Jonathan Swift: Quotations (3)

On his own origins: ‘My birth, although from a family not undistinguished in its time, is many degrees inferior to yours. All my pretensions upon persona and parts, infinitely so. I am a younger son of younger sons. You were born to a great fortune […]’ (letter; [to Bolingbroke], Dublin, 31 Oct. 1729.)

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On Anglo-Ireland: [Swift complained that] ‘all persons born in Ireland are called and treated as Irishmen, although their fathers and grandfather were born in England; and their predecessors have been conquerors of Ireland, it is humbly conceived they ought to be on as good a foot as any subjects of Britain, according to the practice of all other nations, and particularily the Greeks and Romans’ (Letter to Lord Peterborough, 28 April 1726).

On Irish Viceroys: ‘[…] A Lord Lieutenant is to be dispatched over in great Haste, before the ordinary Time, and a parliament summoned, by anticipating a Prorogation; merely to put an Hundred Thousand Pounds into the Pocket of a Sharper, by the ruin of a most loyal Kingdom.’ (Works, Vol. 10, p.57.)

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On People of Ireland: ‘Were not the People of Ireland born as free as those of England? How have they forfeited their Freedom? Is not the[ir] Parliament as fair a Representative of the People, as that of England? And hath not their Privy Council as great, or a greater Share in the Administration of publick Affairs? Are they not Subjects of the same King? does not the same Sun shine over [var., on] them? And have they not the same God for their Protector? Am I a free-man in England, and do I become a Slave in six Hours by crossing the Channel?’ (‘Some Observation on the Report of the Committee’, in “The Drapier’s Letters”; Works, ed. Davis, Vol. 10, p.31; quoted in Henry Craik, Life of Swift, Vol. 2, p.72; Carl Van Doren, Intro., Portable Swift, 1948, Penguin Edn., p.29, in Richard Quintana, Jonathan Swift: An Introduction, OUP 1962, p.131.)

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Consent of the governed: ‘For in Reason, all Government without the Consent of the Governed, is the very Definition of Slavery; But in Fact, Eleven Men well armed, will certainly subdue one single man in his Shirt. But I have done. For those who have used Power to cramp Liberty have gone so far as to Resent even the Liberty of Complaining, altho’ a Man upon the Rack was never known to be refused the Liberty of Roaring as loud as he thought fit.’ (“Drapier’s Letters” [No. 4]; Works, ed. Davis, Vol. 10, pp.62-3; see also Joseph McMinn, Swift’s Irish Pamphlets, 1991, p.80; for longer extract, see under Quotations [1], supra; also under William Molyneux, supra - where Molyneux’s sentence which inspired the references to complaint is also quoted.)

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On Religious faith: ‘It is highly probable, that if God should please to reveal unto us this great mystery of the Trinity, or some other Mysteries in our Holy Religion, we should not be able to understand them, unless he would at the same time think fit to bestow on us some new Powers or Faculties of Mind, which we want at present, and reserved till the Day of Resurrection to Life eternal. For now, as the Apostle says, we see through a glass darkly, but then Face to Face.’ [1 Cor. 13:12]; (q. source.)

On Politics & religion: ‘We are unhappily divided in to two parties, both of which pretend a mighty zeal for our religion and government, only they disagree about the means. The evils we must fence against are, on the one side, fanaticism and infidelity in religion, and anarchy, under the name of the commonwealth, in government; on the other side, popery, slavery, and the Pretender from France.’ (Quoted in Carl Van Doran, intro., Portable Swift, Viking 1948; Pengiun 1977, p.15.)

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On Misanthropy: ‘I have ever hated all Nations professions and Communityes and all my love is towards individualls for instance I hate the tribe of Lawyers, but I love Councellor such a one, Judge such a one for so with Physicians (I will not Speak of my own Trade) Soldiers, English, Escotch, 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 my self for many years (but do not tell) and so I shall go on till I hae done with them I have got materials Towards a Treatise proving the falsity of that Definition animale rationale; and to show it should be only rationis capax. Upon this great foundation of Misanthropy (though in Timons manner) The whole building of my Travells is erected: And I never will have peace of mind till all honest men are of my Opinion: by Conseqence you are to embrace it immediately and procuse that all who deserve my Esteem may do so too. The matter is so clear that it will admit of little dispute: nay I will hold a hundred pounds that you and I agree the Point.’ (Letter to Alexander Pope, 29 Sept. 1725; Correspondence, III, 103; in Seamus Deane, ed., The Field Day Anthology of Irish Writing, 1991, Vol. I, p.351.) Cf., Gulliver’s Travels (1726): ‘“I cannot but conclude”’, says the King, “[that] the bulk of your natives to be the most pernicious race of little odious vermin that nature ever suffered to crawl upon the face of the earth.”’

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On Patriotism: ‘I do profess without affection, that your kind opinion of me as a patriot (since you call it so) is what I do not deserve; because what I do is owing to perfect rage and resentment, and the mortifying sight of slavery, folly, and baseness about me, among which I am forced to live’ (Letter to Alexander Pope, 1 June 1728; in Correspondence, ed. H. Williams, 1963-65, 3, 289).

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Acts of Union (on the Union of Scotland and England): ‘A Vessel with a double Keel;While just like ours, new rigg’d and man’d / And got about a League from Land, / By Change of Wind to Leeward Side / The Pilot knew not how to guide. / So tossing Faction will o’erwhelm / Our crazy double-bottom’d Realm.’ (“Verses Said to be Written on the Union”, c.1707.)

Disappointment (I): ‘I never wake without finding life a more insignificant thing than it was the day before: which is one great advantage I get by living in this country, where there isnothing I shall be sorry to lose; but my greatest misery is recollecting the scene of twenty years past, and then all on a sudden dropping from the present. remember when I was a little boy, I felt a great fish at the end of my line which I drew up almost on the ground. But it dropped in and the disappointment vexeth me to this very day and I believe it was the type of all my future disappointments.’ (Letter to Viscount Bolingbroke and Alexander Pope, 5 April 1729; Correspondence, III, 329; extract in [inter al.] A. N. Jeffares & Peter Van de Kamp, eds., Irish Literature: The Eighteenth Century - An Annotated Anthology (Dublin/Oregon: Irish Academic Press 2006, pp.79.-80.)

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Disappointment (II) ‘When I was a schoolboy at Kilkenny, and in the lower form, I longed very much to have a horse of my own to ride on. One day I saw a poor man leading a very mangy lean horse out of the town to kill him for the skin. I asked the man if he would sell him, which he readily consented to upon my offering him somewhat more than the price of the hide, which was all the money I had in the world. I immediately got on him, to the great envy of some of my school fellows, and to the ridicule of others, and rode him about the town. The horse soon tired, and laid down. As I had no stable to put him into, nor any money to pay for his sustenance, I began to find out what a foolish bargain I had made, and cried heartily for the loss of my cash; but the horse dying soon after upon the spot gave me some relief.’ (From Thomas Sheridan, The Life of the Rev. Dr. Jonathan Swift, 1784; extract in [inter al.] A. N. Jeffares & Peter Van de Kamp, eds., Irish Literature: The Eighteenth Century - An Annotated Anthology (Dublin/Oregon: Irish Academic Press 2006, p.80.)

The Irish Language: ‘It would be a noble achievement to abolish the Irish language in this kingdom, so far at least as to oblige all the natives to speak only English on every occasion of business […]. This would, in a great measure civilise the most barbarous of them, reconcile them to our customs, and reduce great numbers to the national religion, whatever kind may then happen to be established.’ (Works, Vol. 12, p.89).

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Hiberno-English: ‘[W]hereas what we call the Irish Brogue is no sooner discovered, than it makes the deliverer, in the last degree, ridiculous and despise; and from such a mouth, an Englishman expects nothing but bulls, blunders and follies.’ (“On Barbarous Denominations in Ireland”, in Herbert J. Davis, Prose Works of Jonathan Swift, Vol. IV, London: Blackwell 1957; p.281; quoted in Martin J. Croghan, ‘Maria Edgeworth and the Tradition of Irish Semiotics’, in Donald E. Morse, et al., eds., A Small Nation’s Contribution to the World, Colin Smythe, 1993, pp.194-206.)

Roman Catholicism: ‘For Popery, under the Circumstances it lies in this Kingdom; it be although offensive, and inconvenient enough, from the Consequences it hath to increase the Rapine, Sloth and Ignorance, as well as Poverty of the Natives; it is not properly dangerous in that Sense, as some would have us take it; ... The Papists are wholly disarmed. They have neither Courage, Leaders, Money, or Inclinations to rebel.’ (Queries relating to the sacramental test, 1732; Works, ed. Davis, Vol. 12, pp.258-9)

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On Piracy: ‘If books can be had much cheaper from Ireland (which I believe, for I bought Blackstone there for twenty-four shillings, when when it was sold in England for four guineas), is not this an advantage, and to English booksellers, indeed, but to English readers, and to learning.’ (Letter to Benjamin Motte; quoted in Richard Cargill Cole, Irish Booksellers and English Writers, 1740-1800, 1986, p.8.)

Courtship (Letter to Miss Waring): ‘Surely, Varina, you have but a mean opinion of the joys that accompany a true, honourable, unlimited love; yet either nature or our ancestors have hugely deceived us, or else all sublunary things are dross in comparison. Is it possible that you cannot be yet unsensible to the prospect of a rapture and delight so innocent and so exalted? Trust me, Varina, Heaven has given us nothing else worth the loss of a thought. Ambition, high appearance, friends and fortune are all tasteless and insipid when they come in competition; yet millions of such glorious minutes we are perpetually losing, for every losing, irrecoverably losing, to gratify empty forms and wrong notions ... To resist the violence of our inclinations in the beginning is a strain of self denial that may have some pretences to set up for a virtue; but when they are grounded at first upon reason, when they have taken firm root and grown to a height, it is folly - folly as well as injustice - to withstand their dictates; for this passion has a property peculiar to itself, to be more commendable in its extremes; and it is as possible to err in the excess of piety as of love.’ ([q.d.]; quoted in Sybil Le Brocquy, Cadenus, Dolmen Press 1962, pp.47-48).

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Courtship (Letters to Vanessa [Esther van Homerigh): ‘I am confident you came chiding into the world and will continue so while you are in it.’ At the DEATH OF MALKIN (Vanessa’s sister) from consumption Swift he distanced himself with the advice, ‘In God’s sake get your friends about you, to advise and order everything in the forms ... I want comfort myself in this case and can give little. Time alone must give it to you. Nothing now is your part but decency.’ (p.82).

‘The Difficulty of Knowing Oneself’: ‘How wild and impertinent, how busy and incoherent a thing is the imagination, even in the best and sanest of men; in somuch, that every man may be said to be mad, but every man does not show it!’ (Quoted in P. J. Kavanagh, Voices in Ireland, 1994, p.7.)

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On court favourites: ‘He usually continues in Office till a Worse can be found; but the very Moment he is discarded, his Successor, at the Head of all the Yahoos in that District, young and old, male and female, come in a Body […]’ (Gulliver’s Travels; quoted in D. B. Wyndham Lewis, Four Favourites, London: Evan Bros. Ltd. 1948), p.vii. Lewis goes on: ‘after which the Dean ceases, as so often, to be quotable in any decent modern page.’)

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“O’Rourke’s Feast” (1720) [Swift’s translation of the “Pléaráca na Ruarcach” of Hugh MacGauran] - I. ‘Come harper, strike up, but first by your Favour / Boy, give us a Cup, ay, this has some Savour. O Rourk’s jolly Boys, ne’er dreamt of the Matter / ’Till roused by the Noise, and Musical Clatter / They bounce from their Nest, no longer will tarry / they rise ready drest, without one Ave Mary. / They dance in a round, cuting Capers and ramping / a Mercy the Ground did not burst with their Stamping / The Floor is all wet, with Leaps and with Jumps / while the water and Sweat, Splish Splash in their Pumps … Good Lord, what a sight, after all their good Chear / for people to fight in the midst of their Beer / They rise from the Feast, and hot are their Brains / a Cubit at Least, the Length of their Skeans / What Stabs and what Cuts, what Clatt’ring of Sticks / What Strokes on Guts, what bastings and kicks. / With Cudgels of Oak, well harden’d in Flame / an hundred heads broke, an hundred struck lame / You Churl, I’ll maintain, my Father built Lusk / The Castle of Slane and Carrick Drumrusk / The Earl of Kildare, and Moynalta his brother / as great as they are, I was nurs’d by their Mother / Ask that of old Madam, She’ll tell you who’s who / so far up as Adam, She knows it is true / Come down with that Beam, if Cudgells are scarce / A Blow on the Weam, and a kick on the Arse.’ (Quoted in Andrew Carpenter, ‘Changing Views of Irish Musical and Literary Culture in Eighteenth-centry Anglo-Irish Literature’, in Irish Literature and Culture, ed. Michael Kenneally, Gerrards Cross: Colin Smythe, 1992, p.13.) [Cont.]

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“O’Rourke’s Feast” (1720) [Swift’s translation] - cont: II. The following account of Swift’s translation of Plearaca na Ruarcach is given in Patrick Kennedy, Modern Irish Anecdotes, Humour Wit and Wisdom, London: Routledge & Sons n.d. [1872]): ‘Mr. Gore, a hospitable gentleman in Leitrim, once car ried off the Dean to his country house, and entertained him nobly, sparing neither beef, mutton, whiskey, music, poetry, dancing, nor good-nature. Hearing the melody above-named sung (the meaning being “The Feast of O’Rourke”), he got the author, a Mr. Maguaran, to give him a literal translation; and at his leisure he put it in English verse. It presents a picture of what our ancient hospitality would degenerate to when not kept in bounds by moderation and refined manners. “O’Rourke’s noble feast / Can ne’er be forgot / By those who were there, / Or by those who were not. // His revels to keep, / We sup and we dine / On seven score sheep, / Fat bullocks, and swine. // Usquebaugh to our feast / In pails was brought up, — / A hundred at least, / And a medher pir cup. // [37] Come, harper, strike up!, / first, by your favour, / Boy, give us a cup. / Ah, this hath some savour. // O’Rourke’s jolly boys / Ne’er dreamt of the matter, / Till roused by the noise / Of the music and clatter. / They bounce from their nest, / No longer will tarry, / They rise ready dressed, / Without one Ave-Mary. // The floor is all wet / With leaps and with jumps, / While the water and sweat / Splish-splash in their pumps. // Bring straw for our bed, / Shake it down to our feet, / Then over us spread / The winnowing sheet. // Good Lord, what a sight! After all their good cheer, / For people to fight / In the midst of their beer! // They rise from their feast, / And hot are their brains; - / A cubit at least / The length of their skeans. // What stabs and what cuts, / What clattering of sticks / What cracking of ribs, / What bastings and kicks! // With cudgels of oak, / Well hardened in flame, / A hundred heads broke, / A hundred legs lame! // ‘You churl, I’ll maintain / ’Twas my father built Lusk, / The castle of Slane, / And Carrie Drumrusk. // The Earl of Kildare, / And Moynalty his brother, / As great as they are, / I was nursed by their mother. // Ask that woman there, She’ll tell you who’s who, / As far up as Adam: / She knows it is true.’”(pp.37-38.) [In all respects true to the other version, Kennedy breaks off here. A footnote to ‘mother’ remarks: ‘Foster-mother to wit. In the old times in Ireland, no lady of rank thought of giving suck to her child or children. They much-desired duty was discharged by the wife of a rich farmer or grazier on the chief’s demesne, and the after-bonds which connected the young chief with his foster-mother and her family were of the most loving and stringent character.’ (p.38.)

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“The Lady’s Dressing Room” (1732): ‘Five Hours (and who can do it less in?) / By haughty Celia spent in Dressing; / The Goddess from her Chamber issues, / Array’d in Lace, Brocades and Tissues. / Strephon, who found the Room was void, / And Betty otherwise employ’d; / Stole in, and took a strict Survey, / Of all the Litter as it lay; / Whereof, to make the Matter clear, / An Inventory follows here. […] As Mutton Cutlets, Prime of Meat, / Which tho’ with Art you salt and beat, / As Laws of Cookery require, / And toast them at the clearest Fire; / If from adown the hopful Chops / The Fat upon a Cinder drops, / To stinking Smoak it turns the Flame / Pois’ning the Flesh from whence it came; / And up exhales a greasy Stench, / For which you curse the careless Wench; / So Things, which must not be exprest, / When plumpt into the reeking Chest; / Send up an excremental Smell / To taint the Parts from whence they fell. / The Pettycoats and Gown perfume, / Which waft a Stink round every Room. // Thus finishing his grand Survey, / Disgusted Strephon stole away / Repeating in his amorous Fits, / Oh! Celia, Celia, Celia shits!’ (...; for full text, see RICORSO Library, “Irish Classics”, [infra]).

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“Stella’s Birthday”: ‘Stella this day is thirty-four / (We shan’t dispute a year or more), / However Stella, be not troubled, / Although thy size and years are doubled, / Since first I saw thee at sixteen / The brightest virgin on the green, / So little is thy form declin’d / Made up so largely in thy mind. / Oh, would it please the gods to split / Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit, / No age could furnish out a pair / Of nymphs so graceful, wise and fair / With half the luster of your eyes, / With half your wit, your years and size: / And then before it grew too late, / How should I beg of gentle Fate / (That either nymph might have her swain) / To split my worship too in twain.’ (Accessed at Some poems can be seen on the of Mary Baker’s “Jonathan Swift” page in Poetry Palace at Geocities online; 07.08.2009.]

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“A Beautiful Young Nymph Going to Bed - Written for the Honour of the Fair Sex”: ‘Corinna, pride of Drury-lane, / For whom no shepherd sighs in vain; / Never did Covent-garden boast / So bright a batter’d, strolling toast! / No drunken rake to pick her up, / No cellar where on tick to sup; / Returning at the midnight hour; / Four stories climbing to her bower; / Then, seated on a three-legg’d chair, / 10: Takes off her artificial hair, / Now picking out a crystal eye, / She wipes it clean, and lays it by. / Her eye-brows from a mouse’s hide / Stuck on with art on either side, / Pulls off with care, and first displays ’em, / Then in a play-book smoothly lays ’em. / Now dextrously her plumpers draws, / That serve to fill her hollow jaws. / Untwists a wire and from her gums / 20: A set of teeth completely comes. / Pulls out the rags contriv’d to prop / Her flabby dugs, and down they drop. / Proceeding on, the lovely Goddess / Unlaces next her steel-ribb’d bodice, / Which, by the operator’s skill, / Press down the lumps, the hollows fill. / Up hoes her hand, and off she slips / The bolsters that supply her hips. / With gentlest touch she next explores / 30: Her shankers, issues, running sores; / Effects of many a sad disaster, / And then to each applies a plaster: / But must, before she goes to bed, / Rub off the daubs of white and red, / And smooth the furrows in her front / With greasy paper stuck upon’t. / She takes a bolus e’er she sleeps; / And then between two blankets creeps. / With pains of love tormented lies; / 40: Or, if she chance to close her eyes, / Of Bridewell and the Compter dreams, / And feels the lash, and faintly screams; / Or, by a faithless bully drawn, / At some hedge-tavern lies in pawn; / Or to Jamaica seems transported / Alone, and by no planter courted; / Or, near Fleet-ditch’s oozy brinks, / Surrounded with a hundred stinks, / Belated, seems on watch to lie, / 50: And snap some cully passing by; / Or, struck with fear, her fancy runs / On watchmen, constables and duns, / From whom she meets with frequent rubs; / But, never from religious clubs, / Whose favour she is sure to find, / Because she pays them all in kind. / Corinna wakes. A dreadful sight! / Behold the ruins of the night! / A wicked rat her plaster stole, / 60: Half eat, and dragged it to his hole. / The crystal eye, alas! was miss’d; / And puss had on her plumpers p -- ss’d. / A pigeon pick’d her issue-peas; / And Shock her tresses fill’d with fleas. / The nymph, tho’ in this mangled plight, / Must ev’ry morn her limbs unite. / But how shall I describe her arts / To re-collect the scatter’d parts? / Or show the anguish, toil, and pain, / 70: Of gathering up herself again? / The bashful Muse will never bear / In such a scene to interfere. / Corinna in the morning dizen’d, / Who sees, will spew; who smells, be poison’d.’ [Virginia Text Centre.]

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“Dr Swift”: ‘Fair Liberty was all his cry; / For her he was prepared to die. / For her he boldly stood alone, / For her he oft exposed his own.’

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“Clever Tom Clinch Going to be Hanged”: ‘As clever Tom Clinch, while the rabble was bawling, / Rode stately through Holborn, to die in his calling; / He stopt at the George for a bottle of sack, / And promis’d to pay for it when he’d come back, / His waistcoat and stockings, and breeches were white, / His cap had a new cherry ribbon to tie’t. / The maids to the doors and the balconies ran, / And said, lack-a-day! he’s a proper young man. / But, as from the windows the ladies he spied, / Like a beau in the box, he bow’d low on each side; / And when his last speech the loud hawkers did cry, / He swore from his cart, it was all a damn’d lie. / The hangman for pardon fell down on his knee; / Tom gave him a kick in the guts for his fee. / Then said, I must speak to the people a little, / But I’ll see you all damn’d before I will whittle. / My honest friend Wild, may he long hold his place, / He lengthen’d my life with a whole year of grace. / Take courage, dear comrades, and be not afraid, / Nor slip this occasion to follow your trade. / My conscience is clear, and my spirits are calm, / And thus I go off without Pray’r-Book or Psalm. / Then follow the practice of clever Tom Clinch, / Who hung like a hero, and never would flinch.’ (Quoted on O’Hara Ireland Home Page: link.)

“On Sickness” (1714): ‘’Tis true - then why should I repine / To see my life so fast decline? / But why obscurely here alone, / Where I am neither loved nor known?’

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His deafness (caused Menière’s disease): ‘That old vertigo in his head / will never leave him till he’s dead.’ Further, ‘Deaf, giddy, helpless, left alone, / To all my Friends a Burthen grown, / No more I hear my Church’s Bell, / Than if it rang out for my Knell: / At Thunder now no more I start, / Than at the Rumbling of a Cart: / Nay, what’s incredible, alack! / I hardly hear a Woman’s Clack.’ (Quoted by John Hildebidle, Irish List [Virginia Tech.], 22 Feb. 1997.)

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St. Patrick’s Hospital: ‘The Dean did by his pen defeat / An infamous destructive cheat / Taught fools their interest how to know, / And gave them arms to ward the blow. / Envy has owned it his own doing, / To save the hapless land from ruin / ; ‘He gave the little that he had / To build a house for fools and mad; / And shew’d by one satiric touch / No nation needed it so much. / That kingdom he had left his debtor, / I wish it soon may have a better.’

Dr. Arbuthnot: ‘Arbutnot is no more my friend, / Who dares to irony pretend; / Which I was born to introduce, / Refin’d it first, and shew’d its Use.’

Further: ‘So, nat’ralists observe, a Flea / Hath smaller Fleas that on him prey, / And these have sammler yet to bite ’em, / And so proceed ad infinitum: / Thus ev’ry Poet in his Kind, / Is bit by him that comes behind.’ (On Poetry.)

Epilogue to a tragedy enacted for the benefit of the poor of the Liberty [of Meath]: ‘Who dares affirm this is no pious age, / When Charity begins to tread the stage; / When actors, who at least are hardly savers, / Afford to give a benefit to weavers? / Stay, let me see, how finely will it sound / Imprimis, from His Grace a hundred pounds! / Peers, clergy, gentry, all are benefactors, / And then comes in the item of the actors. / Item, the actors freely give a day, / The poet had no more who made the play. / But whence this wondrous charity in players? / They learn it not at sermons nor at prayers. / ‘ Under the rose’, since here are none but friends, / To own the truth, we have some private ends. / Since waiting women, like exacting jades, / Hold up the prices of their old brocades, / We’ll dress in manufactures made at home, / Equip our kings and generals at the Comb. / We’ll dress from Meath Street, Egypt’s haughty queen, / And Anthony shall court her in rat­ theen. / In blue shalloon shall Hannibal be clad, / And Scipio trail an Irish purple plaid. / In drugget dressed, of thirteen pence a yard, / See Philip’s son amid his Persian guard, / And proud Roxana, fired with jealous / rage, / With fifty yards of crape shall sweep the stage. / **** Oh could I see this audience clad in stuff, / Though money’s scarce, we should have trade enough; / But chintz, brocades, and lace take all away, / And scarce a crown is left to see the play.’ (Quoted in Patrick Kennedy, Modern Irish Anecdotes, Humour Wit and Wisdom, & Sons Routledge [1872], p.37.