manner, without being put into continual fears of his life by the force and arms of the said lord Blaney."

But nothing hurt Swift so much, as the many instances of ingratitude he experienced in those who were highly indebted to him, while he was in power. It has been already shown, that he made it a point with the ministry in England, that no man of genius or merit, should be turned out of employment on account of party: the same maxim he extended to Ireland, where he preserved several in their places, who, but for his interposition, would infallibly have lost them. Of this many instances occur in the course of his letters. In one to the archbishop of Dublin, written in 1713, when his influence was at the highest, he says, "I have suffered very much for my tenderness to some persons of that party, which I still preserve; it would be endless to recount to your grace the reproaches that have been made me, on account of your neighbour." And in another, "Neither did I ever fail to interpose in any case of merit or compassion, by which means several persons in England, and some in this kingdom, kept their employments; for I cannot remember my lord Oxford ever refused me a request of that kind." He therefore thought it extremely hard, that after such instances of fayour shown to numbers of that party, he should be particularly marked out as the chief object of their resentment: or, as he himself expresses it in the same letter, "If my friendship and conversation were equally shown among those who liked or disapproved the proceedings then at court, and that I was known to be a common friend of all deserving persons of the latter sort, when they were in distress; I cannot but think it hard, that I am not

suffered to run quietly among the herd of people, whose opinions unfortunately differ from those which lead to favour and preferment." But Swift, by his great abilities exerted in the cause of the late ministry, had rendered himself so obnoxious to the new men in power, that even to be of his acquaintance, would, in those days, have been a sure bar to promotion. Of this, there is a singular instance communicated to me among other anecdotes taken down at that time by a friend of the dean's. Swift, in the height of party ferment, having some occasion to apply to sir Thomas Southwell, who was one of the commissioners of the revenue, and with whom he had lived on the foot ing of the greatest intimacy, was much shocked by an answer he made him : "I'll lay you a groat" (a usual cant expression of sir Thomas's) " Mr. dean, I don't know you." Some years after, when the spirit of party was a good deal abated, sir Thomas, who was then lord Southwell, riding on the strand, and observing the dean on horseback a little before him, lamented to one of his company the ill effects of party; among which he reckoned the loss of that worthy man's acquaintance, meaning the dean but I'll try, said he, to recover it. When he overtook the dean, he asked him how he did. "I'll lay you a groat, my lord," says Swift, "I don't know you."

In such a situation of affairs, Swift chose the most prudent part, that of retiring wholly from the world, and employing himself chiefly in the care of his deanery, in the discharge of his duty as a clergyman, and arranging his domestick affairs, without once casting his eye toward the publick. In a letter to Pope, dated Jan. 10, 1721, he gives this account of himself: "In a few weeks after the loss of that excellent princess, I came to my station here, where I have continued ever since in

the greatest privacy, and utter ignorance of those events which are most commonly talked of in the world. I neither know the names nor number of the family which now reigneth, farther than the prayer book informeth me. I cannot tell who is chancellor, who are secretaries, nor with what nations we are in peace or war. And this manner of life was not taken up out of any sort of affectation, but merely to avoid giving offence, and for fear of provoking party zeal *." But though in

*The following anecdote taken down at the time by the same gentleman who communicated the former to me, will show how cautious Swift was in his behaviour at that juncture, for fear of provoking party zeal, and at the same time afford an instance of his peculiar vein of humour. Among other tyrannical acts of the Whigs, in the first parliament of George I, such members of the house of commons as had voted for an address in favour of sir Constantine Phipps, were ordered to beg pardon of the House. This order was generally complied with. Three who refused were taken into custody of the serjeant at arms: sir Pierce Butler, Mr. Matthew Ford, and Mr. Robert Cope. Swift, visiting Cope one day, found Povey the serjeant at arms, who was a perfect stranger to Swift's person, sitting with him. After some conversation, Swift asked Cope "whether he did not intend to go out that morning, as was a fine day?" Cope said, "he could not stir out; he was confined." Swift asked, "had he taken physick?" Cope said, "No, but that he was confined by the Parliament, and was then in custody of the serjeant at arms." Swift, with an air of perfect ignorance, and simplicity, inquired the meaning of that, as if he had never heard of a serjeant at arms, or of any such power in the Parliament; and soon after took his leave. When he was gone, Povey said, "it would be well for the church and the kingdom, if the clergy minded state affairs as little as that honest gentleman, who he durst say, was a good parish minister, residing at his living, and minding his own affairs, without troubling his head about those of the publick. Pray what is his name?" "Swift." "Is he any relation of the Dean of St. Patrick's " "The very man," says Cope. "The very man!” replied Povey; "damn him, he has bit me!" and, left the room in some confusion. S.

this Swift acted the part of a philosopher, yet no one could feel more for the distresses of his former friends, and the uncomfortableness of his own situation. In a letter to Pope, June 28, 1715, he says, "You know how well I loved both lord Oxford and Bolingbroke, and how dear the duke of Ormond is to me and do you imagine I can be easy while their enemies are endeavouring to take off their heads? I nunc, & versus tecum meditare canoros. Do you imagine I can be easy, when I think on the probable consequences of these proceedings, perhaps upon the very peace of the nation, but certainly of the minds of so many hundred thousand good subjects?" And in one to Mr. Gay, he says, "I was three years reconciling myself to the scene, and the business, to which fortune hath condemned me, and stupidity was that I had recourse to." In another to the same, he gives this account of himself: "I would describe to you my way of living, if any method could be called so in this country. I choose my companions among those of least consequence, and most compliance: I read the most trifling books I can find, and when I write, it is upon the most trifling subjects: but riding, walking, and sleeping, take up eighteen of the twenty-four hours. I procrastinate more than I did twenty years ago, and have several things to finish, which I put off to twenty years hence." In this manner did he pass seven years of his life from his arrival in Ireland, little known there as an author, except on account of his political writings, which, in that change of times rendered him an object of general detestation. There had been then no collection made of his works, and his detractors in England had robbed him of the merit of his principal work, "The Tale of a Tub," by denying him to be the author. Many calumnies were industriously propagated against him, taken from the writings of the hirelings on the whig side, whereof

the number was so great, that Swift in one place says, that there were upward of a thousand papers and pamphlets published against him in the space of a few years. But wrapped in the consciousness of his integrity, he had the fortitude to treat all this with silent contempt. To counterbalance the ill treatment he met with from the publick, he, by degrees, contracted an intimacy with a select few who had taste to relish the author, and virtue to admire the man*. He had also the supreme satisfaction of

* In a passage above quoted from his letter to Gay, where he says, "I choose my companions among those of least conse quence, and most compliance," we are to understand only such humble friends as were always at his devotion, to be let in, or sent away without ceremony, according as he was in the humour. It was probably, this passage, which furnished lord Orrery with an occasion of excercising his usual disposition to depreciate the dean as much as possible, in the following para graphs: After the great names, which I have just Low mentioned, it is matter of astonishment to find the same person, who had enjoyed the highest and the best conversation, equally delighted with the lowest and the worst; and yet it is certain, from Swift's settlement in Dublin as Dean of St. Patrick's, his choice of companions in general, showed him of a very de praved taste.

"From the year 1714, till he appeared in the year 1720, 3 champion for Ireland against Wood's halfpence, his spirit of politicks and of patriotism was kept almost closely confined within his own breast. Idleness and trifles engrossed too many of his hours: fools and sycophants too much of his con versation."

His answerer, Dr. Celany, fired with indignation at this false charge, replies to him in the following manner : 66 My lord, you have been so grossly abused, in the accounts which dictated those two paragraphs to you, that I am almost ashamed to set you right. The meanest man I ever heard of his conversing with during that period, was Mr. Worrall, a clergyman, a master of arts, a reader and vicar of his cathedral, and a master of the song. He was nearly of his own standing in the college; à good walker, a man of sense, and a great deal of humour. Mr. Worrall's situation in the church, naturally engaged his atJendance upon the Dean, 'every time he went thither and their