# The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 1/Some Particulars Concerning Dr. Swift

First edition published 1784
SOME
PARTICULARS
CONCERNING
Dr. SWIFT.
Taken from Mrs. Pilkington's Memoirs.
Mrs. Pilkington's acquaintance with Dr. Swift commenced from sending him some verses on his birthday. These the dean received very kindly, and said he would see her whenever she pleased.
A few days after, she was introduced to the dean, in Dr. Delany's garden at Delville, by a gentlewoman. He saluted her, and asked the lady, if she was her daughter? The lady smiled, and said, she was Mrs. Pilkington. "What," says he, "this poor little child married! married! God help her, she is very early engaged in trouble." The dean engaging Mr. Pilkington to preach for him at the cathedral next Sunday in St. Patrick's church, Mrs. Pilkington was charmed to see with what a becoming piety the dean performed that holy service, which he had so much at heart, that he wanted not the assistance of the Liturgy, but went quite through it, without ever looking in the book. He bowed at the table; which behaviour was censured, as savouring of popery. But this circumstance may ​vindicate him from the wicked aspersion of being deemed an unbeliever, since it is plain he had the utmost reverence for the eucharist. Service being ended, the dean was surrounded at the churchdoor by a crowd of poor; to all of whom he gave charity, except an old woman, who held out a very dirty hand to him. He told her very gravely, that though she was a beggar, water was not so scarce but she might have washed her hands. When they came to the deanery, the dean very kindly saluted Mrs. Pilkington, and without allowing her time to sit down, bade her come and see his library; but merrily told Mr. Pilkington, who was for following them, that he did not desire his company. "Well," said he to her, "I have brought you here to show you all the money I got when I was in the ministry; but don't steal any of it." "I will not indeed, sir," said she. So opening a cabinet, he showed her a parcel of empty drawers: "Bless me," says he, "the money is flown." He then opened his bureau, wherein he had a great number of curious trinkets of various kinds, some of which were presented to him by the earl and countess of Oxford, lady Masham, and lady Betty Germain. At last coming to a drawer filled with medals, he bade her choose two for herself; but he could not help smiling, when she began to poise them in her hands, choosing them by weight rather than antiquity.
At dinner the dean's behaviour was very humourous. He placed himself at the head of his table, opposite to a great pier glass, so that he could see in the glass whatever the servants did behind him. He was served entirely in plate, with great ​elegance, but the beef being overroasted, put the company all in confusion. The dean called for the cookmaid, and ordered her to take the beef down stairs, and do it less. She answered very innocently, that she could not. "Why, what sort of a creature are you," says he, "to commit a fault which cannot be amended?" And turning to Mrs. Pilkington, he said very gravely, "That he hoped, as the cook was a woman of genius, he should, by this manner of arguing, be able, in about a year's time, to convince her she had better send up the meat too little than too much done;" charging the men servants, whenever they imagined the meat was ready, they should take it, spit and all, and bring it up by force, promising to aid them in case the cook resisted. Having asked Mr. and Mrs. Pilkington if they could smoke? and being answered, that they did not; "It is a sign," said he, "you were neither of you bred in the university of Oxford; for drinking and smoking are the first rudiments of learning taught there; and in those two arts no university in Europe can outdo them." Having asked Mrs. Pilkington if she had any faults? "Pray, Mr. dean," said Dr. Delany, "why will you be so unpolite as to suppose Mrs. Pilkington has any faults?" "I'll tell you," replied the dean; "whenever I see a number of agreeable qualities in any person, I am always sure they have bad ones sufficient to poise the scale." Mrs. Pilkington bowed, and told him he did her great honour; in ​that copying bishop Berkeley, whom she had frequently heard declare, that when any speech was made to him, which might be construed either into a compliment or an affront, or that had two handles, he always took hold of the best.
The dean then asked Mrs. Pilkington, if she were a queen what she would choose to have after dinner? She answered, "your conversation, sir." "Pooh," said he, "I mean, what regale." "A dish of coffee, sir," answered she. "Why then," said he, "I will so far make you as happy as a queen; you shall have some in perfection: for, when I was chaplain to the earl of Berkeley, who was in the government here, I was so poor, I was obliged to keep a coffee house, and all the nobility resorted to it to talk treason." The dean then set about making the coffee: but the fire scorching his hand, he called to Mrs. Pilkington to reach him his glove; and changing the coffeepot to his left hand, held out his right one, ordering her to put the glove on it; which accordingly she did; when taking up part of his gown to fan himself with, and acting in character of a prudish lady, he said, "Well, I don't know what to think; women may be honest that do such things; but, for my part, I never could bear to touch any man's flesh — except my husband's; whom, perhaps," said he, "she wished at the devil."
"Mr. Pilkington," said he, "you would not tell me your wife's faults; but I have found her out to be a d——n'd insolent, proud, unmannerly slut." "What has she done now?" said Mr. Pilkington. "Done," said the dean; "why nothing but sat there quietly, and never once offered to interrupt ​me in making the coffee; whereas a lady of modern good breeding would have struggled with me for the coffeepot, until she had made me scald myself and her, and made me throw the coffee in the fire, or perhaps at her head, rather than permit me to take so much trouble for her."
Mrs. Pilkington staid at home with the dean during the time of the afternoon's service; and he made her read his History of the last Session of Parliament, and the Peace of Utrecht, written at Windsor in 1713, asking her at the conclusion of every period, whether she understood it? "for I would," said he, "have it intelligible to the meanest capacity; and, if you comprehend it, it is possible every body may."
She accompanied the dean to evening prayer; and on their return to the deanery, he told Mr. and Mrs. Pilkington, that he gave them leave to stay to supper; which, from him, was a sufficient invitation.
The dean then missing his golden bottlescrew, told Mrs. Pilkington very sternly, he was sure she had stolen it. She affirmed very seriously, she had not. Upon which he looked for it: and found it where he himself had laid it: "It is well for you," said he, "that I have got it, or I would have charged you with theft." "Why, pray, sir," said she, "should I be suspected more than any other person in the company?" "For a very good reason," said he, "because you are the poorest."
At their going away, the dean handed Mrs. Pilkington down all the steps to the coach, thanking them for the honour of their company, at the same time slipping into her hand as much money as Mr. Pilkington and she had given at the offering in the ​morning, and coach-hire also; which she durst not refuse, lest she should have been deemed as great a blockhead as the parson who refused thick wine.
In one of the dean's periodical fits of deafness, he sent for Mrs. Pilkington; who having come, he brought out a large book, finely bound in Turkey leather, and handsomely gilt; "This," said he, "is the Translation of the Epistles of Horace, a present to me from the author; it is a special good cover; but I have a mind there should be something valuable within side of it." So, taking out his penknife, he cut out all the leaves close to the inner margin. "Now," said he, "I will give these what they greatly want;" and put them all into the fire. "Your task, madam, is to paste in these letters, in this cover, in the order I shall give them to you: I intended to do it myself, but that I thought it might be a pretty amusement for a child; so I sent for you." She told him, she was extremely proud to be honoured with his commands; but requested to have leave to read the letters as she went on. "Why," said the dean, "provided you will acknowledge yourself amply rewarded for your trouble, I do not much care if I indulge you so far."
In reading the letters, she could not avoid remarking to the dean, that notwithstanding the friendship Mr. Pope professed for Mr. Gay, he could not forbear a great many satirical, or, if she might be allowed to say so, envious remarks on the success of the Beggar's Opera. The dean very frankly owned, he did not think Mr. Pope was so candid ​to the merit of other writers as he ought to be. She then ventured to ask the dean, whether he thought the lines Mr. Pope addressed him with in the beginning of the Dunciad were any compliment to him? viz.
"O thou! whatever title please thine ear."
"I believe," said he, "they were meant as such, but they are very stiff." "Indeed, sir," said she, "he is so perfectly a master of harmonious numbers, that had his heart been the least affected with his subject, he must have writ better. How cold, how forced, are his lines to you, compared with yours to him!
"Hail, happy Pope! whose generous mind, &c."
"Here we see the masterly poet, and the warm, sincere, generous friend; while he, according to the character he gives of Mr. Addison, damns with faint praise." — "Well," replied the dean, "I'll show you a late letter of his." He did so, and Mrs. Pilkington was surprised to find it filled with low and ungentlemanlike reflections, both on Mr. Gay, and the two noble persons who honoured him with their patronage after his disappointment at court. "Well, madam," said the dean, "what do you think of that letter?" (seeing she had gone quite through it.) "Indeed, sir," replied she, "I am sorry I have read it; for it gives me reason to think there is no such thing as a sincere friend to ​be met with in the world." — "Why," replied he, "authors are as jealous of their prerogative as kings; and can no more bear a rival in the empire of wit, than a monarch could in his dominions." Mrs. Pilkington then observing a latin sentence writ in italick, desired the dean to explain it. "No," replied he, smiling, "I'll leave that for your husband to do. I'll send for him to dine with us, and in the mean time we'll go and take a walk in Naboth's vineyard." — "Where may that be, sir?" said she. "Why, a garden," said the dean, "I cheated one of my neighbours out of." When they entered the garden, or rather the field, which was square, and enclosed with a stone wall, the dean asked her how she liked it? "Why, pray, sir," said she, "where is the garden?" "Look behind you," said he. She did so; and observed the south wall was lined with brick, and a great number of fruit trees planted against it, which being then in blossom, looked very beautiful, "What are you so intent on?" said the dean. "The opening bloom," replied she; which brought Waller's lines to her remembrance,
"Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime."
"Oh!" replied he, "you are in a poetical vein; I thought you had been taking notice of my wall. It is the best in Ireland. When the masons were building it, (as most tradesmen are rogues) I watched them very close, and as often as they could, they put in a rotten stone; of which however I took no notice, until they had built three or four perches beyond it. Now, as I am an absolute monarch in the liberties, and king of the rabble, my way with them was, to have the wall thrown down to ​the place where I observed the rotten stone; and, by doing so five or six times, the workmen were at last convinced it was their interest to be honest:" — "or else, sir," said Mrs. Pilkington, "your wall would have been as tedious a piece of work as Penelope's web, if all that was done in the day was to be undone at night." "Well," answered the dean, "I find you have poetry for every occasion; but as you cannot keep pace with me in walking, I would have you sit down on that little bank till you are rested, or I tired, to put us more upon a par."
She seated herself, and away the dean walked, or rather trotted as hard as ever he could drive. She could not help smiling at his odd gait; for she thought to herself, he had written so much in praise of horses, that he was resolved to imitate them as nearly as he could. As she was indulging this fancy, the dean returned to her, and gave her a strong confirmation of his partiality to those animals. "I have been considering, madam, as I walked," said he, "what a fool Mr. Pilkington was to marry you; for he could have afforded to keep a horse for less money than you cost him; and that you must confess would have given him better exercise and more pleasure than a wife — Why, you laugh, and don't answer me — is it not truth?" — "I must answer you, sir," replied she, "with another question: pray how can a bachelor judge of this matter?" "I find," said he, "you are vain enough to give yourself the preference." "I do sir," replied she, "to that species here; to a Houyhnhnm I would, as becomes me, give preference. But, sir, it is going to rain." — "I hope not," said he, "for that will cost me sixpence for a coach for you," (the garden being at some distance from the ​house.) "Come, haste; O how the tester trembles in my pocket!" She obeyed; and they got home just time enough to escape a heavy shower. "Thank God," said the dean, "I have saved my money. Here, you fellow, (to the servant) carry this sixpence to the lame old man that sells gingerbread at the corner, because he tries to do something, and does not beg."
Mrs. Pilkington was showed into a little street-parlour, in which was Mrs. Brent, his housekeeper. "Here," says he, "Mrs. Brent, take care of this child, while I take my walk out within doors." The dean then ran up the great stairs, down one pair of backstairs, up another, in so violent a manner, that Mrs. Pilkington could not help expressing her uneasiness to Mrs. Brent, lest he should fall, and be hurted. Mrs. Brent said, it was a customary exercise with him, when the weather did not permit him to walk abroad.
Mrs. Brent then told Mrs. Pilkington of the dean's charity; of his giving about half of his yearly income in private pensions to decayed families; and keeping five hundred pounds in the constant service of industrious poor, which he lent out five pounds at a time, and took the payment back at two shillings a week; which, she observed, did them more service than if he gave it to them entirely, as it obliged them to work, and at the same time kept up this, charitable fund for the assistance of many. "You cannot imagine," said she, "what numbers of poor tradesmen, who have even wanted proper tools to carry on their work, have, by this small loan, been put into a prosperous way, and brought up their ​families in credit. The dean," added she, "has found out a new method of being charitable, in which, however, I believe, he will have but few followers, which is, to debar himself of what he calls superfluities of life, in order to administer to the necessities of the distressed. You just now saw an instance of it; the money a coach would have cost him, he gave to a poor man unable to walk. When he dines alone, he drinks a pint of beer, and gives away the price of a pint of wine. And thus he acts in numberless instances."
The dean came to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Pilkington at their Lilliputian palace, as he called it; and who could have thought it? He just looked into the parlour, and ran up into the garret, then into Mrs. Pilkington's bedchamber and library, and from thence down to the kitchen; and the house being very clean, he complimented her upon it, and told her, that was his custom; and that it was from the cleanliness of the garret and kitchen, he judged of the good housewifery of the mistress of the house; for no doubt but a slut may have the room clean where the guests are to be entertained.
He was sometimes very free, even to his superiours; of which the following story, related to Mrs. Pilkington by himself, may serve as one instance among a thousand others.
The last time he was in London, he went to dine with the earl of Burlington, who was then but newly married. The earl being willing, it is supposed, to have some diversion, did not introduce him to his lady, nor mention his name. After dinner, said the dean, "Lady Burlington, I hear you can sing; sing me a song." The lady looked on this ​unceremonious manner of asking a favour with distaste, and positively refused him. He said, she should sing, or he would make her. "Why, madam, I suppose you take me for one of your poor English hedge parsons; sing when I bid you." As the earl did nothing but laugh at this freedom, the lady was so vexed, that she burst into tears, and retired.
His first compliment to her when he saw her again, was, "Pray, madam, are you as proud and as illnatured now, as when I saw you last?" To which she answered with great humour, "No, Mr. dean; I'll sing for you, if you please." From which time he conceived great esteem for her. But who that knew him would take offence at his bluntness?
He was a perpetual friend to merit and learning; and utterly incapable of envy; for in true genuine wit he could fear no rival.
It has been often observed, that where great talents are bestowed, there the strongest passions are likewise given. This great man sometimes let them have dominion over him, and that on trifling occasions, especially at meal times: however, when the cloth was taken away, he made his guests rich amends for any pain he had given them. For then,
Was truly mingled in the friendly bowl, The feast of reason, and the flow of soul.
Pope.
Yet he preserved strict temperance: for he never drank above half a pint of wine, in every glass of which he mixed water and sugar, yet, if he liked his company, would sit many hours over it, unlocking all the ​springs of policy, learning, true humour, and inimitable wit.
The following story the dean told to Mrs. Pilkington.
A clergyman, who was a most learned fine gentleman, but, under the softest and politest appearance, concealed the most turbulent ambition, having made his merit as a preacher too eminent to be overlooked, had it early rewarded with a mitre. Dr. Swift went to congratulate him on it; but told him, he hoped, as his lordship was a native of Ireland, and had now a seat in the house of peers, he would employ his powerful elocution in the service of his distressed country. The prelate told him, the bishoprick was but a very small one, and he could not hope for a better, if he did not oblige the court. "Very well," says Swift, "then it is to be hoped, when you have a better, you will become an honest man." "Ay, that I will, Mr. dean," says he. "Till then, my lord, farewell," answered Swift. This prelate was twice translated to richer sees; and, on every translation, Dr. Swift waited on him to remind him of his promise; but to no purpose; there was now an archbishoprick in view, and till that was obtained, nothing could be done. Having in a short time likewise got this, he then waited on the dean, and told him, "I am now at the top of my preferment; for I well know that no Irishman will ever be made primate; therefore as I can rise no higher in fortune or station, I will zealously promote the good of my country." And from that time became a most zealous patriot.
* ↑ This story has occurred already, though not with all the circumstances here.
* ↑ All this account of Pope, and his letters relative to Gay, is pure invention: he had refused to give any countenance to this abandoned woman in the subscription for her poems, and this was the method she took of avenging herself.
* ↑ Dr. Theophilus Bolton, promoted to the bishoprick of Clonfert 1722, translated to Elphin 1724, and to the archbishoprick of Cashell 1729.