Well, honest friend, said I, thou hast a sure comforter, if thou hast brought thyself to be resigned to the will of God; he is dealing with us all in judg-me, and my money would be my crime, as they say

my bosom; but then sleep went from my eyes. Oh, the weight of human care! I, a poor beggar boy, could not sleep, so soon as I had but a little money to keep, who, before that, could have slept upon a heap of brick-bats, stones, or cinders, or anywhere, as sound as a rich man does on his down bed, and sounder too.

most violently; then I began to think I had not so much as a halfpenny of it left for a halfpenny roll, and I was hungry, and then I cried again: then I came away in despair, crying and roaring like a little boy that had been whipped; then I went back again to the tree, and up the tree again, and thus I did several times.

Every now and then dropping asleep, I should dream that my money was lost, and start like one frightened; then, finding it fast in my hand, try to go to sleep again, but could not for a long while; then drop and start again. At last a fancy came into my head, that if I fell asleep, I should dream of the money, and talk of it in my sleep, and tell that I had money; which, if I should do, and one of the rogues should hear me, they would pick it out of my bosom, and of my hand too, without waking me; and after that thought I could not sleep a wink more; so I passed that night over in care and anxiety enough, and this, I may safely say, was the first night's rest that I lost by the cares of this life, and the deceitful-down at once. ness of riches.

As soon as it was day, I got out of the hole we lay in, and rambled abroad in the fields towards Stepney, and there I mused and considered what I should do with this money, and many a time I wished that I had not had it; for, after all my ruminating upon it, and what course I should take with it, or where I should put it, I could not hit upon any one thing, or any possible method to secure it; and it perplexed me so, that at last, as I said just now, I sat down and cried heartily.

When my crying was over, the case was the same; I had the money still, and what to do with it I could not tell at last it came into my head that I should look out for some hole in a tree, and see to hide it there, till I should have occasion for it. Big with this discovery, as I then thought it, I began to look about me for a tree; but there were no trees in the fields about Stepney or Mile-end that looked fit for my purpose; and if there were any, that I began to look narrowly at, the fields were so full of people, that they would see if I went to hide anything there, and I thought the people eyed me, as it were, and that two men in particular followed me to see what I intended to do.

The last time I had gotten up the tree, I happened to come down not on the same side that I went up and came down before, but on the other side of the tree, and on the other side of the bank also; and behold, the tree had a great open place in the side of it close to the ground, as old hollow trees often have; and looking in the open place, to my inexpressible joy there lay my money and my linen rag, all wrapped up just as I had put it into the hole: for the tree being hollow all the way up, there had been some moss or light stuff, which I had not judgment enough to know was not firm, that had given way when it came to drop out of my hand, and so it had slipped quite I was but a child, and I rejoiced like a child, for I hollowed quite out aloud when I saw it; then I ran to it and snatched it up, hugged and kissed the dirty rag a hundred times; then danced and jumped about, ran from one end of the field to the other, and, in short, I knew not what, much less do I know now what I did, though I shall never forget the thing; either what a sinking grief it was to my heart when I thought I had lost it, or what a flood of joy overwhelmed me when I had got it again.

While I was in the first transport of my joy, as I have said, I ran about, and knew not what I did; but when that was over, I sat down, opened the foul clout the money was in, looked at it, told it, found it was all there, and then I fell a-crying as violently as I did before, when I thought I had lost it.

[Advice to a Youth of Rambling Disposition.] [From Robinson Crusoe."]

nay, the commands-of my father, and against all the intreaties and persuasions of my mother and other friends, that there seemed to be something fatal in that propension of nature, tending directly to the life of misery which was to befall me.

Being the third son of the family, and not bred to any trade, my head began to be filled very early with rambling thoughts. My father, who was very ancient, had given me a competent share of learning, as far as house education and a country free school generally This drove me further off, and I crossed the road at go, and designed me for the law: but I would be Mile-end, and in the middle of the town went down satisfied with nothing but going to sea; and my ina lane that goes away to the Blind Beggar's at Beth-clination to this led me so strongly against the willnal Green. When I got a little way in the lane, I found a footpath over the fields, and in those fields several trees for my turn, as I thought; at last, one tree had a little hole in it, pretty high out of my reach, and I climbed up the tree to get it, and when I came there, I put my hand in, and found, as I thought, a place very fit; so I placed my treasure there, and was mighty well satisfied with it; but behold, putting my hand in again, to lay it more commodiously, as I thought, of a sudden it slipped away from me, and I found the tree was hollow, and my little parcel was fallen in out of my reach, and how far it might go in I knew not; so that, in a word, my money was quite gone, irrecoverably lost; there could be no room so much as to hope ever to see it again, for 'twas a vast great tree.

As young as I was, I was now sensible what a fool I was before, that I could not think of ways to keep my money, but I must come thus far to throw it into a hole where I could not reach it: well, I thrust my hand quite up to my elbow, but no bottom was to be found, nor any end of the hole or cavity; I got a stick of the tree, and thrust it in a great way, but all was one; then I cried, nay, roared out, I was in such a passion; then I got down the tree again, then up again, and thrust in my hand again till I scratched my arm and made it bleed, and cried all the while

My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel against what he foresaw was my design. He called me one morning into his chamber, where he was confined by the gout, and expostulated very warmly with me upon this subject. He asked me what reasons, more than a mere wandering inclination, I had for leaving my father's house and my native country, where I might be well introduced, and had a prospect of raising my fortune by application and industry, with a life of ease and pleasure. He told me it was only men of desperate fortunes on one hand, or of aspiring superior fortunes on the other, who went abroad upon adventures, to rise by enterprise, and make themselves famous in undertakings of a nature out of the common road; that these things were all either too far above me, or too far below me; that mine was the middle state, or what might be called the upper station of low life, which he had found, by long experience, was the best state in the world-the most suited to human happiness; not exposed to the miseries and hardships, the labour and sufferings, of the mechanic part of mankind, and

FROM 1689

not embarrassed with the pride, luxury, ambition, and envy, of the upper part of mankind. He told me I might judge of the happiness of this state by this one thing, namely, that this was the state of life which all other people envied; that kings have frequently lamented the miserable consequences of being born to great things, and wished they had been placed in the middle of the two extremes, between the mean and the great; that the wise man gave his testimony to this, as the just standard of true felicity, when he prayed to have neither poverty nor riches.

He bade me observe it, and I should always find that the calamities of life were shared among the upper and lower part of mankind; but that the middle station had the fewest disasters, and was not exposed to so many vicissitudes as the higher or lower part of mankind; nay, they were not subjected to so many distempers and uneasinesses, either of body or mind, as those were who, by vicious living, luxury, and extravagances on one hand, or by hard labour, want of necessaries, and mean or insufficient diet on the other hand, bring distempers upon themselves by the natural consequences of their way of living; that the middle station of life was calculated for all kind of virtues, and all kind of enjoyments; that peace and plenty were the handmaids of a middle fortune; that temperance, moderation, quietness, health, society, all agreeable diversions, and all desirable pleasures, were the blessings attending the middle station of life; that this way men went silently and smoothly through the world, and comfortably out of it; not embarrassed with the labours of the hands or of the head; not sold to a life of slavery for daily bread, or harassed with perplexed circumstances, which rob the soul of peace and the body of rest; not enraged with the passion of envy, or the secret burning lust of ambition for great things-but in easy circumstances, sliding gently through the world, and sensibly tasting the sweets of living without the bitter; feeling that they are happy, and learning, by every day's experience, to know it more sensibly.

After this he pressed me earnestly, and in the most affectionate manner, not to play the young man, or to precipitate myself into miseries, which nature, and the station of life I was born in, seem to have provided against; that I was under no necessity of seeking my bread; that he would do well for me, and endeavour to enter me fairly into the station of life which he had been just recommending to me; and that, if I was not very easy and happy in the world, it must be my mere fate, or fault, that must hinder it; and that he should have nothing to answer for, having thus discharged his duty, in warning me against measures which he knew would be to my hurt. In a word, that as he would do very kind things for me, if I would stay and settle at home as he directed, so he would not have so much hand in my misfortunes as to give me any encouragement to go away; and, to close all, he told me I had my elder brother for my example, to whom he had used the same earnest persuasions to keep him from going into the Low Country wars, but could not prevail, his young desires prompting him to run into the army, where he was killed; and though he said he would not cease to pray for me, yet he would venture to say to me, that if did take this foolish step, God would not bless me and I would have leisure hereafter to reflect upon having neglected his counsel, when there might be none to assist in my recovery.

BERNARD MANDEVILLE.

BERNARD MANDEVILLE, author of The Fable of The Bees, was a nervous and graphic writer, who squandered upon useless and lax speculations powers that would have fitted him admirably for being a

novelist or essayist. He was born in Holland in 1670, but seems early to have come to England, where he practised as a physician. After some obscure works, Mandeville produced, in 1723, his celebrated Fable of The Bees, or Private Vices Made Public Benefits, which was soon rendered conspicuous by being presented by the grand jury of Middlesex, on account of its immoral and pernicious tendency. Bishop Berkeley answered the arguments of the Fable, and Mandeville replied in Letters to Dion. He also published Free Thoughts on Religion, and An Inquiry into the Origin of Honour, and the Usefulness of Christianity in War, both of which, like his Fable, were of questionable tendency. He died in 1733. The satire of Mandeville is general, not individual; yet his examples are strong and lively pictures. He describes the faults and corruptions of different professions and forms of society, and then attempts to show that they are subservient to the grandeur and worldly happiness of the whole. If mankind, he says, could be cured of the failings they are naturally guilty of, they would cease to be capable of forming vast, potent, and polite societies. His object was chiefly to divert the reader, being conscious that mankind are not easily reasoned out of their follies. Another of the paradoxes of Mandeville is, that charity schools, and all sorts of education, are injurious to the lower classes. The view which he takes of human nature is low and degrading enough to have been worthy the adoption of Swift; and some of his descriptions are not inferior to those of the dean. For example:

[Flattery of the Great.]

If you ask me where to look for those beautiful shining qualities of prime ministers, and the great favourites of princes, that are so finely painted in dedications, addresses, epitaphs, funeral sermons, and inscriptions, I answer, There, and nowhere else. Where would you look for the excellency of a statue but in that part which you see of it? 'Tis the polished outside only that has the skill and labour of the sculptor to boast of; what is out of sight is untouched. Would you break the head or cut open the breast to look for the brains or the heart, you would only show your ignorance, and destroy the workmanship. This has often made me compare the virtues of great men to your large China jars: they make a fine show, and are ornamental even to a chimney. One would, by the bulk they appear in, and the value that is set upon them, think they might be very useful; but look into a thousand of them, and you will find nothing in them but dust and cobwebs.

[Society Compared to a Bowl of Punch.]

Abundance of moderate men I know that are enemies to extremes will tell me that frugality might happily supply the place of the two vices, prodigality and avarice; that if men had not so many profuse ways of spending wealth, they would not be tempted to so many evil practices to scrape it together, and consequently that the same number of men, by equally avoiding both extremes, might render themselves more happy, and be less vicious without than they Whoever argues thus, shows himcould with them. self a better man than he is a politician. Frugality is like honesty, a mean starving virtue, that is only fit for small societies of good peaceable men, who are contented to be poor so they may be easy; but in a large stirring nation, you may have soon enough of it. Tis an idle dreaming virtue that employs no hands, and therefore very useless in a trading country, where there are vast numbers that one way or other must be all set to work. Prodigality has a thousand

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from any neighbourhood. In years of plenty, many thousands of them meet together in the mountains, where they feast and riot for many days; and at country weddings, markets, burials, and the like public occasions, they are to be seen, both men and women, perpetually drunk, cursing, blaspheming, and fighting together. These are such outrageous disorders, that it were better for the nation they were sold to the galleys or West Indies, than that they should continue any longer to be a burden and curse upon us.'

JONATHAN SWIFT.

and Government, his Letters on the Sacramental Test, Argument against the Abolition of Christianity, and Predictions for the Year 1708, by Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq. Various political tracts followed, the most conspicuous of which are, The Conduct of the Allies, published in 1712, and The Public Spirit of the Whigs, in 1714. The latter incensed the Duke of Argyle and other peers so much, that a proclamation offering a reward of £300 was issued for the discovery of the author. In 1713, Swift was rewarded with the deanery of St Patrick's in Dublin; but the destruction of all his hopes of further preferment followed soon after, on the accession of the House of Hanover to the throne, and the return of the Whig party The most powerful and original prose writer of to power. He withdrew to Ireland, a disappointed this period was DR SWIFT, the celebrated dean of man, full of bitterness against many of the men and St Patrick's. We have already noticed his poetry, things of his age. His feelings partly found vent which formed only a sort of interlude in the strangely in several works which he published on national mingled drama of his life. None of his works were subjects, and which rendered him exceedingly powritten for mere fame or solitary gratification. His pular-A Proposal for the Universal Use of Irish restless and insatiate ambition prompted him to Manufactures, and Letters by M. B. Drapier against wield his pen as a means of advancing his interests, Wood's patent for supplying Ireland with a copper or expressing his personal feelings, caprices, or re- coinage. His talents were in full vigour, and his sentment. In a letter to Bolingbroke, he says- mind, ever active, poured forth a vast number of All my endeavours, from a boy, to distinguish my-slight pieces on the topics of the day. In 1726 apself, were only for want of a great title and fortune, peared Gulliver's Travels, the most original and that I might be used like a lord by those who have extraordinary of all his productions. A few of his an opinion of my parts-whether right or wrong, it friends-Pope, Bolingbroke, Gay, and Arbuthnot— is no great matter; and so the reputation of wit or were in the secret as to the authorship of this satigreat learning does the office of a blue ribbon, or of rical romance; but it puzzled the world in no ordia coach and six horses.' This was but a poor and nary degree, and this uncertainty tended to increase sordid ambition, and it is surprising that it bore the interest and attraction of the work. While such fruit. The first work of any importance by courtiers and politicians recognised in the adventures Swift was a political tract, written in 1701, to vin- of Gulliver many satirical allusions to the court and dicate the Whig patriots, Somers, Halifax, and politics of England-to Walpole, Bolingbroke, the Portland, who had been impeached by the House of Prince of Wales, the two contending parties in the Commons. The author was then of the ripe age of state, and various matters of secret history-the thirty-four; for Swift. unlike his friend Pope, came great mass of ordinary readers saw and felt only the but slowly to the maturity of his powers. The wonder and fascination of the narrative. The aptreatise was entitled A Discourse of the Contests and pearance, occupations, wars, and pursuits of the tiny Dissensions between the Nobles and Commons of Athens Lilliputians-the gigantic Brobdingnagians—the and Rome. It is plainly written, without irony or fearful, misanthropic picture of the Yahoos-with eloquence. One sentence (the last in the fourth the philosophic researches at Laputa-all possessed chapter) closes with a fine simile. Although,' he novelty and attraction for the mere unlearned reader, says, most revolutions of government in Greece who was alternately agitated with emotions of surand Rome began with the tyranny of the people, prise, delight, astonishment, pity, and reprobation. yet they generally concluded in that of a single per- The charm of Swift's style, so simple, pure, and unson: so that an usurping populace is its own dupe; a affected, and the apparent earnestness and sincerity mere underworker, and a purchaser in trust for with which he dwells on the most improbable cirsome single tyrant, whose state and power may ad- cumstances, are displayed in full perfection in Gulvance to their own ruin, with as blind an instinct liver, which was the most carefully finished of all as those worms that die with weaving magnificent his works. Some tracts on ecclesiastical questions, habits for beings of a superior nature to their own.' and the best of his poetry, were afterwards produced. Swift's next work was his Battle of the Books, written His other prose works were, A History of the Four to support his patron, Sir William Temple, in his Last Years of Queen Anne (not published till long dispute as to the relative merits of ancient and after his death), Polite Conversation, a happy satire modern learning. The Battle of the Books' exhi- on the frivolities of fashionable life, and Directions bits all the characteristics of Swift's style, its per- for Servants, a fragment which also appeared after sonal satire, and strong racy humour. These qualities his death, and on which he bestowed considerable were further displayed in his Tale of a Tub, written pains. It exemplifies the habit of minute observaabout the same time, and first published in 1704. tion which distinguished Swift, and which someThe object of his powerful satire was here of a times rendered him no very agreeable inmate of a higher cast; it was to ridicule the Roman Catholics house. Various editions of Swift's works have been and Presbyterians, with a view of exalting the High published, but the best and most complete is that by Church of England party. His three heroes, Peter, Sir Walter Scott, in nineteen volumes. His rank as Martin, and Jack, represent Popery, the Church of a writer has long since been established. In origiEngland, and the Protestant dissenters; and their nality and strength he has no superior, and in wit adventures, if not very decorous, are at least irre- and irony-the latter of which sistibly ludicrous. How any clergyman could write and publish in such a strain on religious subjects. must ever remain a marvel. But Swift published anonymously. He soon grew dissatisfied with the Whigs, and his next publications united him with the Tory party. In 1708 appeared his Sentiments of a Church of England Man, in Respect to Religion

he was born to introduce, Refined it first, and showed its use-he shines equally pre-eminent. He was deficient in purity of taste and loftiness of imagination. The frequency with which he dwells on gross and disgusting images, betrays a callousness of feeling that