never merrier nor better company, and did not part till after eleven. I did not summon lord Lansdown: he and I are fallen out. There was something in an Examiner a fortnight ago, that, he thought reflected on the abuses in his office; (he is secretary at war) and he writ to the secretary, that he heard I had inserted that paragraph. This I resented highly, that he should complain of me, before he spoke to me. I sent him a peppering letter, and would not summon him by a note, as I did the rest; nor ever will have any thing to say to him, till he begs my pardon." Nay even with regard to his dear friend Addison, merely on account of his showing some suspicion of him, in a conversation relative to Steele, his conduct was the same; as may be seen in the following passage of his Journal: "I went to the coffeehouse, where I behaved myself coldly enough to Mr. Addison, and so came home to scribble. We dine together to morrow and next day, by invitation; but I shall not alter my behaviour to him, till he begs my pardon, or else we shall grow bare acquaintance.'

I find an unwillingness to part with Swift at this period of his life, without showing him in all the various lights in which he then appeared. It is from his meridian height that we are to judge of the splendour and powerful influence of the sun; not from his feeble setting ray, obscured by mists, or intercepted by clouds. Yet it is in this last state only, he has hitherto been represented to the world, in the several memoirs published of him, by those who never saw him but in his decline, and therefore have given a very unfair representation of the man. To judge of his real character, we must have recourse to the testimony of such of his contem-` poraries, as knew him in his most perfect state. From the accounts given by the former, the world in general have been taught to consider him in the light of a severe, morose, intractable man, abound

The poor creature now lies stabbed in his bed, by a desperate French popish villain. Good night, and God preserve you both, and pity me. I want it,"

His behaviour to the duchess of Hamilton, on the unfortunate death of the duke, killed in a duel by lord Mohun, affords a striking instance of a warm feeling heart. He flew to her the instant the news reached him, to administer every assistance and consolation in his power. Of which take the following account in his Journal, Nov. 15, 1712. "They have removed the poor duchess to a lodging in the neighbourhood, where I have been with her two hours, and am just come away. I never saw so meJancholy a scene. She has moved my very soul. 16th. I thought to have finished this yesterday, but was too much disturbed. I sent a letter early this morning to lady Masham, to beg her to write some comforting words to the poor duchess. She has promised me to get the queen to write to the duchess kindly on this occasion and to morrow I will beg lord treasurer to visit and comfort her. I have been with her two hours again, and find her worse. Her violences not so frequent, but her melancholy more formal and settled, Lady Orkney, her sister in law, is come to town on the occasion, and has been to see her, and behaved herself with great humanity. They have been always very ill together; and the poor duchess could not have patience when people told her I went often to lady Orkney's, But I am resolved to make them friends; for the duchess is now no more the object of envy, and must learn humility from the severest master, affliction." Here we see that not content with what friendly offices he could do in his own person, he immediately applies to higher powers, even to Royalty itself, to administer richer cordials to raise her sinking soul, and pour a more sovereign balm on her afflicted spirit. And at the same time forms a plan for her future ease

nad comfort, by endeavouring to make up a family breach.

The accounts he gives of the illness and death of • poor Harrison, for whom he had made so noble a provision *, are manifestly the effusions of a tender heart. Feb. 12, 1712. "I found a letter on my table last night, to tell me that poor little Harrison, the queen's secretary, that came lately from Utrecht with the Barrier treaty, was ill, and desired to see me at night; but it was late, and I could not go till to day. I went in the morning, and found him mighty ill, and got thirty guineas for him from lord Bolingbroke, and an order for one hundred pounds from the treasury to be paid him to morrow; and I have got him removed to Knightsbridge for air.

13th. I sent to see how he did, and he is extremely ill; and I am very much afflicted for him, as he is my own creature in a very honourable post, and very worthy of it. His mother and sister attend hin, and he wants nothing.

66

14th. I took Parnell this morning, and we walked to see poor Harrison. I had the hundred pounds in my pocket. I told Parnell I was afraid to knock at the door; my mind misgave me. I did knock, and his man in tears told me his master was dead an hour before. Think what grief this is to me! I could not dine with lord treasurer, nor any where else, but got a bit of meat toward the evening. No loss ever grieved me so much; poor creature! Pray God Almighty bless you. Adieu. I send this away to night, and I am sorry it must go while I am in so much grief t."

* That of queen's secretary at the Hague, a post which lord Bolingbroke afterward bestowed on his own brother. S.

+ Lord Bolingbroke bears strong testimony to this quality in Swift, in his letter of March 17, 1719: “I have not these seveal years tasted so sensible a pleasure, as your letters of the 16th. of January and 16th of February gave me; and I know enough

Indeed, during that whole period, his breast seems to have contained a perpetual spring of the purest benevolence, always flowing, and always full: and the chief delight of his life arose from doing acts of humanity, charity, generosity, and friendship. Nor content with what he could perform in that way himself, his utmost endeavours were used to diffuse the same spirit of benevolence into all with whom he was connected. He was the life and soul. of that famous society of sixteen, consisting of some of the first men of the age, in point of talents, rank, and virtue. To tie them closer to each other, he made them adopt the endearing name of brothers; and to spread the circle still wider, the ladies of the. several members, called sisters, and even their children were nephews and nieces. Happy were the envied few who stood in this adopted relationship to Swift, and they never failed afterward boastingly to use that title; as may be seen in several of their letters. Great was the canvassing to be admitted into that number; and the duke of Ormond looked upon it as a high honour that he was elected a member without any application on his part. "The end of our club," says Swift, "is to advance conversation and friendship, and to reward deserving persons with our interest and recommendation. We take in none but men of wit, or men of interest; and if we go on as we begin, no other club of the town will be worth talking of." To keep them steady to these points, and to prevent their degenerating into political meetings, Swift early opposed the admission of lord trea

of the tenderness of your heart, to be assured, that the letter I am writing will produce much the same effect on you. I feel my own pleasure, and I feel yours. The truest reflection, and at the same time the bitterest satire, which can be made on the present age, is this, that to think as you think, will make a man pass for romantick. Sincerity, constancy, tenderness, are rarely to be found." S.

surer and lord keeper, who had been proposed, and they were accordingly excluded; but their sons were received in their room. There are several instances mentioned of contributions raised by them to re lieve indigent merit, which were distributed by Swift *.

He had so far endeavoured to diffuse this spirit of benevolence among all his connexions, that lord Peterborow rallies him upon it thus in one of his letters. “You were returning me to ages past for some expressions in my letter. I find matter in yours to send you as far back as the golden age. How came you to frame a system, in the times we live in, to govern the world by love?"

He did not show at that time any of that acrimony, which he contracted afterward from disap pointment, illness, and a thousand vexations multiplying on him, and increasing with his years. On the contrary, he seems by his Journal and letters to have had an uncommon flow of spirits, and a cheerfulness of temper not easily affected. Accordingly his company was eagerly sought after by all who

* Of this, among many others, take the following instances, Journal, Feb. 12, 1712. "I dined to day with our society, the greatest dinner I have ever seen. It was at Jack Hill's, the governor of Dunkirk. I gave an account of sixty guineas I had collected, and am to give them away to two authors to morrow. And lord treasurer has promised me one hundred pounds to reward some others."-13th. "I was to see a poor poet, one Mr. Diaper, in a nasty garret, very sick. I gave him twenty guineas from lord Bolingbroke, and disposed the other sixty to two other authors."—In that of March 30, "I was naming some time ago, to a certain person, another certain person, that was very deserving, and poor, and sickly; and the other, that first certain person, gave me one hundred pounes to give the other. The person who is to have it, never saw the giver, nor expects one farthing, nor has the least knowledge or imagination of it; so I believe it will be a very agreeable surprise; for I think it a handsome present enough. I paid the sool. this evening, and it was a great surprize to the receiver." S.