A Dialogue Between Dean Swift and Tho. Prior, Esq.. Unknown

Censure, and so superior to the going out, or coming into Vogue, that it frequently takes the Injuries of such Reptiles as a kind of Homage; like the Abuses offered by the common Soldiers, to Conquerors when they Ride in Triumph, and which they valued as little as the senseless Phrases and Shouts of the multitude. 'Tis time enough for true Merit and Goodness to expect Justice from Men; when it receives the Euge of the Omnipotent; for then only will Malice be out of Countenance, Envy silent, and then only will Truth (the Language of Eternity) prevail!

      Prior. Well, very well, Mr. Dean. But I am much mistaken, if you was not heartily Sick of your Patriotism, when you was so often branded and asperst by such Crowds of Pamphlets and Scriblers.

      Swift. Dr. Tom, they never gave me a moment's Pain, for the Truth is, I was too proud to be affronted, and had too high a Spirit to be humbled, by such Insults, or else indeed I had met with Opportunities enough to make me pass my Time very uneasily. But in the next place those who Writ against me, were mere toothless Animals, or at least a Sort of Irish Vipers, that tho' they lov'd to Bite, yet they wanted the pungent Venom which gives the Torment. Many of their Tracts were the poorest Productions that ever disgraced the Press; without Style, or Wit, or Sense, or Argument. I remember one of them, where both I, and the Subject he writ on, were equally ill-treated, begun like a Hebrew Book at the wrong End, with an Apology for the Author's inability to handle such weighty Points as they deserved; and indeed Tom, that single Confession was the only Thing that look'd like Truth or Modesty in the whole Performance. How could I be affronted by such miserable Efforts of Malice? and above all, if the natural elevation of my Mind, had not enabled me to look down on them with Disdain, the Dignity and usefulness of my Life, help'd me to smile on them as impotent and harmless. I was so far from being mortified by their base revilings, that I think, I wrote the better for them, and with higher Spirit, as a well mettled Horse moves the brisker for being lashed. Besides, as I often wrote for the service of the World; and the Interests of Mankind, I always appeared with every Advantage, that Candour, Honesty, and Courage, cou'd give me against Injustice, Oppression, and Tyrany. I wrote for Truth and Reason, for Liberty, and the Rights of my Country and Fellow-Subjects; and it gave me Joy, to see the Minions of a Court, and the Slaves of Power, stare at the dextrous boldness of my Pen, as I fancy a Cuckold does at a Deer, when he sees it cast its Horns.

      Prior. Why dear Dean, I will not oppose you too obstinately; but I am sure, you will not deny, that you were sufficiently mortified, with other Things, if you were not with the Sarcasms of your Rival Writers.

      Swift. What other Things pray?

      Prior. Why your not being perferr'd, nor advanc'd in the Church.

      Swift. I renounce it! I deny it! I lost nothing by not being preferred, but an enlarged Power of doing Good; and the Day is coming (much sooner than the Feeders on the Earth imagine) when I shall be allowed as fully, for the Good I would have done, as for that which I was able to accomplish. The Publick indeed lost many, and perhaps considerable Advantages, and I some hearty Prayers, by that Disappointment; at the same Time, I ever look'd on the Gain of Preferment with the noblest Scorn: I hardly look'd with more on those that disgraced it, your A–s, and your B–s, your C–s, and your D–s. The truth is, I saw in this same scurvy World, so many bad Men pass for good; so many Fools for wise; so many Ignorants for Learned; and so many Knaves for honest, and rewarded accordingly, that I was rather provok'd, than mortified. However, I never fretted, but rather diverted my Spleen, with the World's fine Mistakes; and I enjoyed in Petto, that just delight of a truely honest Mind, of either pitying, or contemning every worthless Animal, whose Advancement made him look down on me, with Insolence or Scorn.

      Prior. That was a peculiar felicity of Temper.

      Swift. It was so, and I enjoy'd it fully. If sometimes, I was weak enough to be angry at such Events, I took care, that my Ill-humour, shou'd be as useful to the Publick, as my good cou'd have been. I ever despised undeserved Grandeur, and misapplied Power, and therefore few People in high Posts, or even Kings or Queens, or Ministers, cou'd ever brag much of my Condescension, in speaking a good Word for them to Posterity, or endeavouring to blind the Eyes of the present Times, by Printing either lies or Truths in their Favour. 'Tis true, I almost as seldom gave them any Proofs of my Spite; partly out of neglect, and a despair of doing any good by it; but chiefly, as I rather chose quarrelling with my Equals, whom I cou'd safely treat as ill as they used me; for after all Tom, tho' a Man hates Lyons and Tygers, there is no great Wit or Wisdom in throwing Stones at them, and provoking the lordly Monsters, to try the strength of their Mouths, or their Fangs on you.

      Prior. I entirely agree with you there, Dean, but it is certain, if you was not mortified, you was enraged at the ill Usage your Patriotism drew on you from the Men in Power. This therefore, must have disturbed your mind remarkably, and as I was observing at first had never given you any uneasiness, had you been less zealous in your Country's Service.

      Swift. I shall chuse to say little to that; tho' probably had they used me more generously, both they and I had been better pleased. I know my Foes said, if I had not hated the Ministry so much, I had not lov'd Ireland so well, nor fought her Battles so stoutly against a stupid World, and a juncto of Copper-Coiners, Oppressors and Tax-Gatherers. But indeed, Tom, I scorn'd to write from such mean-interested Views and partial Ends; but I wrote because I lov'd Honour, Truth and Liberty, more than fifty Irelands. Nay, upon my Word, if I had liv'd three Winters in Lapland, and found it as much opprest, I would have made War with my Pen on the Danes, with the same Spirit, and attack them for so basely distressing the Slaves that croucht to them, and durst not on pain of Ruin howl under their Rods. I thank Heaven, I got the better of the redoubted Sir Robert, in that important Affair; and if I had liv'd a little longer, and my Organs had not declined too fast, I would have kept all the great Bashaws of Europe in my Dependance as Aretine did.

      Prior. Why, Dr. Dean, I was complaining of the hard Fate and ill Usage true Patriots meet with in the World, from its Neglects, if not from its Oppressions; and you stop my Mouth with Declamations of their Worth and their Influence, and make them the most formidable People in it. Don't you consider how easily they are crusht by Power.

      Swift. No! But I consider how easily they can crush Power, I mean abused Power, when they attack Oppression and plead for Liberty, and an injured People. If I was to be restored to Life again (which Heaven forbid) and was in the Prime of my Parts and Spirits, I could overturn bad Ministers as easily with my Pen, as Mahomet in his Alcoran says, the Archangel Gabriel did Mountains with the Feather of his Wing. An Author whose Writings are bottom'd on Truth, and influenced by no Motives but the sincere Love of his Country can do Wonders. As he Acts right he fears nothing; and if he be Opprest, his Sufferings do but exalt his Character and encrease his Strength as well as his Courage. I ever found this true by Experience, I never had more Spirit, more Resolution, than when I was most eminently injured; nor did I ever exert my self in a more distinguished Manner than when the Interests of two Kingdoms were both at Work, and labouring by the help of a Villain in Scarlet Robes, to String me up as a Trumpeter of Rebellion. God forgive the Enemies of sincere Patriots, who make use of all their Arts and their Power to crush and oppress them; but tho' I pray for them, I must own Tom, if Beggars, were to be chusers, I had rather they should be forgiven after they had been severely punish'd for their misdeeds, for otherwise, when Oppressors gall Men or Nations too long, Providence bears half blame.

      Prior. I shall submit to all you advance Dean, provided you quit this Subject, (which I unluckily started) and go to another, which I came to talk about, and is of more Importance; I mean our poor Country, and its present State and Circumstances; when I died, I thought I had left it in a very improving way, and on the mending hand, by my Writings and my constant Labours in its Service, and had I liv'd a little longer, I wou'd have wrote some Tracts, that wou'd have prevented some Distresses, which I hear, are likely to fall heavy on her.

      Swift. Dreams! Whims! and Delusions! If you had wrote your self as blind as Milton did, what Service cou'd you do a Nation that never thinks. You might as well expect to cure the Deaf by talking to them; Idiots by reasoning with them; or to rouse the Dead as the Romans did by bawling and weeping for their miserable Condition. If they had been retrievable by any Writings, I may justly say, they had been retrieved by mine.

      ——Si