
root in our natures, and mix with the very genius
of our people ; fo that it would not be eaſy for
the example of one wicked prince to bring us back
to our former corruptions.
I have confined myſelf (as it is before obſerved)
to thoſe methods for the advancement of piety,
which are in the power of a prince limited like
ours, by a ſtrict execution of the laws already in
force. And this is enough for a project that conies
without
any name or recommendation; I doubt a
great deal more than will be ſuddenly reduced into
practice. Though, if any diſposition ſhould appear
towards ſo good a work, it is certain, that the af-
ſiſtance of the legiſlative power would be neceſſary
to make it more complete. I will inſtance only a
few particulars.
In order to reform the vices of this town, which,
as we have faid, hath ſo inighty an influence on the
whole kingdom, it would be very inftrumental to
have a law made, that all taverns and alehouſes
fhould be obliged to diſmiſs their company by
twelve
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 263
twelve at night, and ſhut up their doors ; and that
no woman fhould be ſuffered to enter any tavern
or alehouſe, upon any pretence whatſoever. It is
eaſy to conceive, what a number of ill conſequen-
ces ſuch a law would prevent; the miſchiefs of
quarrels, and ledwneſs, and thefts, and midnight-
brawls, the diſeaſes of intemperance and venery,
and a thouſand other evils needleſs to mention.
Nor would it be amiſs, if the maſters of thoſe pu-
blic houſes were obliged, upon the fevereft penal-
ties, to give only a proportioned quantity of drink
to every company; and when he found his gueſts
diſordered with exceſs, to refuſe them any more.
I believe there is hardly a nation in Chriſtendom,
where all kind of fraud is practifed in ſo unmeaſu-
rable a degree as with us. The lawyer, the tradef-
man, the mechanic, have found ſo many arts to
deceive in their ſeveral callings, that they far out-
grow the common prudence of mankind, which is
in no fort able to fence againſt them. Neither
could the legiſlature in any thing more conſult the
public good, thian by providing fome effectual re-
medy againſt this evil; which in feveral cafes de
ſerves greater puniſhment, than many crimes that
are capital among us. The vintner, who, by mix-
ing poiſon with his wines, deſtroys more lives than
any malignant diſeaſe; the lawyer, who perſuades
you to a purchaſe, which he knows is mortgaged
for more than the worth, to the ruin of you and
your family; the banker or ſcrivener, who takes
all your fortune to diſpoſe of, when he has before-
hand reſolved to break the following day, do ſurely
deſerve the gallows much better than the wretch
who is carried there for ſtealing a horſe.
It cannot eaſily be anſwered to God or man, why
a law is not made for limiting the preſs; at leaſt To
far as to prevent the publiſhing of ſuch pernicious
books, as, under pretence of free-thinking, endea-
vour to overthrow thoſe tenets in religion, which
have
264 A PROJECT FOR THE
tive power.
have been held inviolable almoft in all ages, by c-
very ſect that pretends to be Chriſtian ; and can-
not therefore, with any colour of reaſon, be called
points in controverſy, or matters of ſpeculation, as
ſome would pretend. The doctrine of the Trinity,
the divinity of Chriſt, the immortality of the foul, and
even the truth of all revelation, are daily exploded
and denied in books openly printed; though it is
to be ſuppoſed, neither party * avow ſuch princi-
ples, or own the ſupporting of them to be any way
neceffary to their ſervice.
It would be endleſs to ſet down every corruption
or defect which requires a remedy from the legiſla-
power. Senates are like to have little regard
for any propoſals that come from without doors;
though, under a due ſenſe of my own inabilities,
I am fully convinced, that the unbiaſſed thoughts of
an honeſt and wiſe men, employed on the good of
his country, may be better digeſted, than the re-
ſults of a multitude, where faction and intereſt too
often prevail; as a ſingle guide may direct the way,
better than five hundred who have contrary views,
or look afguint, or ſbut their eyes.
I ſhall therefore mention but one more particu-
lar, which I think the parliament ought to take un-
der conſideration ; whether it be not a ſhame to our
country, and a fcandal to Chriftianity, that in ma-
ny towns, where there is a prodigious increaſe in
the number of houſes and inhabitants, ſo little care
ſhould be taken for the building of churches, that
five
parts in fix of the people are abſolutely hinder-
ed from hearing divine ſervice ? particularly here
in London *, where a fingle miniſter, with one or
two forry curates, hath the care ſometimes of above
* Neither Whig ner Tory.
* This paragraph is known to have given the firſt hint to certain
Bift:ops, particulaily to Biſhop Atterbury, in the Earl of Oxford's
mi viftry, to procure a fund for bu lding fifty new churches in Lon-
don.
twenty
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 265
twenty thouſand ſouls incumbent on him: A ne-
glect of religion ſo ignominious, in my opinion,
that it can hardly be equalled in any civilized age
or country
But, to leave theſe airy imaginations of intro-
ducing new laws for the amendment of mankind ;
what I principally inſiſt on, is a due execution of
the old, which lies wholly in the crown, and in the
authority derived from thence. I return therefore
to my former aſſertion, That if ſtations of power,
truſt, profit, and honour, were conſtantly made
the rewards of virtue and piety, ſuch an admini-
tration muſt needs have a mighty influence on the
faith and morals of the whole kingdom: and men
of great abilities would then endeavour to excel in
the duties of a religious life, in order to qualify
themſelves for public ſervice. I may poflibly be
wrong in ſome of the means I preſcribe towards
this end : but that is no material objection againſt
the delign itfelf. Let thoſe who are at the helm
contrive it better, which perhaps they may eaſily
do. Every body will agree that the difeafe' is ma-
nifeſt, as well as dangerous ; that fome remedy is
neceſſary, and that none yet applied hath been ef-
fectual, which is a ſufficient excufe for any man
who wishes well to his country, to offer his thoughts
when he can have no other end in view but the
public good. The preſent Queen is a Princeſs of
as '
many and great virtues, as ever filled a throne:
how would it brighten her character, to the pre-
fent and after ages, if ſhe would exert her utmoſt
authority to inſtil ſome ſhare of thoſe virtues into
her people, which they are too degenerate to learn
only from her example ? and, be it ſpoke with all
the veneration poffible for ſo excellent a ſovereign,
her beſt endeavours in this weighty affair, are a
moft iinportant part of her duty, as well as of her
intereſt and her honcur.
Vol.1.
Z
But
266 A PROJECT FOR THE
But it muſt be confeſſed, that, as things are now,
every man thinks he has laid in a ſufficient ſtock of
merit, and may pretend to any employment, pro-
vided he hath been loud and frequent in declaring
himſelf hearty for the government. It is true, he
is a man of pleaſure, and a freethinker; that is, in
other words, he is profligate in his morals, and a
deſpiſer of religion ; but in point of party he is one
to be confided in; he is an aflertor of liberty and
property; he rattles it out againſt Popery and arbi-
trary power, and prieſtcraft and high-church. It is
enough : he is a perfon fully qualified for any em-
ployment in the court or the navy, the law or the
revenue; where he will be ſure to leave no arts un-
tried of bribery, fraud, injuſtice, or oppreſſion,
that he can practiſe with any hope or impunity.
No wonder ſuch men are true to a government,
where liberty runs high, where property, however
attained, is ſo well ſecured, and where the admini-
ſtration is at leaſt ſo gentle: it is impoſſible they
could chufe any other conſtitution, without chang-
ing to their loſs.
Fidelity to a preſent eſtabliſhment, is indeed the
principal means to defend it from a foreign enemy;
but without other qualifications, will not prevent
corruptions from within; and ftates are more often
ruined by theſe than the other.
To conclude: Whether the propoſals I have of-
fered towards a reformation, be ſuch as are moſt
prudent and convenient, may probably be a quef-
tion: but it is none at all, whether ſome reforma-
tion be abfolutely neceſſary; becauſe the nature of
things is ſuch, that if abuſes be not remedied, they
will certainly increaſe, nor ever ſtop, till they end
in a ſubverſion of a commonwealth. As there
muſt always of neceſſity be ſome corruptions, ſo
in a well-inſtituted ſtate, the executive power will
be always contending againſt thein, by reducing
things (as Machiavel (peaks) to their firt principles,
never
ADVANCEMENT OF RELIGION. 267
never letting abuſes grow inveterate, or multiply
to far that will be hard to find remedies, and per-
haps impoffible to apply them, As he that would
keep his hodſe in repair, muſt attend every little
breach or flaw, and fupply it immediately, elſe time
alone will bring, alt to ruin; how much more the
common accidents of Itorms and rain ? He muſt
live in perpetual danger of his Houfe falling about
his ears; and will find it cheaper to throw it quite
down, and build it again from the ground, per-
haps upon a new foundation, or at leaſt in a new
form, whïch may nexther be fo fafe, nor fo conve-
nient as the old
Z 2
The
[268]
3086UXILDLIB.ID
The SENTIMENTS of a CHURCH-of. ENG.
LAND Man, with reſpect to REEIGION
and GOVERNMENT *.
Written in the year 1708,
W
Hoever hath examined the conduct and
proceedings of both parties for ſome
years paſt, whether in or out of power,
cannot well conceive it poſſible to go far towards.
the extremes of either, without offering fome vio-
lence to his integrity or underſtanding. A wiſe
Whig
* This piece is adapted to that particular period in which it was
written. The ſtyle of the whole pamphlet is nervous, aud, except
in ſome few places, impartial. The ttate of Holland is jully, and,
at the ſame time, conciſely delineated. This tract is very well worth
one's reading and attention : and it confirms an obſerva ion which:
will perpetually occur, that Swift excells in whatever ſtyle or manner
he affumes. When he is in earneſt, his frength of reaſon carries
with it conviction; when in jeſt, every competitor in the race of wit
is left behind him, Orrery.
This piece ſeemed to have been one of Swift's projects for uniting
of parties, and written with a deſign to check that rage and violence
which fubfifted in thoſe times between the contending factions of
and Tory; and perhaps to recommend, in the place of that
abominable rancour and malice, which had broken all the laws of
charity and hoſpitality among human kind, hofe candid. faluiary
principles, with reſpect to religion and government, which, if riche-
ly comprcbended and vigorouſly purſued, might certainly preſerve
the whole conftitution, both of church and fase, for ten thouſand
generations, Swift.
This appears to be an apology for the Tories, and a juſtification of
them againſt the miſrepreſentations of the Whigs, who were then in
the miniftry, and uſed every artifice to perpetuate their power.
Mr.
Harley, afterwards Lord Oxford, had, by the influence of the Duke
of Marlborough and Lord Treaſurer Godolphin, been lately removed
from his poft of Principal Secretary of State ; and Mr. St. John,
afterwards Lord Bolingbroke, religned his place of Secretary of War,
and Sir Simoa Marcourt that of Attorney-General.
and
THE SENTIMENTS, &c. 269
and a good man may indeed be fometimes induced
to comply with a number, whoſe opinion he gene-
rally approves, though it be perhaps againſt his
own. But this liberty ſhould be made uſe of upon
very few occaſions, and thoſe of ſmall importance,
and then only with a view of bringing over his own
ſide another time to ſomething of greater and more
public moment. But to ſacritice the innocency of
a friend, the good of our country, or our own
conſcience, to the humour or paſſion, or intereſt
of a party, plainly ſhews, that either our heads or
our hearts are not as they ſhould be. Yet this ve-
ry practice is the very fundamental law of each fac-
tion among us; as may be obvious to any, who
will iinpartially, and without engagement, be at the
pains to examine their actions; which, however, is
not ſo eaſy a talk; for it ſeems a principle in hu-
man nature, to incline one way more than, ano.
ther, even in matters where we are wholly uncon-
cerned. And it is a common obſervation, that in
reading a hiſtory of facts done a thouſand years
ago, or ſtanding by at play among thofe who are
perfect ſtrangers to us, we are apt to find our hopes
and wiſhes engaged on a ſudden in favour of one
fide more than another. No wonder then that we
are all ſo ready to intereſt ourſelves in the courſe
of public affairs, where the moft inconfiderable
have ſome real thare, and, by the wonderful im.
portance wbich every inan is of to himſelf, a very
great imaginary one.
And, indeed, when the two parties that divide
the whole commonwealth, come once to a rupture,
without any hopes left of forming a third with bet-
ter principles, to balance the others, it ſeems every
man's duty to chuſe one of the two ſides, though
he cannot entirely approve of either ; and all pre-
tences to neutrality are juſtly exploded by both,
being too ftale and obvious; only intending the
ſafety and eaſe of a few indiyiduals, while the.pub-
Z 3
lic
270
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
lic is imbroiled. This was the opinion and practice
of the latter Cato, whom I eſteem to have been
the wifeſt and beſt of all the Romans *. But be.
fore things proceed to open violence, the trueſt
ſervice a private man may hope to do his country,
is by unbiaffing his inind as much as poſſible, and
then endeavouring to moderate between the rival
powers; which muſt needs be owned a fair pro-
ceeding with the world ; becauſe it is of all others
the leaſt confiſtent with the common deſign of mak-
ing a fortune by the merit of an opinion.
I have gone as far as I am able in qualifying my-
ſelf to be ſuch a moderator. I believe I am no bi-
got in religion, and I am ſure I am none in govern-
ment. I converſe in full freedom with many con-
fiderable men of both parties; and if not in equal
naiber, it is purely accidental and perſonal, as
happening to be near the court, and to have made
acquaintance there, more under one miniſtry than
another. Then, I am not under the neceffity of
declaring myſelf by the proſpect of an employment,
And, laſtly, if all this be not fufficient, I'induſ-
triouſly conceal my name, which wholly exempts me
from any hopes and fears in delivering my opinion.
In conſequence of this free uſe of my reaſon, I
cannot poffibly think fo well or ſo ill of either par-
ty, as they would endeavour to perſuade the world
of each other, and of themſelves. For inſtance,
do not charge it upon the body of the Whigs or
he Tories, that their feveral principles lead them to
introduce Preſbytery, and the religion of the church
of Rome, or a commonwealth, and arbitrary power.
For why ſhould any party be accuſed of a principle,
which they folemnly diſown and proteſt againſt ?
But to this they have a mutual anfver ready: they
both aſſure us, that their adverfaries are not to be
believed ; that they diſown their principles out of
fear, which are manifeſt enough, when we exa-
• One of the fextumvirate in Gulliver, part 3. chap. 7.
mine
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
271
mine their practices. To prove this, they will pro-
duce inſtances, on one ſide, either of avowed Pref-
byterians, or perſons of libertine and atheiſtical te-
nets; and on the other, of profeffed Papifts, or fuch
as are openly in the intereſt of the abdicated family.
Now, it is very natural for all fubordinate fects and
denominations in a ſtate, to fide with ſome general
party, and to chuſe that which they find to agree with
themſelves in ſome general principle. Thus, at the
reſtoration, the Preſbyterians, Anabaptiſts, Independe
ents, and other fects, did all, with very good reaſon,
unite and folder up their ſeveral ſchemes to join againſt
the church; who, without regard to their diſtinctions,
treated them all as equal adverſaries. Thus our
preſent difſenters do very naturally cloſe in with the
Whigs, who profefs moderation, declare they abhor
all thoughts of perfecution, and think it hard, that
thoſe who differ only in a few ceremonies and ſpecu-
lations, ſhould be denied the privilege and profit of
ſerving their country in the higheſt employments of
ſtate. Thus, the Atheiſts, libertines, deſpilers of
religion and revelation in general; that is to ſay,
all thoſe who uſually paſs under the name of fres-
thinkers, do properly join with the ſame body;
becauſe they likewiſe preach up moderation, and are
not ſo over-nice to diſtinguiſh between an unlimit-
ed liberty of conſcience, and an unlimited freedom
of opinion. Then, on the other ſide, the profeſ-
fed firmneſs of the Tories for Epiſcopacy, as an
apoftolical inſtitution ; their averfion to thofe fects
who lie under the reproach of having once deſtroy-
ed their conftitution, and who, they imagine, by
too indiſcreet a zeal for reformation, have defaced
the primitive model of the church ; next, their ve.
neration for monarchical government in the com-
mon courſe of fucceffion, and their hatred to re-
publican ſchemes : theſe, I ſay, are principles
which not only the nonjuring zealots profeſs, but
even Papiſts themſelves fall readily in with. And
every
272
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
every extreme here mentioned, flings a general ſcan-
dal upon the whole body it pretends to adhere to.
- But furely no man whatſoever ought, in juſtice
or good manners, to be charged with principles he
actually diſowns, unleſs his practices do openly,
and without the leaſt room for doubt, contradict
his profeffion; not upon ſmall ſurmiſes, or becauſe
he has the misfortune to have ill men fometimes a.
gree with him in a few general ſentiments. How.
ever, though the extremes of Whig and Tory feem,
with little juſtice, to have drawn religion into their
controverſies, wherein they have ſmall concern;
yet they both have borrowed one leading principle
from the abuſe of it; which is, to have built their
feveral fyftems of political faith, not upon inqui-
ries after truth, but upon oppoſition to each other;
upon injurious appellations, charging their adver-
faries with horrid opinions, and then reproaching
them for the want of charity ; et neuter falſo.
In order to reinove theſe prejudices, I have
thought nothing could be inore effectual, than to
defcribe the ſentiments of a Church-of-England man
with reſpect to religion and government, This I
ſhall endeavour to do in ſuch a manner, as may
not be liable to the leaſt objection from either par-
ty, and which I am confident would be aſſented to
by great numbers in both, if they were not miſled
to thoſe mutual miſrepreſentations, by fuch ino-
tives as they would be alhamed to own.
I ſhall begin with religion,
And here, though it makes an odd found, yet
it is neceſſary to ſay, that whoever profeffeth him-
ſelf a member of the church of England, ought
to believe a God, and his providence, together with
revealed religion, and the divinity of Chriſt. For
beſides thofe many thouſands, who (to ſpeak in the
phraſe of divines) do practically deny all this by the
immorality of their lives, there is no ſmall number,
who, in their converſation and writings, directly,
or
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
273
or by conſequence, endeavour to overthrow it; yet
all theſe place themſelves in the liſt of the national
church, though at the fame time (as it is highly
reaſonable) they are great ſticklers for liberty of
conſcience
To enter upon particulars : A. church-of-Bngland
man has a true veneration for the ſcheme eſtabliſh-
ed among us of ecclefiaftical government; and
though he will not determine whether Epiſcopacy.
be of divine right, he is fure it is moft agreeable to
primitive inftitution ; fitteſt of all others for pre-
ferving order and purity, and, under its preſent
regulations, beſt calculated for our civil" ſtate
he ſhould therefore think the aboliſhment of that
order among us, would prove a mighty ſcandal and
corruption to our faith, and manifeſtly dangerous
to our monarchy; nay, he would defend it by
arms againft all the powers on earth, except our
own legiſlature ; in which cafe he would ſubmit as
to a general calamity, a dearth, or a peſtilence.
As to rites and ceremonies, and forms of prayer,
he allows there might be ſome uſeful alterations
and more, which in the proſpect of uniting Chri-
ftians might be very ſupportable, as things declared
in their own nature indifferent; to which he there-
fore would readily comply, if the clergy, or (tho
this be not fo fair a method) if the legiſlature ſhould
direct; yet at the fame time he cannot altogether
blame the former for their unwillingneſs to conſent
to any alteration; which beſide the trouble, and
perhaps diſgrace, would certainly never produce
the good effects intended by it. The only condition
that would make it prudent and juſt for the clergy
to comply in altering the ceremonial, or any other
indifferent part, would be a firm reſolution in the
legiſlature to interpoſe, by ſome ſtrict and effectual
laws, to prevent the riſing and ſpreading of new
fects, how plauſible foever, for the future; elſe
there muſt never be an end; and it would be to act
like
174
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
kike a man, who should pall down and change the
ornaments of his houſe, in compliance to every one
who was difpofèd: to find fault as he paffed by ;
which, beſides the perpetuał trouble and expenſe,
would very much damage, and perhaps in time de-
#roy the building. Sects in a ſtate feem only tole-
rated wih any reaſon, becauſe they are already
fpread; and becauſe it would not be agreeable with
fo mild a government, or fo pure a religion as ours,
to ufe violent methods againſt great mambers of
miſtaken people, while they do not manifeſtly en-
danger the conſtitution of either. But the greateſt
advocates for general liberty of conſcience will al-
low, that they ought to be checked in their begin-
nings, if they will allow them to be an evil at all,
or, which is the ſame thing, if they will only grant,
it were better for the peace of the ſtate, that there
fhould be none. But while the clergy conſider the
natural temper of mankind in general, or of our
own country in particular, what affurances can they
hæve," that any compliances they ſhall make, will
remove the evil of diffenfion, while the liberty ftill
continues of profeffing whatever new opinions
we pleafe? Or how can it be imagined, that the
body of diffenting teachers, who muſt be all undone
Boy ſuch a revolution, will caſt about for ſome new
objections to with-hold their flocks, and draw in
freſh profelyces by ſome further innovations or re-
Kinements ?
6. Upon theſe reaſons he is for tolerating ſuch dif-
ferent forms in religious worſhip as are already
admitted ; but by no means for leaving it in the
power of thoſe who are tolerated, to advance their
own models upon the ruin of what is already e-
ftabliſhed ; which it is natural for all ſects to de-
fire, and which they cannot be juſtified by any con-
fiftent principles, if they do not endeavour; and
and yet which they cannot fucced in, without the
utmoſt danger to the public peace.
TO
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
275
To prevent theſe inconveniencies, he thinks it
highly juſt, that all rewards of truſt, profit or dig-
nity, which the ſtate leaves in the diſpoſal of the
adminiſtration, ſhould be given only to thoſe whoſe
principles direct them to preſerve the conſtitution
in all its parts. In the late affair of occaſional con-
formity, the general argument of thoſe who were
againſt it, was not, to deny it an evil in itſelf, but
that the remedy propoſed was violent, untimely,
and improper ; which is the Biſhop of Saliſbury's
opinion, in the ſpeech he made and publiſhed a-
gainſt the bill. But bowever juſt their fears or
complaints might have been upon that ſcore, he
thinks it a little too groſs and precipitate, to employ
their writers already in arguments for repealing the
ſacramental teſt, upon no wiſer a maxim, than that
no man fhould, on the account of conſcience,
be deprived the liberty of ſerving his country;
a topic which may be equally applied to adinit
Papiſts, Atheiſts, Mahometans, Heathens, and Jews.
If the church wants members of its own to employ
in the ſervice of the public, or be fo unhappily
contrived, as to exclude from its communion ſuch
perſons who are likelieſt to have great abilities, it is
time it ſhould be altered, and reduced into ſome
more perfect, or at leaſt more popular form ; but in
the mean while it is not altogether improbable, that
when thofe who diflike the conſtitution, are fo very
zealous in their offers for the ſervice of their coun-
try, they are not wholly unmindful of their party
or of themſelves.
The Dutch, whoſe practice is ſo often quoted to
prove and celebrate the great advantages of a ge-
neral liberty of conſcience, have yet a national re-
ligion profeſſed by all who bear office among thein.
But why ſhould they be a precedent for us, either
in religion or government ? Our country differs
* Di. Burne.
front
276
. THE SENTIMENTS OF A
from theirs, as well in ſituation, foil, and produc-
tions of nature, as in the genius and coinplexion of
inhabitants. They are a coinmonwealth founded on
a ſudden, by a deſperate attempt, in a deſperate
condition; not forined or digeited into a regular
fyftem by mature thought and reafon, but huddled
up under the preffure of ſudden exigencies; calcu-
lated for no long duration, and hitherto fubfiſting
by accident in the midſt of contending powers,
who cannot yet agree about ſharing it amongit
them. Theſe difficulties do indeed preſerve them
from any great corruptions, which their crazy con-
ftitution would extremely ſubject them to in a long
peace. That confluence of people in a perfecuting
age to a place of refuge neareſt at hand, put them
upon the neceflity of trade, to which they wiſely
gave all eaſe and encouragement. And if we could
think fit to imitate them in this laſt particular,
there would need no more to invite foreigners a-
mong us; who ſeem to think no farther than how
to ſecure their property and conſcience, without
projecting any ſhare in that government which
gives the protection, or calling it perfecution, if it
be denied them. But I ſpeak it for the honour of
our adininiftration, that although our fects are not
ſo numerous as thoſe in Holland, which I preſume
is not our fault, and I hope is not our misfortune,
we much excel them, and all Chriſtendom beſides, in
our indulgence to tender confciences *. One ſingle
compliance with the national form of receiving the
facrament, is all we require to qualify any fectary
among us for the greateſt employinents in the
ſtate ; after which he is at liberty to rejoin his own
allemblies for the reſt of his life. Beſides, I will
fuppoſe any of the numerous fects in Holland to
have ſo far prevailed, as to have raiſed a civil war,
• When this was writ en, there was no law a aint occaſi,nal
conformity.
deſtroyed
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
277
deſtroyed their government and religion, and put
their adminiſtrators to death; after which I will
fuppoſe the people to have recovered all again, and
to have ſettled on their old foundation. Then I
would put a query, whether that ſect which was
the unhappy inſtrument of all this confuſion, could
reaſonably expect to be intruſted for the future with
the greateſt employments, or indeed to be hardly
tolerated among them?
To go on with the ſentiments of a church-of-
England man: He does not ſee how that mighty
paffion for the church, which fome men pretend,
can well conſiſt with thoſe indignities and that con-
tempt they beſtow on the perſons of the clergy. It
is a ſtrange mark whereby to diſtinguiſh high-
churchmen, that they are ſuch who imagine the
clergy can never be too low. He thinks the maxim
chefe gentlemen are ſo fond of, that they are for
an humble clergy, is a very good one; and ſo is he,
and for an humble laity too ; ſince humility is a
virtue that perhaps equally befits and adorns every
ftation of life.
But then, if the ſcriblers on the other ſide freely
fpeak the ſentiments of their party, a divine of the
church of England cannot look for much better
quarter from thence. You ſhall obſerve nothing
more frequent in their weekly papers, than a way
of affecting to confound the terms of clergy and
high church; of applying both indifferently, and then
loading the latter with all the calumny they can in-
vent. They will tell you, they honour a clergy.
man; but talk at the ſame time, as if there were
not three in the kingdom who could fall in with
their definition. After the 'like manner they in-
ſult the univerſities, as poiſoned fountains, and
corrupters of youth.
Now, it ſeems clear to me, that the Whigs might
eaſily have procured and maintained a majority a-
mong the clergy, and perhaps in the univerſities, if
VOL. I
thay
Аа
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
they had not too much encouraged or connived at
this intemperance of ſpeech, and virulence of pen,
in the worſt and moſt proſtitute of their party ; a-
mong whoin there hath been, for ſome years paſt,
ſuch a perpetual clamour againſt the ambition, the
implacable temper, and the covetouſneſs of the
prieſthood; ſuch a cant of high church, and perſecu-
tion, and being prieſt-ridden; ſo many reproaches
about narrow principles, or terms of communion ;
then (ſuch fcandalous reflections on the univerſities
for infecting the youth of the nation with arbitrary
and Jacobite principles, that it was natural for
thoſe who had the care of religion and education,
to apprehend ſome general deſign of altering the
conftitution of both. And all this was the more
extraordinary, becauſe it could not eaſily be for-
got, that whatever oppoſition was made to the u-
furpations of King James, proceeded altogether
from the church of England, and chiefly from the
clergy, and one of the univerſities. For if it were
of any uſe to recall matters of fact, what is more
notorious than that prince's applying himſelf firſt
to the church of England; and, upon their re-
fuſal to fall in with his meaſurés, making the like
advances to the difſenters of all kinds ? who readily,
and almoſt univerſally complied with him, affect-
ing, in their numerous addreſſes and pamphlets,
the ſtyle of our brethren the Roman Catholics ; whoſe
intereſts they put on the ſame foot with their own:
And ſome of Cromwell's officers took poſts in the
arıny raiſed againſt the Prince of Orange. Theſe
Proceedings of theirs they can only extenuate by
urging the provocations they had met from the
church in King Charles's reign; which, though.
perhaps excufable upon the ſcore of human infir-
mity, are not by any means a plea of merit equal
to the conſtancy and ſufferings of the biſhops and
clergy, or of the head and fellows of Magdalen-
college, that furniſhed the Prince of Orange's dc-
claration
CHURCH OF ENGLAND MAN.
279
claration with fach powerful arguments to juſtify
and promote the revolution.
Therefore a church-of-England man abhors the
humour of the age, in delighting to Aling fcandals
upon the clergy in general; which, beſides the dif-
grace to the reformation, and to religion itſelf, caft
an ignominy upon the kingdom, that it doth not
deſerve. We have no berter materials to com
pound the prieſthood of, than the maſs of man-
kind, which corrupted as it is, thoſe who receive
orders muſt have ſome vices to leave behind thern
when they enter into the church ; and if a few d@
ſtill adhere, it is no wonder, but rather à great
one, that they are no worſe, Therefore he can-
not think ambition or love of power more juftly laid
to their charge, than to other men ; becauſe that
would be to make religion itſelf, or at leaſt the beft
conſtitution of church-government, anſwerable for
the errors and depravity of human nature.
Within theſe laſt two hundred years, all forts of
temporal power bave been wreſted from the clergy,
and much of their ecclefiaftic : the reaſon or juſtice
of which proceeding I ſhall not examine ; but that
the remedies were a little too violent, with reſpect
to their pofleflions, the legiflature hath lately con-
feffed by the remiffion of their firf fruits. Nei-
ther do the common libellers deny this ; who, in
their invectives, only tax the church with an infa-
tiable deſire of power and wealth, (equally com-
mon to all bodies of men, as well as individuals),
but, thank God, that the laws have deprived them
of both. However, it is worth obſerving the juf-
tice of parties. The fects among us are apt to
complain, and think it hard uſage, to be reproach.
ed now, after fifty years, for overturning the state,
for the murder of a king, and the indignity of an
uſurpation; yet theſe very men, and their parti-
ſans, are continually reproaching the clergy, and
laying to their charge the pride, the avarice, the
luxury,
А а 2
280 THE SENTIMENTS OF A
luxury, the ignorance, and fuperftition of Popiſo
times, for a thouſand years paſt.
He thinks it a ſcandal to government, that
ſuch an unlimited liberty ſhould be allowed of
publiſhing books againſt thoſe doctrines in reli-
gion, wherein all Chriſtians have agreed ; much
more to connive at ſuch tracts as reject all revela-
tion, and by their confequences often deny the ve-
ry being of a God. Surely it is not a ſufficient a-
tonement for the writers, that they profefs much
loyalty to the preſent government, and ſprinkle up
and down fome arguments in favour of the diffen-
ters; that they diſpute as ftrenuouſly as they can
for liberty of confcience, and inveigh largely againſt
all ecclefiaftics under the name of high-church; and.
in ſhort, under the ſhelter of ſome popular prin-
ciples in politics and religion, undermine the foun.
dations of all piety and virtue.
As he doth not reckon every ſchiſm of that
damnable nature which ſome would repreſent, ſo
he is very far from clofing with the new opinion
of thoſe who would make it no crime at all ; and
argue at a wild rate, that God almighty is delight,
ed with the variety of faith and worſhip, as he
is with the varieties of nature. To ſuch abſurdi-
ries are men carried by the affectation of free-
thinking, and removing the prejudices of education ;
under which head they have for ſome time begun
to lift morality and religion. It is certain, that be-
fore the rebellion in 1642, though the number
of Puritans (as they were then called) were as
great as it is with us, and though they affected to
follow paftors of that denomination ; yet thoſe paf-
tors had Epiſcopal ordination, poffeffed preferments
in the church, and were ſometimes promoted to
biſhoprics themſelves. But a breach in the general
form of worſhip was, in thoſe days, reckoned fo
dangerous and finful in itſelf, and ſo offenſive to
Roman Catholics at home and abroad, that it was
too
:
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN, 28i
one,
too unpopular to be attempted ; neither, I believe,
was the expedient then found out, of maintaining
ſeparate paſtors out of private purſes.
When x fchifm is once ſpread in a nation, there
grows at length a diſpute, which are the ſchiſma-
tits. Without entering on the arguments uſed by
both ſides among us to fix the guilt on each other,
it is certain, that, in the ſenſe of the law, the
ſchiſm lies on that fide which oppofeth itſelf to the
religion of the ſtate. I leave it among the divines
to dilate upon the danger of ſchiſm as a ſpiritual
evil ; but I would conſider it only as a temporal
And I think it clear, that any great ſepara-
tion from the eſtabliſhed worſhip, though to a new
one that is more pure and perfect, may be an oc- .
cafion of endangering the public peace ; becauſe it
will compoſe a body always in referve, prepared to
follow any diſcontented heads, upon the plauſible
pretexts of advancing true religion, and oppoſing
error, ſuperſtition, or idolatry. For this reaſon
Plato lays it down as a maxim, That "
ought to worſhip the gods according to the law
" of the country ;” and he introduces Socrates,
in his laſt diſcourſe, utterly diſowning the crime
laid to his charge, of teaching new divinities, or
methods of worſhip. Thus the poor Hugenots of
France were engaged in a civil war by the ſpecious
pretences of fome, who, under the guiſe of re-
ligion, ſacrificed ſo many thouſand lives to their
own ambition and revenge. Thus was the whole
body of Puritans in England drawn to be inftru-
ments or abetters of all manner of villany; by the
artifices of a few men, whoſe deſigns from the firſt
were levelled to deſtroy the conſtitution both of
religion and government *; And thus, even in
Holland itſelf, where it is pretended that the va-
riety of ſects live fo amicably together, and in ſuch
mens
Lord Clarendon's hiftory.
Aa 3
perfect
282
THE SENTIMENTS OF A
perfect obedience to the magiſtrate, it is notorious,
how a turbulent party joining with the Arminians,
did, in the memory of our fathers, attempt to de-
ſtroy the liberty of that republic, So that, upon
the whole, where ſects are tolerated in a state, it is
fit they ſhould enjoy a full liberty of conſcience,
and every other privilege of free-born ſubjects, to
which no power is annexed. And to preſerve their
obedience upon all emergencies, a government can-
not give them too much eaſe, nor truſt them with
too little power.
The clergy are uſually charged with a perfecuting
Spirit, which they are ſaid to diſcover by an im-
placable hatred to all diſenters; And this appears
to be more unreaſonable, becauſe they ſuffer leſs in
their intereſts by a toleration, than any of the con-
forming laity; for while the church remains in its
preſent form, no difſenter can poſſibly have any
ihare in its dignities, revenues, or power; whereas,
by once receiving the facrament, he is rendered ca-
pable of the higheſt employments in the ſtate. And
it is very poffible, that a narrow education, toge-
ther with a mixture of human infirmity, may help
to beget among ſome of the clergy in pafeffion ſuch
an averfion and contempt for all innovators, as
phyſicians are apt to have for empirics; or lawyers for
pettifoggers, or merchants for pedlars : but ſince the
number of ſectaries doth not concern the clergy,
either in point of intereſt or confcience, (it being
an evil not in their power to remedy), it is more
fair and reaſonable to ſuppoſe their diſlike pro-
ceeds from the dangers they apprehend to the peace
of the commonwealth, in the ruin whereof they
muft expect to be the firſt and greateſt ſufferers.
To conclude this ſection, it muſt be obſerved,
that there is a very good word, which hath of late
fuffered much by both parties; I mean moderation ;
which the one fide very juſtly diſowns, and the o-
ther as unjuſtly pretends to. Beſide what paſſes
every
...
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
283
every day in converſation, any man who reads the
papers publiſhed by Mr. Leſley, and others of his
ſtamp, muſt needs conclude, that if this author
could make the nation ſee his adverſaries under the
colours he paints them in, we have nothing elſe to
do, but rife as one man, and destroy ſuch wretches
from the face of the earth. On the other ſide,
how ſhall we excuſe the advocates for moderation?
among whom I could appeal to a hundred papers
of univerſal approbation, by the cauſe they
were writ for, which lay ſuch principles to the
whole body of the Tories, as, if they were true,
and believed, our next buſineſs ſhould, in pru-
dence, be, to erect gibbets in every pariſh, and
hang them out of the way. But, I ſuppoſe, it is
preſumed, the common people underſtand raillery,
or at leaſt rhetoric, and will not take hyperboles in
too literal a ſenſe ; which, however, in ſome junc-
tures might prove a deſperate experiment. And
this is moderation, in the modern ſenſe of the word;
to which, ſpeaking impartially, the bigots of both
parties are equally intitled.
e vett
SECT. II.
The ſentiments of a church-of-England man with
reſpect to government:
W
7 E look upon it as a very juſt reproach,
though we cannot agree where to fix it,
that there ſhould be fo much violence and hatred in
religious matters among men who agree in all fun-
damentals, and only differ in ſome ceremonies, or,
at moſt, mere ſpeculative points. Yet is not this
frequently the cafe between contending parties in a
ſtate? For inſtance, do not the generality of
Whigs and Tories among us profeſs to agree in the
fame
284 THE SENTIMENTS OF A
fame fundamentals, their loyalty to the Queen, their
abjuration of the pretender, the ſettlement of the
crown in the Proteſtant line, and a revolution-
principle ? their affection to the church eſtabliſhed,
with toleration of diffenters? Nay, ſome times they
go farther, and paſs over into each other's principles;
the Whigs become great afferters of the prerogative,
and the Tories, of the people's liberty ; theſe cry.
ing down almoſt the whole ſet of biſhops, and thote
defending them : So that the differences fairly ſtat-
ed, would be much of a fort with thoſe in religion
among us; and amount to little more than, who
Should take place, or go in and out firft, or kiſs
the Queen's hand ; and what are theſe but a few
court ceremonies ? or, who bould be in the miniſtry;
and what is that to the body of the nation, but a
inere ſpeculative point ? Yet I think it muſt be allow-
ed, that no religious fects ever carried their mutual
averſions to greater heights than our ſtate-parties
have done, who, the more to inflame their pafſions,
have mixed religious and civil animofities together;
borrowing one of their appellations from the
church, with the addition of high and low, how
little ſoever their diſputes relate to the term, as it
is generally underſtood.
I now proceed to deliver the ſentiments of a
church of England man, with reſpect to govern-
ment.
He doth not think the church of England ſo nar-
rowly calculated, that it cannot fall in with any re-
gular ſpecies of government; nor doth he think
any one regular ſpecies of government more ac-
ceptable to God than another. The three genė.
rally received in the ſchools have, all of them, their
ſeveral perfections, and are ſubject to their ſeveral
depravations. However, few ſtates are ruined by
any defect in their inſtitution, but generally by the
corruption of manners, againſt which the beſt in-
ftitution is no longer a ſecurity, and without which
a
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN. 285
a very ill one may ſubfift and flouriſh ; whereof
there are too pregnant inſtances now in Europe,
The firſt is, the ariſtocracy of Venice; which,
founded upon the wiſeft maxims, and digeſted by a
great length of time, hath in our age admitted ſo
many abuſes, through the degeneracy
of the nobles,
that the period of its duration ſeems to approach.
The other is the united republics of the States.
General where a vein of temperance, induſtry, par-
fimony, and a public ſpirit, running through the
whole body of the people, hath preſerved an infant
commonwealth, of an untimely birth and fickly
conftitution, for above an hundred years, through
ſo many dangers and difficulties, as a much more
healthy one could never have ſtruggled againſt
without thoſe advantages.
Where ſecurity of perſon and property are pre-
ſerved by laws, which none but the while can re-
peal, there the great ends of government are pro-
vided for, whether the adminiſtration be in the
hands of one or of many, Where any one perſon
or body of men, who do not repreſent the whole,
ſeize into their hands the power in the laſt reſort,
there is properly no longer a government, but what
Ariſtotle and his followers call the abuſe or cor.
ruption of one. This diſtinction excludes arbitrary
power, in whatever numbers; which, notwith-
ftanding all that Hobbes, Filmer, and others, have
faid to its advantage, I look upon as a greater evil
than anarchy itſelf; as much as a favage is in a hap.
pier ſtate of life, than a ſlave at the oar.
It is reckoned ill manners, as well as unreaſon-
able, for men to quarrel upon difference in opinion;
becauſe that is uſually ſuppoſed to be a thing which
no man can help in hinſelf. But this I do not
conceive to be an univerſal infallible maxim, except
in thoſe caſes where the queſtion is pretty equally
diſputed among the learned and the wiſe.' Where
it is otherwiſe, a man of tolerable reaſon, ſome
experience,
286 THE SENTIMENTS OF A
experience, and willing to be inſtructed, may ap-
prehend he has got into a wrong opinion, though
the whole courfe of his mind and inclinatico would
perfuade him to believe it true: he may be convin-
ced that he is in an error, though he does not fee
where it lies, by the bad effects of it in the common
conduct of his life, and by obſerving thoſe perſons,
for whoſe wiſdom and goodneſs he hath the great-
eft deference, to be of a contrary fentiment. Accord-
mg to Hobbes's compariſon of reaſoning with caſting
up accounts, whoever finds a iniſtake in the ſum to-
tal, muſt allow himſelf out, though, after repeated
trials, he may not fee in which article he has miſ-
reckoned. I will inſtance in one opinion, which I
look upon every man obliged in conſcience to quit,
or in prudence to conceal; I mean, that whoever
argues in defence of abſolute power in a fingle per-
fon, though he offers the old plauſible plea, that it
is his opinion, which he cannot help, unleſs he be con-
vinced, ought in all free ſtates to be treated as the
common enemy of mankind. Yet this is laid as a
heavy charge upon the clergy of the two reigns be-
fore the revolution, who, under the terms of papo
five obedience and non-reſiſtance, are ſaid to have
preached up the unlimited power of the prince,
becauſe they found it a doctrine that pleaſed the
court, and made way for their preferment. And
And I believe, there may be truth enough in this
accufation to convince us, that human frailty will
too often interpoſe itfelf among perſons of the ho-
lieft function. However, it may be offered in ex-
tufe for the clergy, that in the beft focieties there
are fome ill members, which a corrupted court and
miniſtry will induſtriouſly find out and introduce.
Befides, it is manifeft, that the greater number of
thoſe who held and preached this doctrine, were
miſguided by equivocal terms, and by perfect ig.
norance in the principles of government, which
they had not made any part of their ſtudy. The
queſtion
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN. 287
queſtion originally put, and as I remember to have
heard it difputed in public ſchools, was this, Whe-
ther, under any pretence whatſoever, it may be. lawa
ful to refift the ſupreme magiſtrate ? which was held
in the negative ; and this is certainly the right opi-
nion. But many of the clergy, and other learned
men, deceived by a dubious expreffion, miſtook
the objeet to which pallive obedience was due. By
the ſupreme magiſtrate is properly underſtood the
legiſlative power, which in all governments muſt
be abſolute and unlimited. But the word magi-
Ntrate ſeeming to denote a ſingle perſon, and to ex-
preſs the executive power, it came to paſs, that the
obedience due to the legiſlature was, for want of
knowing or confidering this eaſy diſtinction, miſap-
plied to the adminiſtration. Neither is it any won-
der, that the clergy, or other well-meaning peo-
ple, ſhould fall into this error, which deceived
Hobbes himſelf ſo far, as to be the foundation of
all the political miſtakes in his books; where he
perpetually confounds the executive with the legiſla-
iive power; though all well-inſtituted ſtates have e-
ver placed them in different hands; as may be ob-
vious to thoſe who know any thing of Athens,
Sparta, Thebes, and other republics of Greece, as
well as the greater ones of Carthage and Ronie.
Beſides, it is to be conſidered, that when there
doctrines began to be preached among us, the
kingdom had not quite worn out the memory of
that horrid rebellion, under the conſequences of
which it had groaned almoſt twenty years. And a
weak prince, in conjunction with a ſucceſſion of
moſt proſtitute miniſters, began again to diſpoſe
the people to new attempts, which it was, no doubt,
the clergy's duty to endeavour to prevent ; though
ſome of them, for want of knowledge in temporal
affairs, and others, perhaps, from a worſe princi-
ple, proceeded upon a topic, that, ſtrictly follow-
ed, would inſlave all mankind.
Among
288 THE SENTIMENTS OF A
Among other theological arguments made uſe of
in thoſe times in praife of monarchy, and juſtifica-
tion of abſolute obedience to a prince, there feemed
to be one of a ſingular nature. It was urged,
That heaven was governed by a monarch, who had
none to control his power, but was abſolutely o-
beyed : then it followed, that earthly governments
were the more perfect, the nearer they imitated the
government in heaven, All which I look upon as
the ſtrongeſt argument againſt deſpotic 'power that
ever was offered; ſince no reaſon can poſfibly be
afligned, why it is beſt for the world, that God
Almighty hath ſuch a power, which doth not di-
rectly prove that no mortal man ſhould ever have
the like
But though a church-of England man thinks every
fpecies of government equally lawful, he does not
think them equally expedient ; or for every country
indifferently. There may be ſomething in the cli-
mate, naturally difpofing men towards one fort of
obedience; as it is manifeft all over Afia, where we
never read of any commonwealth, except fome
ſmall ones on the weſtern coaſts eſtabliſhed by the
Greeks. There may be a great deal in the ſitua-
tion of a country, and in the preſent genius of the
people. It hath been obferved, that the temperate
climates uſually run into moderate governments,
and the extremes into deſpotic power. It is a re-
mark of Hobbes, that the youth of England are
corrupted in their principles of government, by
reading the authors of Greece and Rome, who
writ under cominonwealths. But it might have
been more fairly offered for the honour of liberty,
that while the reſt of the known world was over-
run with the arbitrary government of fingle per-
fons, arts and ſciences took their riſe, and flouriſh-
ed, only in thoſe few ſmall territories where the
people were free. And though learning may con-
tinue after liberty is loſt, as it did in Rome, for a
while,
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN. 2819
while, upon the foundations laid under the com-
monwealth, and the particular patronage of fome
emperors, yet it hardly ever began under a tyranny
in any nation : becauſe Navery is, of all things, the
greateſt clog and obſtacle to ſpeculation. And, in
deed, arbitrary power is but the firſt natural ſtop
from unarchy, or the ſavage life; the adjuſting
power and freedom being an effect and confequence
of maturer thinking: and this is no where to
duly regulated as in a limited monarchy; because I
believe it may paſs for a maxim in ſtate, That 12:2
adminiftration cannot be placed in too few hands, nor
the legiſlature in too many. Now, in this ma-
terial point the conſtitution of the Engliſh govern-
ment far exceeds all others at this tiine on the
earth; to which the preſent eſtabliſhment of the
church doth ſo happily agree, that, I think, whoe-
ver is an enemy to either, muſt of neceflity be to
to botb.
He thinks, as our monarchy is conſtituted, an
hereditary right is much to be preferred before cloc-
tion ; becauſe the government here, eſpecially by
ſome late amendments, is fo regularly diſpoſed in
all its parts, that it almoſt executes itſelf: and there-
fore, upon the death of a prince among us, the ad-
miniſtration goes on without any rub or interrup-
tion. For the ſame reaſons, we have leſs to appre-
hend from the weakneſs or fury of our monarchs,
who have ſuch wiſe councils to guide the firſt, and
laws to reſtrain the other. And therefore this he-
reditary right ſhould be kept fo facred, as never to
break the fucceflion, unleſs where the preſerving it
may endanger the conſtitution; which is not from
any intrinſic merit or unalienable right in a particu-
lar family, but to avoid the conſequences that al-
ſually attend the ambition of competitors, to which
elective kingdoms are expoſed; and which is the
only obſtacle to hinder them from arriving at the
greateſt perfection that government can poſibly
VOL.I.
Bb
reacb
290
SENTIMENTS OF A
reach. Hence appears the abſurdity of that dif-
tinction between a king de facto and one de jure,
with reſpect to us. For every limited monarch is a
king de jure.; becauſe he governs by the conſent of
the whole, which is authority fufficient to aboliſh
all precedent right. If a king come in by conqueſt,
he is no longer a limited monarch ; if he afterwards
conſent to limitations, he becomes immediately
king de jure, for the fame reaſon.
The great advocates for fuccefſion, who affirm it
ought not to be violated upon any regard or confi-
deration whatſoever, do infift much upon one ar-
gument, that ſeems to carry little weight. They
would have it, that a crown is a prince's birth-right,
and ought at leaſt to be as well fecured to him and
his poſterity, as the inheritance of any private man;
in ſhort, that he has the ſame title to his kingdom,
which every individual has to his property. Now,
the conſequence of this doctrine muſt be, that as a
man may find ſeveral ways to waſte, mif-fpend, or
abuſe his patrimony, without being anſwerable to
the laws; fo a king may in like manner do what
he will with his own; that is, he may ſquander
and miſapply his revenues, and even alienate the
crown, without being called to an account by his
ſubjects. They allow ſuch a prince to be guilty in-
deed of much folly and wickedneſs; but for theſe
he is anſwerable to God, as every private man muſt
be that is guilty of miſmanagement in his own con-
cerns. Now, the folly of this reaſoning will beſt
appear, by applying it in a parallel caſe. Should
any man argue, that a phyſician is ſuppoſed to un-
derſtand his own art beft; that the law protects and
encourages his profeflion; and therefore, although
he thoukl manifeſtly preſcribe poiſon to all his pa-
tients, whereof they ſhould immediately die, he
cannot be juſtly puriſhed, but is anſwerable only
to God: or ſhould the ſame be offered in behalf
of a divine, who would preach againſt religion and
mora!
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
291
moral duties : In either of theſe two caſes every
body would find out the ſophiſtry, and preſently
anſwer, that although common men are not exact-
ly ſkilled in the compoſition or application of ine-
dicines, or in prefcribing the limits of duty; yet the
difference between poiſons and remedies is eaſily
known by their effects, and common reaſon foon
diſtinguiſhes between virtue and vice: and it inuſt
be neceſſary to forbid both theſe the further prac-
tice of their profeffions, becauſe their crimes are
not purely perſonal to the phyſician or the divine,
but deſtructive to the public. All which is infinite
ly ſtronger in refpect to a prince, in whoſe good
or ill conduct the happineſs or inifery of a whole
nation is included; whereas it is of ſmall confc-
quence to the public, farther than example, how
any private perſon inanageth bis property.
But granting that the right of a lineal fucceffor
to a crown were upon the fame foot with the pro-
perty of a ſubject; ftill it may at the ſame time be
transferred by the legiflative power,' as other pro-
perties frequently are. The fupreme power in a
ſtate can do no wrong ; becauſe whatever that doth,
is the action of all: and when the lauyers apply this
maxim to the king, they muſt underſtand it only in
that ſenſe, as he is the adıniniſtrator of the ſupreme
power; otherwiſe it is not univerſally true, but
may be controlled in ſeveral inſtances, eaſy to pro-
duce..
And theſe are the topics we muſt proceed upon
to juſtify our excluſion of the young pretender in
France; that of his ſuſpected birth being merely
popular, and therefore not made uſe of, as I re-
member, ſince the revolution, in any ſpeech, vote,
or proclamation, where there was occafion to men-
tion him.
As to the abdication of King James, which the
advocates on that fide look upon to have been for-
cible.and unjuſt, and conſequently void in itſelf, I
B b 2
think
292
SENTIMENTS OF A
think a man may obſerve every article of the Eng-
liſh church, without being in much pain about it.
It is not unlikely, that all doors were laid open for
his departure, and perhaps not without the privity
of the Prince of Orange, as reaſonably concluding,
that the kingdom might better be fettled in his ab
fence. But to affirm he had any cauſe to appre-
hend the fame treatment with his father, is an im-
probable fcandal flung upon the nation by a few bi-
gotted French fcribblers, or the invidious affertion
of a ruined party at home in the bitterneſs of their
fouls; not one material circumſtance agreeing with
thoſe in 1648 ; and the greateſt part of the nation
having preſerved the utmoſt horror for that igno,
minious murder. But whether his removal were
cauſed by his own fars; or other mens artifices, it
is manifeſt to me, that, fuppofing the throne to be
vacant, which was the foot the nation went upon,
the body of the people was thereupon left at liberty
to chuſe what forin of goverment they pleaſed, by
themſelves, or their repreſentatives.
The only difficulty of any weight againſt the pro-
ceedings at the revolution, is an obvious objection,
to which the writers upon that ſubject have not yet
given a direct or ſufficient anſwer; as if they were
in pain at ſome confequences, which they appre-
hend thoſe of the contrary opinion inight draw
froin it. I will repeat this objection, as it was of
fered me ſome time ago, with all its advantagęs, by
a very pious, learned, and worthy gentleman of the
nonjuring party *.
The force of his argument turned upon this,
That the laws made by the ſupreme power cannot
otherwiſe than by the ſupreme power be annulled
That
this conſiſting in England of a King, Lords,
and Commons, whereof each have a negative voice,
• Mr. Nefon, au:hes of the feaſts and faits of the church of
England.
no
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
293
2
no two of them an repeal or enact a law without
conſent of the third; much leſs may any one of them
be entirely excluded from its part of the legiſlature
by a vote of the other two: 'That all theſe maxims
were openly violated at the revolution ; where an
aſſembly of the nobles and people, not ſummoned
by the King's writ, (which was an eſſential part of
the conftitution), and confequently no lawful meet-
ing, did, merely upon their own authority, declare
the King to have abdicated, the throne vacant ;
and gave the crown by a vote to a nephew, when
there were three children to inherit; though, by
the fundamental laws of the realın, the next heir
is immediately to fucceed. Neither doth it appear,
how a prince's abdication can make any other fort
of vacancy in the throne, than would be caused by
his death ſince he cannot abdicate for his chile
dren, (who claim their right of fucceffion by act
of parliament), otherwiſe than by his own coniunt,
in form, to a bill from the two houſes.
And this is the difficulty that ſeems chicfly to
ſtick with the moſt reaſonable of thoſe who, from
a mere ſcruple of conſcience, refuſe to join with
us upon the revolution-principle; but for the reſt.
are, I believe, as far from loving arbitrary govern-
ment as any others can be, who are born under a
free conſtitution, and are allowed to have the leaſt
1hare of common good ſenfe.
In this objection there are two queſtions includ.
ed, Firſt, Whether, upon the foot of our conſti-
tution, as it ſtood in the reign of the late King
James, a king of England may be depoſed? The
fecond is, Whether the people of England, coll-
vened by their own authority, after the king had
withdrawn himſelf in the manner he did, had pow.
er to alter the ſucceſſion?
As for the firſt, it is a point I ſhall not preſume
to determine ; and ſhall therefore only fay, that,
to any man who holds the negative, I would dea
mand
въ3
204
SENTIMENTS OF A
mand the liberty of putting the cafe as ſtrongly as
I pleafe. I will ſuppoſe a prince limited by laws
like ours, yet running into a thouſand caprices of
cruelty, like Nero or Caligula ; I will ſuppoſe him
to murder his mother and his wife; to commit in-
ceſt, to raviſh matrons, to blow up the fenate, and
burn his metropolis ; openly to renounce God and
Chriſt, and worſhip the Devil : theſe, and the like
exorbitancies, are in the power of a ſingle perfon
to commit without the advice of a miniſtry, or aſ-
fiſtance of an army. And if ſuch a king as I have
deſcribed, cannot be depoſed but by his own con-
fent in parliament, I do not well ſee how he can be
reſiſted; or what can be meant by a limited monarchy;
or what fignifics the people's confent in making and
repealing laws, if the perſon who adminiſters hath
no tie but conſcience, and is anſwerable to none
but God. I deſire no ſtronger proof that an opi-
nion muſt be falſe, than to find very great abſur-
dities annexed to it; and there cannot be greater
than in the preſent cafe: for it is not a bare fpecu-
lation, that kings may run into fuch enormities as
are above mentioned; the practice may be proved
by examples, not only drawn from the firſt Cæfars,
or later Emperors, but many modern princes of
Europe; ſuch as Peter the cruel, Philip II. of Spain,
John Bafilovits of Muſcovy; and, in our own na-
tion, King John, Richard III. and Henry VIII.
But there cannot be equal abſurdities ſuppoſed in
maintaining the contrary opinion ; becauſe it is
certain, that princes have it in their power to keep
a majority on their ſide by any tolerable adminiftra-
tion, till provoked by continual oppreſſions ; no
man indeed can then anſwer where the madneſs of
the people will ſtop.
As to the ſecond part of the objection, Whether
the people of England, convened by their own au-
thority, upon King James's precipitate departure,
had power to alter the fucceffion?
In
CHURCH-OF-ENGLAND MAN.
295
In anſiver to this, I think it is manifeſt from the
practice of the wifeit nations, and who ſeem to have
had the trueft notions of freedom, that when a
prince was laid aſide for male-adminiſtration, the
nobles and people, if they thought it neceſſary for
the public weal, did reſume the adininiftration of
the fupreme power, (the power itself having been
always in them), and did not only alter the ſucceſ-
fion, but often the very form of government too ;
becauſe they believed there was no natural right in
one man to govern another, but that all was by in,
ftitution, force, or confent. Thus, the cities of
Greece, when they drove out their ty.rrannical kings,
either choſe others from a new family, or aboliſhed
the kingly government, and became free ftates.
Thus the Roinans, upon the expulſion of Tarquin,
found it inconvenient for them to be fubject any
longer to the pride, the luft, the cruelty, and ar-
bitrary will of fingle perſons; and therefore, by
general conſent, entirely altered the whole frame
of their government.
Nor do I find the pro-
ceedings of either, in this point, to have been
condemned by any hiſtorian of the ſucceeding
ages.
But a great deal hath been already ſaid by other
writers upon this invidious and beaten ſubject
therefore I ſhall let it fall; though the point is
commonly miſtaken, eſpecially by the lawyers ;
who, of all others, ſeem least to underſtand the
nature of government in general ; like under-
workmen, who are expert enough at making a
ſingle wheel in a clock, but are utterly ignorant
how to adjuſt the ſeveral parts, or regulate the
movements.
To return, therefore, from this digreſſion: It is
a church-of-England man's opinion, that the freedom
of a nation conſiſts in an abſolute unlimited legiſla-
tive power, wherein the whole body of the people
are fairly repreſented, and in an executive duly li-
mitid;
296
SENTIMENTS OF A
2
:
mited; becauſe on this ſide likewiſe there may be
dangerous degrees, and a very ill extreme. For
when two parties in a ſtate are pretty equal in power,
pretenſions, merit, and virtue, (for theſe two laſt
are, with relation to parties and a court, quite dif-
fereat things), it hath been the opinion of the beſt
writers upon government, that a prince ought not
in any fort to be under the guidance or influence
of either; becauſe he declines, by this means, from
his office of preſiding over the whole, to be the head
of a party; which, beſides the indignity, renders
him anſwerable for all public miſmanagements, and
the confequences of them : and in whatever ſtate
this happens, there muſt either be a weakneſs in
the prince or miniſtry, or elſe the former is too
much reſtrained by the nobles, or thofe who repre-
fent the people.
To conclude: A church-of-England man may, with
prudence and a good conſcience, approve the pro-
feſſed principles of one party more than the other,
according as he thinks they beſt promote the good
of the church and ſtate ; but he will never be ſway-
ed by paſſion or intereſt to advance an opinion,
merely becauſe it is that of the party he moſt ap-
proves; which one ſingle principle he looks upon
as the root of all our civil animofities. To enter
into a party, as into an order of friars, with fo re-
figned an obedience to fuperiors, is very unſuitable
both with the civil and religious liberties we fo
zealouſly affert. Thus the underſtandings of a
whole fenate are often inflaved by three or four
leaders on each ſide; who, inſtead of intending the
public weal, have their hearts wholly ſet upon ways
and means how to get or to keep employments.
But, to ſpeak more at large, how has this ſpirit of
faction mingled itſelf with the maſs of the people,
changed their nature and manners, and the very
genius of the nation? broke all the laws of charity,
neighbourhood, alliance, and hoſpitality, deſtroy.
ed
.
CHURCH OF-ENGLAND MAN.
297
ed all ties of friendſhip, and divided families againſt
themſelves ? And no wonder it ſhould be ſo, when,
in order to find out the character of a perſon, in-
ſtead of inquiring whether he be a man of virtue,
honour, piety, wit, good ſenſe, or learning ; the
modern queſtion is only, Whether he be a Whig or
a Tory ? under whiclı terms all good and ill quali-
ties are included.
Now, becauſe it is a point of difficulty to chuſe
an exact middle between two ill extreines, it may
be worth inquiring, in the preſent caſe, which of
theſe a wife and good man would rather ſeem to a-
void. Taking therefore iheir own good and ill cha-
racters, with due abatements and allowances for
partiality and paflion, I ſhould think, that, in or-
der to preſerve the conſtitution entire in church
and ſtate, whoever hath a true value for both,
would be ſure to avoid the extremes of Whig for
the fake of the former, and the extremes of Tory
on account of the latter.
I have now ſaid all that I could think convenient
upon ſo nice a ſubject, and find I have the ambition
common with other reaſoners, to wiſh at leaſt that
both parties may think me in the right; which
would be of ſome uſe to thoſe who have any virtue
left, but are blindly drawn into the extravagancies
of either, upon falſe repreſentations, to ferve the
ambition or malice of deſigning men, without any
proſpect of their own. But if that is not to be
hoped for, my next wiſh ſhould be, that both
might think me in the wrong; which I would un-
derſtand as an ample juſtification of myſelf, and a
fure ground to believe, that I have proceeded at
leaſt with impartiality, and perhaps with truth.
END of VOL. I.
OURRIS PENINSULAMAM
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
OF THE
U
ARTES
SCIENTIA
LIBRARY
VERITAS
STILNIUL DUDE
TUEBOR
CIRCUMSPIGE
2
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