Part 10

Her majesty, mark it, Appointed this circuit For me and my brother, Before any other; To execute laws, As you may suppose, Upon such as offenders have been. So then, not to scatter More words on the matter, We're beginning just now to begin. But hold--first and foremost, I must enter a clause, As touching and concerning our excellent laws; Which here I aver, Are better by far Than them all put together abroad and beyond sea; For I ne'er read the like, nor e'er shall, I fancy The laws of our land Don't abet, but withstand, Inquisition and thrall, And whatever may gall, And fire withal; And sword that devours Wherever it scowers: They preserve liberty and property, for which men pull and haul so, And they are made for the support of good government also. Her majesty, knowing The best way of going To work for the weal of the nation, Builds on that rock, Which all storms will mock, Since Religion is made the foundation. And, I tell you to boot, she Resolves resolutely, No promotion to give To the best man alive, In church or in state, (I'm an instance of that,) But only to such of a good reputation For temper, morality, and moderation. Fire! fire! a wild-fire, Which greatly disturbs the queen's peace Lies running about; And if you don't put it out, ( That's positive) will increase: And any may spy, With half of an eye, That it comes from our priests and Papistical fry. Ye have one of these fellows, With fiery bellows, Come hither to blow and to puff here; Who having been toss'd From pillar to post, At last vents his rascally stuff here: Which to such as are honest must sound very oddly, When they ought to preach nothing but what's very godly; As here from this place we charge you to do, As ye'll answer to man, besides ye know who. Ye have a Diocesan,--[l] But I don't know the man;-- The man's a good liver, They tell me, however, And fiery never! Now, ye under-pullers, That wear such black colours, How well would it look, If his measures ye took, Thus for head and for rump Together to jump; For there's none deserve places, I speak't to their faces, But men of such graces, And I hope he will never prefer any asses; Especially when I'm so confident on't, For reasons of state, that her majesty won't Know, I myself I Was present and by, At the great trial, where there was a great company, Of a turbulent preacher, who, cursedly hot, Turn'd the fifth of November, even the gun-powder plot, Into impudent railing, and the devil knows what: Exclaiming like fury--it was at Paul's, London-- How church was in danger, and like to be undone, And so gave the lie to gracious Queen Anne; And, which is far worse, to our parliament-men: And then printed a book, Into which men did look: True, he made a good text; But what follow'd next Was nought but a dunghill of sordid abuses, Instead of sound doctrine, with proofs to't, and uses. It was high time of day That such inflammation should be extinguish'd without more delay: But there was no engine could possibly do't, Till the commons play'd theirs, and so quite put it out. So the man was tried for't, Before highest court: Now it's plain to be seen, It's his principles I mean, Where they suffer'd this noisy and his lawyers to bellow: Which over, the blade A poor punishment had For that racket he made. By which ye may know They thought as I do, That he is but at best an inconsiderable fellow. Upon this I find here, And everywhere, That the country rides rusty, and is all out of gear: And for what? May I not In opinion vary, And think the contrary, But it must create Unfriendly debate, And disunion straight; When no reason in nature Can be given of the matter, Any more than for shapes or for different stature? If you love your dear selves, your religion or queen, Ye ought in good manners to be peaceable men: For nothing disgusts her Like making a bluster: And your making this riot, Is what she could cry at, Since all her concern's for our welfare and quiet. I would ask any man Of them all that maintain Their passive obedience With such mighty vehemence, That damn'd doctrine, I trow! What he means by it, ho', To trump it up now? Or to tell me in short, What need there is for't? Ye may say, I am hot; I say I am not; Only warm, as the subject on which I am got. There are those alive yet, If they do not forget, May remember what mischiefs it did church and state: Or at least must have heard The deplorable calamities It drew upon families, About sixty years ago and upward. And now, do ye see, Whoever they be, That make such an oration In our Protestant nation, As though church was all on a fire,-- With whatever cloak They may cover their talk, And wheedle the folk, That the oaths they have took, As our governors strictly require;-- I say they are men--(and I'm a judge, ye all know,) That would our most excellent laws overthrow; For the greater part of them to church never go; Or, what's much the same, it by very great chance is, If e'er they partake of her wise ordinances. Their aim is, no doubt, Were they made to speak out, To pluck down the queen, that they make all this rout; And to set up, moreover, A bastardly brother; Or at least to prevent the House of Hanover. Ye gentlemen of the jury, What means all this fury, Of which I'm inform'd by good hands, I assure ye; This insulting of persons by blows and rude speeches, And breaking of windows, which, you know, maketh breaches? Ye ought to resent it, And in duty present it, For the law is against it; Not only the actors engaged in this job, But those that encourage and set on the mob: The mob,[2] a paw word, and which I ne'er mention, But must in this place, for the sake of distinction. I hear that some bailiffs and some justices Have strove what they could, all this rage to suppress; And I hope many more Will exert the like power, Since none will, depend on't, Get a jot of preferment. But men of this kidney, as I told you before.-- I'll tell you a story: Once upon a time, Some hot-headed fellows must needs take a whim, And so were so weak (Twas a mighty mistake) To pull down and abuse Bawdy-houses and stews; Who, tried by the laws of the realm for high-treason, Were hang'd, drawn, and quarter'd for that very reason. When the time came about For us all to set out, We went to take leave of the queen; Where were great men of worth, Great heads and so forth, The greatest that ever were seen: And she gave us a large And particular charge;-- Good part on't indeed Is quite out of my head;-- But I remember she said, We should recommend peace and good neighbourhood, wheresoever we came; and so I do here; For that every one, not only men and their wives, Should do all that they can to lead peaceable lives; And told us withal, that she fully expected A special account how ye all stood affected; When we've been at St. James's, you'll hear of the matter. Again then I charge ye, Ye men of the clergy, That ye follow the track all Of your own Bishop Blackall, And preach, as ye should, What's savoury and good; And together all cling, As it were, in a string; Not falling out, quarrelling one with another, Now we're treating with Monsieur,--that son of his mother.

Then proceeded on the common matters of the law; and concluded:

Once more, and no more, since few words are best, I charge you all present, by way of request, If ye honour, as I do, Our dear royal widow, Or have any compassion For church or the nation; And would live a long while In continual smile, And eat roast and boil, And not be forgotten, When ye are dead and rotten; That ye would be quiet, and peaceably dwell, And never fall out, but p--s all in a quill.

[Footnote 1: Dr. Offspring Blackall. He was made Bishop of Exeter in 1707, and died in 1716.--_Scott_.]

[Footnote 2: Swift hated the word "mob," and insisted that the proper word to use was "rabble." See "Letters of Swift," edit. Birkbeck Hill, p. 55; and "Prose Works," ix, p. 35, _n.--_W. E. B._]

PARODY ON THE RECORDER'S SPEECH

TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF ORMOND, 4TH JULY, 1711

This city can omit no opportunity of expressing their hearty affection for her majesty's person and government; and their regard for your grace, who has the honour of representing her in this kingdom.

We retain, my lord, a grateful remembrance of the mild and just Administration of the government of this kingdom by your noble ancestors; and, when we consider the share your grace had in the happy Revolution, in 1688, and the many good laws you have procured us since, particularly that for preventing the farther growth of Popery, we are assured that that liberty and property, that happy constitution in church and state, to which we were restored by King William of glorious memory, will be inviolably preserved under your grace's administration. And we are persuaded that we cannot more effectually recommend ourselves to your grace's favour and protection, than by assuring you that we will, to the utmost of our power, contribute to the honour and safety of her majesty's government, the maintenance of the succession in the illustrious house of Hanover, and that we shall at all times oppose the secret and open attempts of the Pretender, and all his abettors.

THE RECORDER'S SPEECH EXPLAINED BY THE TORIES

An ancient metropolis, famous of late For opposing the Church, and for nosing the State, For protecting sedition and rejecting order, Made the following speech by their mouth, the Recorder: First, to tell you the name of this place of renown, Some still call it Dublin, but most Forster's town.

THE SPEECH

May it please your Grace, We cannot omit this occasion to tell, That we love the Queen's person and government well; Then next, to your Grace we this compliment make, That our worships regard you, but 'tis for her sake: Though our mouth be a Whig, and our head a Dissenter, Yet salute you we must, 'cause you represent her: Nor can we forget, sir, that some of your line Did with mildness and peace in this government shine. But of all your exploits, we'll allow but one fact, That your Grace has procured us a Popery Act. By this you may see that the least of your actions Does conduce still the most to our satisfactions. And lastly, because in the year eighty-eight You did early appear in defence of our right, We give no other proof of your zeal to your Prince; So we freely forget all your services since. It's then only we hope, that whilst you rule o'er us, You'll tread in the steps of King William the glorious, Whom we're always adoring, tho' hand over head, For we owe him allegiance, although he be dead; Which shows that good zeal may be founded in spleen, Since a dead Prince we worship, to lessen the Queen. And as for her Majesty, we will defend her Against our hobgoblin, the Popish Pretender. Our valiant militia will stoutly stand by her, Against the sly Jack, and the sturdy High-flier. She is safe when thus guarded, if Providence bless her, And Hanover's sure to be next her successor. Thus ended the speech, but what heart would not pity His Grace, almost choked with the breath of the City!

BALLAD

To the tune of "Commons and Peers."

A WONDERFUL age Is now on the stage: I'll sing you a song, if I can, How modern Whigs, Dance forty-one jigs,[1] But God bless our gracious Queen Anne.

The kirk with applause Is established by laws As the orthodox church of the nation. The bishops do own It's as good as their own. And this, Sir, is call'd moderation.

It's no riddle now To let you see how A church by oppression may speed; Nor is't banter or jest, That the kirk faith is best On the other side of the Tweed.

For no soil can suit With every fruit, Even so, Sir, it is with religion; The best church by far Is what grows where you are, Were it Mahomet's ass or his pigeon.

Another strange story That vexes the Tory, But sure there's no mystery in it, That a pension and place Give communicants grace, Who design to turn tail the next minute.

For if it be not strange, That religion should change, As often as climates and fashions; Then sure there's no harm, That one should conform. To serve their own private occasions.

Another new dance, Which of late they advance, Is to cry up the birth of Pretender, And those that dare own The queen heir to the crown, Are traitors, not fit to defend her.

The subject's most loyal That hates the blood royal, And they for employments have merit, Who swear queen and steeple Were made by the people, And neither have right to inherit.

The monarchy's fixt, By making on't mixt, And by non-resistance o'erthrown; And preaching obedience Destroys our allegiance, And thus the Whigs prop up the throne.

That viceroy [2] is best, That would take off the test, And made a sham speech to attempt it; But being true blue, When he found 'twould not do, Swore, damn him, if ever he meant it.

'Tis no news that Tom Double The nation should bubble, Nor is't any wonder or riddle, That a parliament rump Should play hop, step, and jump, And dance any jig to his fiddle.

But now, sir, they tell, How Sacheverell, By bringing old doctrines in fashion, Hath, like a damn'd rogue, Brought religion in vogue, And so open'd the eyes of the nation.

Then let's pray without spleen, May God bless the queen, And her fellow-monarchs the people; May they prosper and thrive, Whilst I am alive, And so may the church with the steeple.

[Footnote 1: Alluding to the year 1641, when the great rebellion broke out. _Scott_.]

[Footnote 2: Lord Wharton.]

ATLAS; OR, THE MINISTER OF STATE[1]

TO THE LORD TREASURER OXFORD 1710

Atlas, we read in ancient song, Was so exceeding tall and strong, He bore the skies upon his back, Just as the pedler does his pack; But, as the pedler overpress'd Unloads upon a stall to rest, Or, when he can no longer stand Desires a friend to lend a hand; So Atlas, lest the ponderous spheres Should sink, and fall about his ears, Got Hercules to bear the pile, That he might sit and rest awhile. Yet Hercules was not so strong, Nor could have borne it half so long. Great statesmen are in this condition; And Atlas is a politician, A premier minister of state; Alcides one of second rate. Suppose then Atlas ne'er so wise; Yet, when the weight of kingdoms lies Too long upon his single shoulders, Sink down he must, or find upholders.

[Footnote 1: In these free, and yet complimentary verses, Swift cautions Oxford against his greatest political error, that affectation of mystery, and wish of engrossing the whole management of public affairs, which first disgusted, and then alienated, Harcourt and Bolingbroke. On this point our author has spoken very fully in the "Free Thoughts upon. The present State of Affairs."--_Scott_. See "Prose Works," v, 391.--_W. E. B_. ]

LINES WRITTEN EXTEMPORE ON MR. HARLEY'S BEING STABBED, AND ADDRESSED TO HIS PHYSICIAN, 1710-11 [1]

On Britain Europe's safety lies, Britain is lost if Harley dies: Harley depends upon your skill: Think what you save, or what you kill.

[Footnote 1: For details of Guiscard's murderous attack on Harley, see Journal to Stella, March 8, 1710-11, "Prose Works," ii.--_W. E. B._]

AN EXCELLENT NEW SONG

BEING THE INTENDED SPEECH OF A FAMOUS ORATOR AGAINST PEACE. 1711

An orator _dismal_ of _Nottinghamshire,_ Who has forty years let out his conscience to hire, Out of zeal for his country, and want of a place, Is come up, _vi et armis_, to break the queen's peace. He has vamp'd an old speech, and the court, to their sorrow, Shall hear him harangue against Prior to-morrow. When once he begins, he never will flinch, But repeats the same note a whole day like a Finch.[1] I have heard all the speech repeated by Hoppy,' And, "mistakes to prevent, I've obtained a copy."

THE SPEECH

Whereas, notwithstanding I am in great pain, To hear we are making a peace without Spain; But, most noble senators, 'tis a great shame, There should be a peace, while I'm _Not-in-game._ The duke show'd me all his fine house; and the duchess From her closet brought out a full purse in her clutches: I talk'd of a peace, and they both gave a start, His grace swore by G--d, and her grace let a f--t: My long old-fashion'd pocket was presently cramm'd; And sooner than vote for a peace I'll be damn'd. But some will cry turn-coat, and rip up old stories, How I always pretended to be for the Tories: I answer; the Tories were in my good graces, Till all my relations were put into places. But still I'm in principle ever the same, And will quit my best friends, while I'm _Not-in-game._ When I and some others subscribed our names To a plot for expelling my master King James, I withdrew my subscription by help of a blot, And so might discover or gain by the plot: I had my advantage, and stood at defiance, For Daniel[2] was got from the den of the lions: I came in without danger, and was I to blame? For, rather than hang, I would be _Not-in-game._ I swore to the queen, that the Prince of Hanover During her sacred life would never come over: I made use of a trope; that "an heir to invite, Was like keeping her monument always in sight." But, when I thought proper, I alter'd my note; And in her own hearing I boldly did vote, That her Majesty stood in great need of a tutor, And must have an old or a young coadjutor: For why; I would fain have put all in a flame, Because, for some reasons, I was _Not-in-game._ Now my new benefactors have brought me about, And I'll vote against peace, with Spain or without: Though the court gives my nephews, and brothers, and cousins, And all my whole family, places by dozens; Yet, since I know where a full purse may be found, And hardly pay eighteen-pence tax in the pound: Since the Tories have thus disappointed my hopes, And will neither regard my figures nor tropes, I'll speech against peace while _Dismal's_ my name, And be a true Whig, while I'm _Not-in-game._

[Footnote 1: Lord Nottingham's family name.]

[Footnote 2: This was the Earl's Christian name.]

THE WINDSOR PROPHECY[1] "About three months ago, at Windsor, a poor knight's widow was buried in the cloisters. In digging the grave, the sexton struck against a small leaden coffer, about half a foot in length, and four inches wide. The poor man, expecting he had discovered a treasure, opened it with some difficulty; but found only a small parchment, rolled up very fast, put into a leather case; which case was tied at the top, and sealed with St. George, the impression on black wax, very rude and gothic. The parchment was carried to a gentleman of learning, who found in it the following lines, written in a black old English letter, and in the orthography of the age, which seems to be about two hundred years ago. I made a shift to obtain a copy of it; but the transcriber, I find, hath in many parts altered the spelling to the modern way. The original, as I am informed, is now in the hands of the ingenious Dr. Woodward, F. R. S. where, I suppose, the curious will not be refused the satisfaction of seeing it.

"The lines seem to be a sort of prophecy, and written in verse, as old prophecies usually are, but in a very hobbling kind of measure. Their meaning is very dark, if it be any at all; of which the learned reader can judge better than I: however it be, several persons were of opinion that they deserved to be published, both as they discover somewhat of the genius of a former age, and may be an amusement to the present."--_Swift_.

The subject of this virulent satire was Elizabeth, Baroness Percy, daughter and heiress of Josceline, Earl of Northumberland, who died in 1670. She was born in 1666. In 1679 she was married to Henry Cavendish, Earl of Ogle, who died in 1680. In 1681, she married Thomas Thynne, a man of great wealth, a friend of the Duke of Monmouth and the Issachar of Dryden's "Absalom and Achitophel." A few months afterwards, in February 1681-2, Thynne was assassinated in the Haymarket by foreigners, who were devoted friends of Count Konigsmark, and appear to have acted under his direction. The Count had been in London shortly before Lady Ogle's marriage to Thynne, and had then paid his addresses to her. He fled the day after the murder, but was brought back, and was tried with the principals as an accessory, but was acquitted. Four months after the murder of Thynne, his widow was married to Charles Seymour, Duke of Somerset, on 30th May, 1682, and ultimately became the favourite and friend of Queen Anne, and a zealous partisan of the Whig party. Hence Swift's "Prophecy." See "State Trials," vol. ix, and "Notes and Queries," 1st S., v. 269.--_W. E. B._

When a holy black Swede, the son of Bob,[2] With a saint[3] at his chin and a seal at his fob, Shall not see one[4] New-Years-day in that year, Then let old England make good cheer: Windsor[5] and Bristol[5] then shall be Joined together in the Low-countree.[5] Then shall the tall black Daventry Bird[6] Speak against peace right many a word; And some shall admire his coneying wit, For many good groats his tongue shall slit. But spight of the Harpy[7] that crawls on all four, There shall be peace, pardie, and war no more But England must cry alack and well-a-day, If the stick be taken from the dead sea.[8] And, dear Englond, if ought I understond, Beware of Carrots[9] from Northumberlond. Carrots sown Thynne a deep root may get, If so be they are in Somer set: Their Conyngs[10] mark thou; for I have been told, They assassine when younge, and poison when old. Root out these Carrots, O thou,[11] whose name is backwards and forwards always the same; And keep thee close to thee always that name Which backwards and forwards is [12] almost the same. And, England, wouldst thou be happy still, Burn those Carrots under a Hill.[13]

[Footnote 1: Although Swift was advised by Mrs. Masham "not to let the Prophecy be published," and he acted on her advice, many copies were "printed and given about, but not sold." To Stella, Swift writes: "I doubt not but you will have the Prophecy in Ireland although it is not published here, only printed copies given to friends." See Journal to Stella, 26, 27 Dec. 1711, and Jan. 4, 1711-12.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: Dr. John Robinson, Bishop of Bristol, one of the plenipotentiaries at Utrecht.--_Scott_.]

[Footnote 3: He was Dean of Windsor, and lord privy seal.]

[Footnote 4: The New Style, which was not adopted in Great Britain and Ireland till it was brought in by Lord Chesterfield in 1752, was then Observed in most parts of Europe. The bishop set out from England the Latter end of December, O. S.; and on his arrival at Utrecht, by the Variation of the style, he found January somewhat advanced.]

[Footnote 5: Alluding to the deanery and bishopric being possessed by the same person, then at Utrecht.]

[Footnote 6: Earl of Nottingham.]

[Footnote 7: Duke of Marlborough.]

[Footnote 8: The treasurer's wand, taken from Harley, whose second title was Lord _Mortimer_.]

[Footnote 9: The Duchess of Somerset.[1]]

[Footnote 10: Count Konigsmark.[2]]