things, but was striving always after something which, little as it might be, and successful as he was, should always be out of his reach. It had been his misfortune to become a clergyman, because the way to church preferment seemed to be the readiest. He became, as we all know, a dean-but never a bishop, and was therefore wretched.-TROLLOPE, ANTHONY, 1879, Thackeray (English Men of Letters), pp. 155, 156.

However Jonathan Swift's biographers may explain or apologize for him, I have never yet seen a woman who did not feel for his character both contempt and detestation. A man who could deliberately and for years outrage the feelings and lacerate the hearts of two women whose worse weakness was in the fact that they devotedly loved him, can be looked at in no amiable light by any woman with any chivalry for her sex. RICHARDSON, ABBY SAGE, 1882, ed. Old Love Letters, p. 36.

No man had stronger affections than Swift; no man suffered more agony when they were wounded; but in his agony he would commit what to most men would seem the treason of cursing the affections instead of simply lamenting the injury, or holding the affection itself to be its own sufficient reward. The intense personality of the man reveals itself alternately as selfishness and as "altruism." He grappled to his heart those whom he really loved "as with hoops of steel;" so firmly that they became a part of himself; and that he considered himself at liberty to regard his love of friends as he might regard a love of wine, as something to be regretted when it was too strong for his own happiness. The attraction was intense, but implied the absorption of the weaker nature into his own. His friend ships were rather annexations than allian. Swift showed a complete absence of the ordinary touchiness of authors. His indifference to literary fame as to its pecuniary rewards was conspicuous. He was too proud, as he truly said, to be vain. His sense of dignity restrained him from petty sensibility. When a clergyman regretted some emendations which had been hastily suggested by himself and accepted by Swift, Swift replied that it mattered little, and that he would not give grounds, by adhering to his own opinion, for an imputation of vanity. If

ces.

Swift was egotistical, there was nothing petty even in his egotism.-STEPHEN, LESLIE, 1882, Swift (English Men of Letters), pp. 31, 58.

The last indignity was reserved for our own century and for philosophers in the Flying Island of the British Association. In 1835, in making alterations under the aisle of St. Patrick's Cathedral, the coffins of Swift and Stella were found side by side. The British Association was holding its meeting in Dublin, and, as the genius of irony would have it, phrenology was then the fashion. Doubtless with the permission of Swift's successor at that day in the deanery of the Cathedral, two dainty toys were provided for the perambulating professors and their fair entertainers. The skulls of Swift and of Esther Johnson went the rounds of the drawingrooms; they were patted and poised and peeped at; pretty, sentimental speeches and ponderous scientific phrases flew to right and left; here hung "only a woman's hair," and there the condyloid processes projected into the foramen magnum of the occipital bone. The bumps of veneration and amativeness were measured, and it was ascertained that wit was small. Drawings and casts were made. Finally when all the pretty speeches had run dry; and the spectacles were all taken off, and wisdom had departed from the land, the desecrated bones were restored to darkness, to be once more discovered within a few days past, but not again to have their nakedness exposed to the gaping inhabitants of Laputa.-DOWDEN, EDWARD, 1882, Literature, The Academy, vol. 22, p. 233.

Thou sawest from far the curse thou might'st not stay,

Most mighty spirit, strong to love and hate. For what great sin, sinned in some former state,

Was thy soul forced to contemplate that day Which should not at one blow take life away,

But on each vital sense shut gate by gate, Until thy lord's unfathomable hate, Supreme, relentless, and which none gainsay, Left thy great brain confounded in black night,

And wild with pain?

MARSTON, PHILIP BOURKE, 1883, Jonathan Swift, Wind-Voices.

"Cadenus."-"Mr. Dean."-"The English Rabelais."-"This Impious Buffoon.' "Presto."-"The Rabelais of Good

Society."-FREY, ALBERT R., 1888, Sobriquet and Nicknames, p. 469.

If Jonathan Swift had entered the room while the Lecture upon him was going forward, he would have eaten William Makepeace Goliath, white waistcoat and all.— QUILLER-COUCH, A. T., 1891, Adventures in Criticism, p. 95.

No one who is acquainted with the character of Swift, with his character as it appears in his own writings, as it has been illustrated in innumerable anecdotes, and as it has been delineated by those who were familiar with him, can fail to see that he belonged to the kings of humankind. Like Innocent III, and like Chatham, he was one of those men to whom the world pays instinctive homage. Everything about him indicated superiority. His will was a will of adamant; his intellect was an intellect the power and keenness of which impressed or awed every one who approached him. And to that will and to that intellect was joined a temper singularly stern, daunltess, and haughty. Into a particular ac

count of Swift's last years it would be almost agony to enter. Nothing in the recorded history of humanity, nothing that the imagination of man has conceived, can transcend in horror and pathos the accounts which have come down to us of the closing scenes of his life. His memory was gone, his reason was gone; he recognised no friend; he was below his own Struldbrugs. Day after day he paced his chamber, as a wild beast paces its cage, taking his food as he walked, but refusing to touch it as long as any one remained in the room. During the autumn of 1742 his state was horrible and pitiable beyond expression. At last, after suffering unspeakable tortures from one of the most agonising maladies known to surgery, he sank into the torpor of imbecility. By the mercy of Providence it generally happens that man so degraded is unconscious of his degradation. But this mercy was withheld from Swift. On one occasion he was found gazing at his image in a pierglass and muttering piteously over and over again, "Poor old man!" On another he exclaimed, frequenlty repeating it, “I am what I am." "He never talked nonsense," says Deane Swift, "nor said a foolish thing." In this deplorable condition he continued for two years, and then

maintained unbroken silence till death released him from calamity.-COLLINS, JOHN CHURTON, 1893, Jonathan Swift, pp. 70, 235.

It was, no doubt, a case of what you call fatuity, and what doctors call dementia-that is, loss of mental power. There was no delusion, so far as I remember; but there was this peculiarity-the inability to find words for the expression of the poor remains of thought, although phrases did now and then find utterance under unwonted stimulus. It was, in fact,

a case of aphasia with dementia, leading to the expectation that, if one could have seen the brain, a clot, or the effects or remains of a clot, would have been found on or about the third frontal convolution.

. . A. There is sufficient evidence to render a correct diagnosis of Swift's mental disease possible. B. There are records of numerous cases in which the phenomena are parallel. C. It is not physically possible that Swift's fatuity at 75 originated from a surfeit of green fruit when he was 23. D. The sane part of Swift's life was not likely to have been affected by the latent presence of the insanity.-BUCKNILL, DR., 1893, Letter in Collin's Life of Swift, Appendix, p. 270.

A dim light was burning in the back room of a first-floor in Bury Street, St. James's. The apartment it illumined was not a spacious one; and the furniture, adequate rather than luxurious, had that indefinable lack of physiognomy which only. lodging-house furniture seems to acquire. There was no fireplace; but in the adjoining parlour, partly visible through the open door, the last embers were dying in a grate from which the larger pieces of coal had been lifted away, and carefully ranged in order on the hobs. Across the heavy high-backed chairs in the bedroom lay various neatly-folded garments, one of which was the black gown with pudding sleeves usually worn in public by the eighteenth-century clergyman, while at the bottom of the bed hung a clerical-looking periwig In the bed itself, and leaning towards a tall wax candle at his side (which, from a faint smell of burnt woollen still lingering about the chamber, must have recently come into contact with the now tucked-back bed-curtain), was a gentleman of forty or thereabouts, writing in a very small hand upon a very large

He

sheet of paper, folded, for greater convenience, into one long horizontal slip. had dark, fierce-looking eyebrows, a slightly aquiline nose, full-lidded and rather prominent clear eyes, a firmly-cut handsome mouth, and a wide, massive forehead, the extent of which, for the moment, was abnormally exaggerated by the fact that, in the energy of composition, the fur-lined cap he had substituted for his wig had been slightly tilted backwards. As his task proceeded his expression altered from time to time, now growing grave and stern, now inexpressibly soft and tender. Occasionally, the look almost passed into kind of a grimace, resembling nothing so much as the imitative motion of the lips which one makes in speaking to a pet bird. He continued writing until, in the distance, the step of the watch-man, first pausing deliberately, then passing slowly forward for a few paces, was heard in the street below. "Past twelve o'clock!" came a wheezy cry at the window. "Paaaaast twelvvve o'clock" followed the writer, dragging out his letters so as to reproduce the speaker's drawl. The personage thus depicted was Jonathan Swift, Doctor of Divinity, vicar of Laracor by Trim, in the diocese of Meath in the kingdom of Ireland, and Prebendary of Dunlavin in St. Patrick's Cathedral.-DOBSON, AUSTIN, 1893, The Journal to Stella, Longman's Magazine, vol. 22, pp. 30, 31.

Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the subdued light, and right at my feet I saw a large brass plate set in the floor and on it only this:

SWIFT

Died Oct. 19, 1745 Aged 78

On the wall near is a bronze tablet, the inscription of which, in Latin, was dictated by Swift himself: "Here lies the body. of Jonathan Swift, Dean of this Cathedral, where fierce indignation can no longer rend his heart. Go! wayfarer, and imitate, if thou canst, one who, as far as in him lay, was an earnest champion of liberty Above this is a fine bust of the Dean and to the right is another tablet: "Underneath lie interred the mortal remains of Mrs. Hester Johnson, better known in the world as Stella, under which she is celebrated in the writings of Dr. Jonathan Swift, Dean of this Cathedral.

and casts taken of the skulls. The top of Swift's skull had been sawed off at the autopsy, and a bottle in which was a parchment setting forth the facts was inserted in the head that had conceived "Gulliver's Travels." I examined the casts. The woman's head is square and shapely. Swift's head is a refutation of phrenology, being small, sloping, and ordinary. The bones of Swift and Stella were placed in one coffin and now rest under three feet of concrete, beneath the floor of St. Patrick's.-HUBBARD, ELBERT, 1895, Little Journeys, pp. 163, 166.

He was a man, I think, who would have infinitely scorned and revolted at many of the apologies that have been made for him. And in that great Court of Justice-which I am old-fashioned enough to believe will one day be held-where juries will not be packed, and where truth will shine, by its own light, withstanding all perversion and where opportunities and accomplishments will be weighed in even scales against possible hindrances of moral or of physical makeup-there will show, I am inclined to think, in the strange individuality of Swift, a glimmer of some finer and higher traits of character than we are accustomed to assign him.-MITCHELL, DONALD G., 1895, English Lands Letters and Kings; From Elizabeth to Anne, p. 339.

He was a profoundly sensitive man, yet he was also matter-of-fact. His honest recognition of things as they were was mitigated by no intervening haze of romance, and no spiritual revelation of distant hopes. . . . His was not a temperament to manufacture ideals; and the times had no ideals to offer. What wonder if fierce wrath filled his great, sad soul; if the worlds of politics, of society, of the great mass of men, seemed to him equally contemptible and pitiful. The social sarcasm of Swift is unequaled in fervor of ironic power, but is also alone among the chief satires of England in the bitterness of its tone. The terrible epitaph which, by his own command, was

placed over his tomb speaks of the only peace possible to him.-SCUDDER, VIDA D., 1898, Social Ideals in English Letters, p. 97.

Probably no prominent character has been more cruelly misjudged. Popular opinion has been guided by the superficial sketches of Macaulay, Thackeray, and Taine, and has not stopped to consider that a brilliant presentment is not necessarily an historical portrait. One has only to study One has only to study Swift's letters to realize how utterly mistaken is the common view. To estimate him merely by his satires and political writings is to measure a brain and leave out body and soul. In his literary works he is all intellect-cold, even cruel intellect --and the milk of human kindness is turned sour. It is no wonder that the author of "A Tale of a Tub" and "Gulliver's Travels" has acquired the reputation of the bitterest cynic and misanthrope in all literature. It is the merit and virtue of the letters that they reveal the heart of one who in his public writings is mere head.-POOLE, STANLEY LANE -, 1898, Eighteenth Century Letters, ed. Johnson, Introduction, p. ix.

66

The two, like so many others coupled in history, were in truth of opposed temperaments. Prior was vain, Swift proud; Swift uncompromising, Prior accommodating; Prior fanciful, Swift imaginative. Swift was the same electric force whether business or pleasure engaged him. Prior was solemn ("Dutch," De Torcy afterwards termed him) in routine, madcap indeed reckless-over his cups. Outward appearance heightened the contrast. Swift was of middle height, inclined to be stout, darkly sanguine in complexion, with arch eyes of a piercing blue. He walked "like lightning" to be lean. Prior was tall and thin, lantern-jawed and cavernous. His eyes were dreamy, though his expression was alert. His visage seemed carved out of wood, and he coughed much as he went. He walked to be fat. Swift was a stoic aflame; Prior, an epicurean with dashed ambitions. In Swift's heart of hearts hid Stella, and already lurked Vanessa; in Prior's, Mrs. Anne Durham and the marionettes of vulgar intrigue whom he dignified as "Chloes." Pangs tortured the one, while the other sighed sentiment. Both cried "Vive la bagatelle," but Prior's "bagatelle" was a bubble, Swift's

a bullet. In four things, however, the comrades were united-in devotion to the Church interest, in detestation of democratic clamour, in the endowment of a signal style, and in personal admiration for Harley and St. John.-SICHEL, WALTER, 1901, Bolingbroke and His Times, p. 284.

STELLA.

This day, being Sunday, January 28, 1727-8, about eight o'clock at night, a servant brought me a note, with an account of the death of the truest, most virtuous, and valuable friend, that I, or perhaps any other person, was ever blessed with. She expired about six in the evening of this day; and as soon as I am left alone, which is about eleven at night, I resolve, for my own satisfaction, to say something of her life and character.

She

. . She was sickly from her childhood, until about the age of fifteen; but then grew into perfect health, and was looked upon as one of the most beautiful, graceful, and agreeable young women in London, only a little too fat. Her hair was blacker than a raven, and every feature of her face in perfection. . Never was any of her sex born with better gifts of the mind, or who more improved them by reading and conversation. Yet her memory was not of the best, and was impaired in the latter years of her life. But I cannot call to mind that I ever once heard her make a wrong judgment of persons, books, or affairs. Her advice was always the best, and with the greatest freedom, mixed with the greatest decency. had a gracefulness, somewhat more than human, in every motion, word, and action. Never was so happy a conjunction of civility, freedom, easiness, and sincerity. There seemed to be a combination among all that knew her, to treat her with a dignity much beyond her rank; yet people of all sorts were never more easy than in her company. . . All of us who had the happiness of her friendship agree unanimously, that, in an afternoon or evening's conversation, she never failed, before we parted, of delivering the best thing that was said in the company. Some of us have written down several of her sayings, or what the French call bons mots, wherein she excelled beyond belief. She never mistook the understanding of others; nor ever said a severe word, but where a much severer was deserved.-SWIFT,

JONATHAN, 1727-8, The Character of Mrs. Johnson.

Stella was the concealed but undoubted wife of Dr. Swift, and if my informations are right, she was married to him in the year 1716 by Dr. Ash, then Bishop of Clogher. Stella was a most amiable woman both in mind and person: She had an elevated understanding, with all the delicacy, and softness of her own sex. Her voice, however sweet in itself, was still rendered more harmonious by what she said. Her wit was poignant without severity: Her manners were humane, polite, easy and unreserved. Wherever she came, she attracted attention and esteem. As virtue was her guide in morality, sincerity was her guide in religion. She was constant, but not ostentatious in her devotions: She was remarkably prudent in her conversation; She had great skill in music; and was perfectly well versed in all the lesser arts that employ a lady's leisure. Her wit allowed her a fund of perpetual cheerfulness within proper limits. She exactly answered the description of Penelope in Homer.

"A woman, lovliest of the lovely kind,

In body perfect, and compleat in mind." -BOYLE, JOHN (LORD ORRERY), 1751, Remarks on the Life and Writings of Dr. Jonathan Swift.

The general rule, I think, between him. and Mrs. Johnson was this: when the Doctor was absent from home she lived at his house; but when he was at home she lodged either somewhere at Trim, or was resident at the house of Dr. Raymond, the vicar of Trim, a gentleman of great hospitality, a friend of Dr. Swift, a man of learning and fine address, with the advantage of a tall, handsome, and graceful person. SWIFT, DEANE, 1755, An Essay upon the Life, Writings and Character of Dr. Jonathan Swift, p. 90.

I was informed by the relict of Bishop Berkeley that her husband had assured her of the truth of Swift's marriage, as the Bishop of Clogher, who had performed the ceremony, had himself communicated the circumstance to him.-BERKELEY, GEORGE MONCK, 1789, Inquiry into the Life of Dean Swift, Literary Relics.

Immediately subsequent to the ceremony Swift's state of mind appears to have been dreadful. Delany, (as I have learned from a friend of his relict), being pressed

to give his opinion on this strange union, said, that about the time it took place, he observed Swift to be extremely gloomy and agitated; so much so that he went to Archbishop King to mention his apprehensions. On entering the library, Swift rushed out with a countenance of distraction, and passed him without speaking. He found the Archbishop in tears, and upon asking the reason, he said, "You have just met the most unhappy man on earth; but on the subject of his wretchedness you must never ask a question." Swift secluded himself from society for some days. When he reappeared, his intercourse with Stella and Mrs. Dingley was resumed, with the same guarded and cautious attention to prevent the slightest suspicion of a more intimate union with the former; as if such intimacy had not now been legal and virtuous. Stella, therefore, continued the beloved and intimate friend of Swift, the regulator of his household and table on public days, although she only appeared there as an ordinary guest; the companion of his social hours, and his comforter in sickness; but his wife only in name, and even that nominal union a secret from the world. SCOTT, SIR WALTER, 1814, Memoirs of Jonathan Swift.

While

Notwithstanding Dr. Delany's sentiments of Swift's marriage, and notwithstanding all that Lord Orrery and others have said about it, there is no authority for it but a hearsay story, and that very illfounded. It is certain that the Dean told one of his friends, whom he advised to marry, that he himself never wished to marry at the time he ought to have entered into that state; for he counted upon it as the happiest condition, especially towards the decline of life, 'when a faithful, tender friend, is most wanted. he was talking to this effect, his friend expressed his wishes to have seen him married the Dean asked why? "Because," replied the other, "I should have the pleasure of seeing your offspring; all the world would have been pleased to have seen the issue of such a genius. The Dean smiled, and denied his being married, in the same manner as before, and said he never saw the woman he wished to be married to. The same gentleman, who was intimate with Mrs. Dingley for ten years before she died, in 1743, took