of those whom he loved, yet it was always dangerous to truft him, becaufe he confidered himself as difcharged by the first quarrel from all ties of honour or gratitude; and would betray thofe fecrets which in the warmth of confidence had been imparted to him. This practice drew upon him an univerfal accufation of ingratitude: nor can it be denied that he was very ready to fet himself free from the load of an obligation; for he could not bear to conceive himself in a ftate of dependence, his pride being equally powerful with his other paffions, and appearing in the form of infolence at one time, and of vanity at another. Vanity, the most innocent fpecies of pride, was most frequently predominant: he could not eafily leave off, when he had once begun to mention himself or his works; nor ever read his verses without ftealing his eyes from the page to discover, in the faces of his audience, how they were affected with any favourite paffage.

A kinder name than that of vanity ought to be given to the delicacy with which he was always careful to feparate his own merit from every other man's, and to reject that praise to which he had no claim. He did not forget, in mentioning his performances, to mark every line that had been fuggefted or amended; and was fo accurate, as to relate that he owed three words in The Wanderer to the advice of his friends.

His veracity was queftioned, but with little reason; his accounts, though not indeed always the fame, were generally confiftent. When he loved any man, he fuppreffed all his faults; and when he had been offended by him, concealed all his virtues: but his characters were generally true, fo far as he proceeded; though it cannot be denied, that his partiality might have fometimes the effect of falfehood.

In cafes indifferent, he was zealous for virtue, truth, and juftice: he knew very well the neceffity of goodnefs to the present and future happiness of mankind; nor is there perhaps any writer, who has lefs endeavoured to please by flattering the appetites or perverting the judgement.

As an author, therefore, and he now ceafes to influence mankind in any other character, if one piece which he had refolved to fupprefs be excepted, he has very little to fear from the ftricteft moral or religious cenfure. And though he may not be altogether fecure against the objections of the critic, it must however be acknowledged, that his works are the productions of a genius truly poetical; and, what many writers who have been more lavishly applauded cannot boast, that they have an original air, which has no refemblance of any foregoing writer, that the verfification and fentiments have a caft peculiar to themselves, which no man can imitate with fuccefs, because what was nature in Savage, would in another be affectation. It must be confeffed, that his defcriptions are ftriking, his images animated, his fictions juftly imagined, and his allegories artfully purfued; that his diction is ele vated, though fometimes forced, and his numbers fonorous and majestic, though frequently fluggish and encumbered. Of his ftyle, the general fault is harshnefs, and its general excellence is dignity; of his fentiments, the prevailing beauty is fimplicity, and uniformity the prevailing defect.

For his life, or for his writings, none, who candidly confider his fortune, will think an apology either neceffary or difficult. If he was not always fufficiently instructed in his fubject, his knowledge was at leaft

3

greater

greater than could have been attained by others in the fame ftate. If his works were fometimes unfinished, accuracy cannot reasonably be exacted from a mafi oppreffed with want, which he has no hope of relieving but by a speedy publication. The infolence and refentment of which he is accufed were not easily to be avoided by a great mind irritated by perpetual hardfhips, and conftrained hourly to return the fpurns of contempt, and reprefs the infolence of profperity; and vanity furely may be readily pardoned in him, to whom life afforded no other comforts than barren praises, and the confeiousness of deferving them.

Those are no proper judges of his conduct, who have flumbered away their time on the down of plenty; nor will any wife man easily prefume to fay, "Häd I "been in Savage's condition, I fhould have lived or ❝ written better than Savage.'

This relation will not be wholly without its tife, if thofe, who languifh under any part of his fufferings, fhall be enabled to fortify their patience, by reflecting that they feel only thofe afflictions from which the abilities of Savage did not exempt him; or thofe, who, in confidence of fuperior capacities or attainments, difregard the common maxims of life, fhall be reminded, that nothing will fupply the want of prudence; and that negligence and irregularity, long continued, will make knowledge ufelefs, wit ridiculous and genius contemptible.

YOL. III.

B b

SWIFT.

SWIFT.

N Account of Dr. Swift has been already col great diligence and acuteness, by Dr. Hawkefworth, according to a scheme which I laid before him in the intimacy of our friendship. I cannot therefore be expected to fay much of a life, concerning which I had long fince communicated my thoughts to a man capable of dignifying his narration with fo much elegance of language and force of sentiment.

Alected, with great diligence and by

JONATHAN SWIFT was, according to an account faid to be written by himself, the fon of Jonathan Swift, an attorney, and was born at Dublin on St. Andrew's day, 1667: according to his own report, as delivered by Pope to Spence, he was born at Leicefter, the fon of a clergyman, who was minifter of a parish in Herefordshire. During his life the place of his birth was undetermined. He was contented to be called an Irishman by the Irish; but would occafion*Spence's Anecdotes, vol. II. p. 273.

ally

ally call himself an Englishman. The queftion may, without much regret, be left in the obfcurity in which he delighted to involve it.

Whatever was his birth, his education was Irish. He was fent at the age of fix to the fchool at Kilkenny, and in his fifteenth year (1682) was admitted into the' University of Dublin.

In his academical ftudies he was either not diligent or not happy. It must difappoint every reader's ex-' pectation, that, when at the ufual time he claimed the Bachelorship of Arts, he was found by the examiners too confpicuoufly deficient for regular admiffion, and obtained his degree at laft by special favour; a term ufed in that univerfity to denote want of merit.

Of this difgrace it may be eafily fuppofed that ha was much afhamed, and fhame had its proper effect in producing reformation. He refolved from that time to study eight hours a-day, and continued his induftry for seven years, with what improvement is fufficiently known. This part of his ftory well deferves to be remembered; it afford useful admonition and powerful encouragement to men, whofe abilities have been made for a time ufelefs by their paffions or pleasures, and who, having loft one part of life in idlenefs, are tempted to throw away the remainder in defpair.

may

In this course of daily application he continued three years longer at Dublin; and in this time, if the obfervation and memory of an old companion may be trufted, he drew the first sketch of his Tale of a Tub.

When he was about one-and-twenty (1688), being by the death of Godwin Swift his uncle, who had fupported him, left without fubfiftence, he went to confult his mother, who then lived at Leicester, about the