Sidebilder
PDF
ePub

assembly, good-will and peace to God's creatures, and love and awe of Him who made them, fill his heart pure and shine from his kind face. If Swift's life was the most wretched, I think Addison's was one of the most enviable and beautiful-a calm death-an im-a life prosperous mense fame and affection afterward for his happy and spotless name."

[graphic][merged small]
[graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small]

I HAVE now to tell you of another satirist, one of the wittiest men that ever lived, but who was unhappy all his days, and succeeded in making his best friends miserable, when he did not kill them with outright cruelty-a man so different from the good and gentle Addison, that one cannot turn to him with any pleasure.

JONATHAN SWIFT was born in Dublin, on the 30th of November, 1667. But his parents were English, and he had nothing of the Irish character. His mother, being left a widow in very embarrassed circumstances, her little boy was given to the care of an uncle, with whom he lived

until he was twenty-one. Lack of means, and the want of a home and a father's protection and love, with a galling sense of constant dependence, may have saddened and imbittered his life; but he had the additional misfortune to be born without a heart, or, if he did possess that rather necessary organ, it was so cold, selfish, and unloving, as hardly to deserve the name.

Speaking one day in a contemptuous way of his uncle, to whom he owed so much, a gentleman dared to rebuke him as he deserved.

"Did he not give you an education?" he asked.

"Yes," said Swift, gruffly, "the education of a dog." "Then, sir, you have not the gratitude of a dog!" and, indeed, he had not.

He must have been very lazy at school and academy, for, when he claimed the usual degree of Bachelor of Arts, he was considered too deficient for admission, and only gained it at last by "special favor," which meant special lack of merit. But, this shamed him, and, determined to reform, he resolved to turn over a new leaf, and study eight hours a day. Some one says quaintly that good resolutions are like fainting ladies-they want to be carried out!-and Swift, who had an iron will, did carry out this plan, and worked hard and steadily for several years. He was educated at Trinity College, through the kindness of his relatives. After his Uncle Goodwin's death, he was helped by another uncle, who bestowed his benefactions in a more agreeable way, as Swift really acknowledged his kindness, and called him "the best of his relations."

Scott tells us of a friendly cousin, who remembered him in these days: "Sitting one day in his chamber, absolutely penniless, he saw a seaman in the court below, who seemed inquiring for the apartment of one of the students. It occurred to Swift that this man might bring a message from his Cousin Willoughby, then settled as a

Lisbon merchant, and the thought had scarcely crossed his mind, when the door opened, and the stranger, approaching him, produced a large leathern purse of silver coin, and poured the contents before him as a present from his cousin. Swift, in his ecstasy, offered the bearer a part of his treasure, which the honest sailor generously declined. And from that moment Swift, who had so deeply experienced the miseries of indigence, resolved so to manage his scanty income as never again to be reduced to extremity.'

[ocr errors]

His mother advised him, after leaving college, to seek the patronage of Sir William Temple, a friend of his uncle's, and a distant relative. This gentleman consented to give him a home, and make him his private secretary, but the position was distasteful and humiliating. He was, to be sure, in an elegant house, with books all about him, but he was treated as an upper servant, while always expected to fawn, and cringe, and flatter, or else lose the favor of a man decidedly his inferior. Here he became known to King William, who used sometimes to visit Moor Park, when its owner was laid up with the gout, and his majesty, walking round the fine garden, took considerable notice of the swarthy secretary, teaching him to cut asparagus in the Dutch fashion, and eat it with Dutch economy. The latter lesson Swift remembered and made use of.

There is a funny story about an alderman whom the dean once invited to dinner: "Amongst other vegetables, asparagus formed one of the dishes. The dean helped his guest, who shortly again called upon his host to be. helped a second time, when the dean, pointing to the alderman's plate, said, 'Sir, first finish what you have upon your plate.' 'What, sir, eat my stalks?' 'Ay, sir, King William always ate the stalks!'

666

'And, George,' said one of his friends, after hearing

6

the story, were you blockhead enough to obey him?' 'Yes, doctor, and if you had dined with Dean Swift, têteà-tête-faith, you would have been obliged to eat your stalks, too!" "

The king also offered to make Swift a captain of horse, which, as his own notions were all military, was intended as an honor; but, of course, the great genius inwardly scorned this proposition, while refusing with mock humility, and went on in the life so irksome and galling to his proud nature, "feeling like a caged tiger, submitting to the keeper who brings him food."

In the words of Collier: "Standing midway between the elegantly selfish Sir William, who wrote, and gardened, and quoted the classics, and the liveried sneerers of the servants' hall, poor Swift gnawed at his own heart in disdainful silence, writhing helplessly under the lofty chidings of his honor and the vulgar insolence of his honor's own man."

Once, in a desperate mood, he rebelled, and went away, but, finding a recommendation from his patron was needed to gain him any other position, he asked pardon, and returned, to remain until the death of Sir William, in 1698.

Thackeray says: "I don't know any thing more melancholy than the letter to Temple, in which, after having broke from his bondage, the poor wretch crouches piteously toward his cage again, and deprecates his master's anger. He asks for testimonials for orders:

"The particulars required of me are what relate to morals and learning, and the reasons of quitting your -honor's family-that is, whether the last was occasioned by any ill action. They are left entirely to your honor's mercy, though, in the first, I think I cannot reproach myself for any thing further than for infirmities. This is all I dare at present beg from your honor, under circumstances of life not worth your regard. What is left me to

« ForrigeFortsett »