the readers; what uneasiness of friends, lest I was turned about to the enemy; I leave to their reading the sheets to dis cover. How is this age unqualified to bear feeling truth, how unwilling to hear what we do not like, though ever so necessary to know! 15 And yet if this French monarchy were not very powerful, vastly strong, its 10 power terrible, its increasing encroaching measures formidable; why do we (and justly too) applaud, extol, congratulate, and dignify the victorious Duke of Marlborough at such a rate? If it had been a mean and contemptible enemy, how shall we justify the English army's march through so many hazards; the nation's vast charge; the daily just concern in every article of this war; 20 and (as I have frequently hinted), why not beat them, all this while? They who have made, or may make, an ill use of the true plan of French greatness, which I have laid down, must place 25 it to the account of their own corrupted prejudiced thoughts. My design is plain to tell you the strength of your enemy, that you may fortify yourselves in due proportion, and not go out with your ten 30 thousands against his twenty thousands. In like manner, I think myself very oddly handled in the case of the Swedes and the Hungarians. How many complaints of ambassadors for the one, and 35 of fellow Protestants for the other! And yet, after the whole story is finished, I have this felicity (than which no author can desire a greater) viz., not one thing I ever affirmed, but was exactly 40 true; not one conjecture have I made, but has appeared to be rational; not one inference drawn, but the consequences have proved just; and not one thing guessed at, but what has come to pass. wilderness of a subject so large that I know not where it will end. The misfortune of which is, that thinking to have finished it with this volume, I found my5 self strangely deceived, and indeed amazed, when I found the story of it intended to be the end of this volume, and hardly enough of it entered upon to say it is begun. However, the volume being of necessity to be closed, I am obliged to content myself with taking what is here as an introduction to the next volume; and to give this notice, that the matter of our English trade appears to be a thing of such consequence to be treated of, so much pretended to, and so little understood, that nothing could be more profitable to the readers, more advantageous to the public interest of this nation, or more suitable to the greatness of this undertaking, than to make an essay at the evils, causes, and remedies of our general negoce. I have been confirmed in my opinion of the consequences and benefit of this undertaking by a crowd of entreaties from persons of the best judgment, and some of extraordinary genius in these affairs; whose letters are my authority for this clause, and whose arguments are too forcible for me to resist. And this is to me a sufficient apology for a vast digression from the affairs of France, which were really in my first design, and to which my title at first too straitly bound me. Whoever shall live to see this undertaking finished, if the author (or some better pen after him) shall bring 20 or 30 volumes of this work on the stage, it will not look so preposterous as it seems now to have one whole volume to be employed on the most delightful as well as profit45 able subject of the English trade. I am now come home to England, and entered a little into our own affairs. Indeed, I have advanced some things as to trade, navies, seamen, etc., which some may think a little arrogant, because per- 5° fectly new. But as I have offered nothing but what I am always ready to make appear practicable, I finish my apology by saying to the world, Bring me to the test; and the rest, I leave to time.' In the bringing the story of France down to the matter of trade, I confess myself surprisingly drawn into a vast Things at short distance look large, and public patience is generally very short; but when remote, the case alters, and people see the reason of things in themselves. It is this remote prospect of affairs which I have before me. And this makes me not so much regard the uneasiness people show at the story being frequently broken abruptly, and run55 ning great lengths before it revolves upon itself again; but as time and the course of things will bring all about again, and make the whole to be of a piece with itself, I am content to wait the approbation of the readers, till such time as the thing itself forces it from the at present impatient readers. Readers are strange judges when they see but part of the design. It is a new thing for an author to lay down his thoughts piece-meal. Importunate cavils assault him every day. They claim to be answered to-day! before to-morrow! and 10 are so far from staying till the story is finished, that they can hardly stay till their letters come to hand, but follow the first with a second, that with clamor, and this sometimes with threatening scoffs, 15 banters, and raillery! Thus I am letter-baited by querists; and I think my trouble in writing civil private answers to teasing and querulous epistles, has been equal to, if not more 20 troublesome than, all the rest of this work. Through these difficulties I steer with as much temper and steadiness as I can. I still hope to give satisfaction in the conclusion; and it is this alone that 25 makes the continuing of the work tolerable to me. If I cannot, I have made my essay. If those that know these things better than I would bless the world with further 30 instructions, I shall be glad to see them, and very far from interrupting or discouraging them, as these do me. When I first found the design of this paper (which had its birth in tenebris) [in darkness], I considered it would be a thing very historical, very long; and 5 though it could be much better performed than ever I was likely to do it, this age had such natural aversion to a solemn and tedious affair, that however profitable, it would never be diverting, and the world would never read it. To get over this difficulty, the secret hand (I make no doubt) that directed this birth into the world, dictated to make some sort of entertainment or amusement at the end of every paper, upon the immediate subject, then on the tongues of the town - which innocent diversion would hand on the more weighty and serious part of the design into the heads and thoughts of those to whom it might be useful. I take this opportunity to assure the world that receiving or answering letters of doubts, difficulties, cases, and questions, as it is a work I think myself very meanly qualified for, so it was the remotest thing from my first design of anything in the world; and I could be heartily glad, if the readers of this paper would excuse me from it yet. But I see it cannot be, and the world will have it done. I have therefore done my best to oblige them; but as I have not one word to say for my performance that way, so cumstance casually and undesignedly annexed to the work, and a curiosity, though honestly endeavored to be complied with. If the method I have taken in answering questions has pleased some wiser men more than I expected it would, I confess it is one of the chief reasons why I was induced to continue it. Let not those gentlemen who are critics in style, in method, or manner, be 35 I leave it where I found it, a mere cirangry, that I have never pulled off my cap to them, in humble excuse for my loose way of treating the world as to language, expression, and politeness of phrase. Matters of this nature differ 40 from most things a man can write. When I am busied writing essays and matters of science, I shall address them for their aid, and take as much care to avoid their displeasure as becomes me; 45 but when I am upon the subject of trade and the variety of casual story, I think myself a little loose from the bonds of cadence and perfections of style, and satisfy myself in my study to be explicit, easy, free, and very plain. And for all the rest, Nec careo, nec curo [I neither need it, nor pay attention to it]! I had a design to say something on the entertaining part of this paper; but I have so often explained myself on that head, that I shall not trouble the world much about it. I have constantly adhered to this rule in all my answers (and I refer my reader to his observation for the proof), that from the loosest and lightest questions, I endeavor to draw some useful inferences, 50 and, if possible, to introduce something solid, and something solemn in applying it. The custom of the ancients in writing fables is my very laudable pattern for this; and my firm resolution, in all I 55 write, to exalt virtue, expose vice, promote truth, and help men to serious reflection, is my first moving cause, and last directed end. that they should think it a necessary ornament to a woman? or how much worse is a wise woman than a fool? or what has the woman done to forfeit the 5 privilege of being taught? Does she plague us with her pride and impertinence? Why did we not let her learn, that she might have had more wit? Shall we upbraid women with folly, when 10 't is only the error of this inhuman custom that hindered them from being made wiser ? The capacities of women are supposed to be greater, and their senses 15 quicker than those of the men; and what they might be capable of being bred to, is plain from some instances of female wit, which this age is not without, which upbraids us with injustice, and looks as if we denied women the advantages of education, for fear they should vie with the men in their improve I have often thought of it as one of the most barbarous customs in the world, considering us as a civilized and a christian country, that we deny the advantages 20 of learning to women. We reproach the sex every day with folly and impertinence; while I am confident, had they the advantages of education equal to us, they would be guilty of less than ourselves. 30 ments. They should be taught all sorts of 25 breeding suitable both to their genius and quality. And in particular, music and dancing, which it would be cruelty to bar the sex of because they are their darlings. But besides this, they should be taught languages, as particularly French and Italian, and I would venture wolution the injury of giving a woman more tongues than one. They should, as a particular study, be taught all the graces of speech, and all the necessary air of conversation, which our common education is so defective in that I need not expose it. They should be brought to read books, and especially history; and so to read as to make them understand the world, and be able to know and judge. of things when they hear of them. One would wonder, indeed, how it should happen that women are conversible at all, since they are only beholden to natural parts for all their knowledge. Their youth is spent to teach them to stitch and sew, or make baubles. They are taught to read, indeed, and perhaps to write their names, or so; and that is the height of a woman's education. And I would but ask any who slight the sex 35 for their understanding, what is a man (a gentleman, I mean) good for, that is taught no more? I need not give instances, or examine the character of a gentleman, with a good estate, of a good 40 family, and with tolerable parts; and examine what figure he makes for want of education. The soul is placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished, or 45 the luster of it will never appear. And 't is manifest, that as the rational soul distinguishes us from brutes, so education carries on the distinction, and makes some less brutish than others. This is 50 too evident to need any demonstration. But why then should women be denied the benefit of instruction? If knowledge and understanding had been useless additions to the sex, God Almighty would 55 never have given them capacities; for he made nothing needless. Besides, I would ask such, what they can see in ignorance, To such whose genius would lead them to it, I would deny no sort of learning; but the chief thing, in general, is to cultivate the understandings of the sex, that they may be capable of all sorts of conversation; that their parts and judgments being improved, they may be as profitable in their conversation as they are pleas ant. Women, in my observation, have little or no difference in them, but as they are or are not distinguished by education. Tempers, indeed, may in some degree influence them, but the main distinguishing part is their breeding. The whole sex are generally quick and sharp I believe, I may be allowed to say, generally so: for you rarely see them lumpish and heavy when they are children, as boys will often be. If a woman be well bred, and taught the proper management of her natural wit, she proves generally very sensible and retentive. which is seen in the world between men and women, is in their education; and this is manifested by comparing it with the difference between one man or 5 woman, and another. And herein it is that I take upon me to make such a bold assertion, that all the world are mistaken in their practice about women. For I cannot think that God glorious creatures, and furnished them with such charms, so agreeable and so delightful to mankind, with souls capable of the same accomplishments with men; and all, to be only stewards of our houses, cooks, and slaves. And, without partiality, a woman of sense and manners is the finest and most 10 Almighty ever made them so delicate, so delicate part of God's creation, the glory of her Maker, and the great instance of his singular regard to man, his darling creature, to whom he gave the best gift either God could bestow or man receive. 15 And 't is the sordidest piece of folly and ingratitude in the world, to withhold from the sex the due luster which the advantages of education give to the natural beauty of their minds. Not that I am for exalting the female government in the least; but, in short, I would have men take women for com20 panions, and educate them to be fit for it. A woman of sense and breeding will scorn as much to encroach upon the prerogative of man, as a man of sense will scorn to oppress the weakness of the woman. But if the women's souls were refined and improved by teaching, that word would be lost. To say, the weakness of the sex, as to judgment, would be nonsense; for ignorance and folly would be no more to be found among A woman well bred and well taught, furnished with the additional accomplishments of knowledge and behavior, is a creature without comparison. Her society is the emblem of sublimer enjoy- 25 ments, her person is angelic, and her conversation heavenly. She is all softness and sweetness, peace, love, wit, and delight. She is every way suitable to the sublimest wish; and the man that has 30 such a one to his portion, has nothing to do but to rejoice in her, and be thankful. On the other hand, suppose her to be the very same woman, and rob her of the 35 benefit of education, and it follows: If her temper be good, want of education makes her soft and easy. Her wit, for want of teaching, makes her impertinent and talkative. Her knowledge, for want of judgment. and experience, makes her fanciful and whimsical. women than men. I remember a passage, which I heard from a very fine woman. She had wit and capacity enough, an extraordinary shape and face, and a great fortune, but had been cloistered up all her time, and for fear of being stolen, had not had t.e liberty of being taught the common necessary knowledge of women's affairs. And 40 when she came to converse in the world her natural wit made her so sensible of the want of education, that she gave this short reflection on herself: 'I am ashamed to talk with my very maids,' If her temper be bad, want of breeding makes her worse; and she grows haughty, 45 says she, for I don't know when they do insolent, and loud. If she be passionate, want of manners makes her a termagant and a scold, which is much at one with lunatic. If she be proud, want of discretion (which still is breeding) makes her conceited, fantastic, and ridiculous. And from these she degenerates to be turbulent, clamorous, noisy, nasty, the devil! The great distinguishing difference, right or wrong. I had more need go to school, than be married.' I need not enlarge on the loss the defect of education is to the sex, nor argue 50 the benefit of the contrary practice. 'Tis a thing will be more easily granted than remedied. This chapter is but an essay at the thing; and I refer the practice to those happy days (if ever they shall be) 55 when men shall be wise enough to mend it. (1697) JONATHAN SWIFT (1667-1745) Swift was born in Dublin - a chance which all his life he chose to resent as the first of many insults of fortune. At Kilkenny Grammar School and at Trinity College, Dublin, where he was wild, witty, and poor,' he had to be supported by one relative, and for the next decade, he was a discontented dependent of another, Sir William Temple. During one of his disagreements with the latter, he left in a huff, crossed to Ireland, and went into holy orders. Dryden had crushed his poetic inclinations and incurred his lasting resentment by the solid remark, Cousin Swift, you will never be a poet.' He did not discover his genius for satire until about his thirtieth year, when he wrote A Tale of a Tub and The Battle of the Books. These were published anonymously in 1704, preceded and followed by a rapid volley of pamphlets upon subjects then in dispute. For about ten years, he spent much of his time in London, mingled with the reigning wits in their homes and clubs, amused his leisure with squibs and verses, and projected the Scriblerus Club whose chief members, besides himself, were Pope, Arbuthnot, Atterbury, Parnell and Gay. In 1710, personal interest united with conscience to engage him on the Tory side. He edited the Examiner (1710-11), threw himself ferociously into political intrigue, and, for a time, wielded an extraordinary personal influence. But, though he could dictate the preferment of bishops, the author of A Tale of a Tub was powerless to secure a high appointment for himself. He had to be content with the Deanery of St. Patrick's, at Dublin, whither after the disruption of the Tory party in 1714, he permanently retired, an embittered and disappointed man. Ten years later, an attempt to exploit the Irish people by a scheme of debased coinage called forth the most angry, unscrupulous, and masterly of his controversial series, the Letters of M. B. Drapier (1724). Here, and in his Modest Proposal for preventing the Children of Poor People from being a Burden to their Parents, and similar ironical extravagances, he voiced his savage indignation at the unjust and heart-rending poverty of his adopted people. After the death of the unfortunate Stella' (Esther Johnson), Swift's powerful faculties began to show signs of derangement. I shall die at the top,' he had once said, pointing to a tree which had been blasted by lightning, and the words were prophetic. Already, in the last portions of Gulliver's Travels (1726), we see the horrible evidences of a mind diseased.' In 1741, he became furiously insane,' then lapsed into idiocy, and at last was laid to rest in his own cathedral, in the city of his birth, where,' in the words of his epitaph, which he himself composed, 'ferocious indignation can no longer tear the heart' Ubi saeva indignatio Cor ulterius lacerare nequit. I Lilliput II Brobdingung ihoos In dealing with Swift, it is never safe to forget the deadly purpose and intent to kill' which inspires his grim horseplay. He bitterly hated the world's shams and inconsistencies. His reckless and irreverent energy of thought and the acrid irony of his style made him dangerous to all he touched. His humor was like fire; what it played over, it consumed. FROM A TALE OF A TUB SECTION II Once upon a time there was a man who had three sons by one wife, and all at a birth, neither could the midwife tell certainly which was the eldest. Their father died while they were young; and upon his death-bed, calling the lads to him, spoke thus: Sons, because I have purchased no estate, nor was born to any, I have long 5 considered of some good legacies to bequeath you; and at last, with much care, as well as expense, have provided each of you (here they are) a new coat. Now, you are to understand that these coats have two virtues contained in them; one is, that with good wearing they will last you fresh and sound as long as you live; the other is, that they will grow in To the same proportion with your bodies, lengthening and widening of themselves, so as to be always fit. Here; let me see |