to contrive silly schemes of ambition, or to vex our own or others' hearts with busy vanities, (such as perhaps at one time of life or other take their tour in every man,) but to divert ourselves, and the world too, if it pleases; or, at worst, to laugh at others as innocently and as unhurtfully as at ourselves. Your Travels* I hear much of; my own, I promise you, shall never more be in a strange land, but a diligent, I hope useful investigation of my own territories.† I mean no more translations, but something domestic, fit for my own country, and for my own time.

If you come to us, I will find you elderly ladies enough that can halloo, and two that can nurse, and they are too old and feeble to make too much noise; as you will guess, when I tell you they are my own mother, and my own nurse. I can also help you to a lady who is as deaf, though not so old as yourself; you will be pleased with one another, I will engage, though you do not hear one another; you will converse like spirits, by intuition. What you will most wonder at is, she is considerable at court, yet no party-woman, and lives in court, yet would be easy, and make you easy.

One of those you mention (and I dare say al

This is the first notice he gives Swift of his great work; and is so obscure a hint, that Swift certainly could not guess at the subject; written 1725.

Warton.

Mrs. Howard.

ways will remember), Dr. Arbuthnot, is at this time ill of a very dangerous distemper, an imposthume in the bowels; which is broke, but the event is very uncertain. Whatever that be (he bids me tell you, and I write this by him) he lives or dies your faithful friend; and one reason he has to desire a little longer life, is the wish to see you once more.

He is gay enough in this circumstance to tell you, he would give you (if he could) such advice as might cure your deafness, but he would not advise you, if you were cured, to quit the pretence of it; because you may by that means hear as much as you will, and answer as little as you please. Believe me Yours, &c.

LETTER XLVII.

DR. SWIFT TO MR. POPE.

September 29, 1725.

I

AM now returning to the noble scene of Dublin, into the grand monde, for fear of burying my parts to signalize myself among curates and vicars, and correct all corruptions crept in relating to the weight of bread and butter, through those dominions where I govern. I have employed my time (besides ditching) in finishing, correcting, amending, and transcribing my Travels,* in four parts com

These Travels and the Tale of a Tub are indisputably the two most capital works of Swift. It is remarkable that he never

plete, newly augmented, and intended for the press when the world shall deserve them, or rather when a printer shall be found brave enough to venture his ears. I like the scheme of our meeting after distresses and dispersions; but the chief end I propose to myself in all my labours, is to vex the world, rather than divert it; and if I could compass that design without hurting my own person or fortune, I would be the most indefatigable writer you have ever seen, without reading. I am exceedingly pleased that you have done with translations; Lord Treasurer Oxford often lamented that a rascally world should lay you under a necessity of misemploying your genius for so long a time. But since you will now be so much better employed, when you think of the world, give it one lash the more at my request. I have ever hated all nations, professions, and communities; and all my love is towards individuals: for inwould own himself to be the author of the latter; nor is the slightest hint of it to be found in any of his writings. I have very lately been authentically informed, that Swift used to be mortified at Sir William Temple's frequent censure and contempt of burlesque writings; and was much hurt at the last paragraph of Sir William's first Essay in his Miscellanea; where he says: "I wish the vein of ridiculing all that is serious and good, all honour and virtue, as well as learning and piety, may have no worse effect on any state; it is the itch of our age and climate, and has overrun both the court and the stage; enters the House of the Lords and Commons, as boldly as a coffee-house; debates of Council as well as private conversation; and I have known in my life, more than one or two ministers of state, that would rather have said a witty thing, than have done a wise one; and made the company laugh rather than the kingdom rejoice." Warton.

stance, I hate the tribe of lawyers, but I love Counsellor Such-a-one, and Judge Such-a-one: it is so with physicians, (I will not speak of my own trade,) soldiers, English, Scotch, French, and the rest. But principally I hate and detest that animal called man,* although I heartily love John, Peter, Thomas, and so forth. This is the system upon which I have governed myself many years, (but do not tell,) and so I shall go on till I have done with them. I have got materials towards a treatise, proving the falsity of that definition animal rationale,† and to shew it should be only rationis capax. Upon this great foundation of misanthropy (though not in Timon's manner) the whole building of my travels is erected; and I never will have peace of mind, till all honest men are of my opinion: by consequence you are to embrace it immediately, and procure that all who deserve my esteem may do so too. The matter is so clear, that it will admit of no dispute; nay, I

* A sentiment that dishonours him, as a man, a Christian, and a philosopher! as indeed did his conduct towards Miss Vanhomrigh, and his cruelty to Mrs. Johnson: which cannot be palliated nor pardoned. Warton. †There is no person so capable of doing the greatest injury to public morals, as a man of great talents, but of mistaken and perverted sensibility.

Bowles.

These and similar passages contain a great deal of wild and violent invective against mankind, which has been perhaps too hastily adopted as expressive of Swift's actual sentiments. It ought, however, to be remembered, that if the dean's principles were misanthropical, his practice was benevolent. Few have written so much with so little view either to fame, or to profit, or to aught but benefit to the public. Sir W. Scott.

will hold a hundred pounds that you and I agree in the point.

I did not know your Odyssey was finished, being yet in the country, which I shall leave in three days. I thank you kindly for the present, but shall like it three-fourths the less for the mixture you mention of other hands; however, I am glad you saved yourself so much drudgery. I have been long told by Mr. Ford of your great achievements in building and planting, and especially of your subterranean passage to your garden, whereby you turned a blunder into a beauty, which is a piece of Ars Poetica.

I have almost done with harridans, and shall soon become old enough to fall in love with girls of fourteen. The lady whom you describe to live at court, to be deaf, and no party-woman, I take to be mythology, but know not how to moralize it. She cannot be Mercy, for Mercy is neither deaf, nor lives at court: Justice is blind, and perhaps deaf, but neither is she a court-lady: Fortune is both blind and deaf, and a court-lady, but then she is a most damnable party-woman, and will never make me easy, as you promise. It must be Riches, which answers all your description: I am glad she visits you, but my voice is so weak, that I doubt she will never hear me.

Mr. Lewis sent me an account of Dr. Arbuthnot's illness, which is a very sensible affliction to me, who by living so long out of the world, have lost that hardness of heart contracted by years and