ftances, probably, that the world owes, a Swift; to the want of money, want of learning, want of friends. Whoever is acquainted at all with the life and writings of Swift, muft fee that he had an uncommon share of spirit and fire in his conftitution. Such, as had it not been kept under during the heat of youth, would probably have precipitated him into fome extravagant courfes. Nothing less than the lownefs of his circumftances from his birth, could have kept that fire from burfting out; nothing lefs than the galling yoke of dependance, could have reftrained that proud fpirit within. due bounds. His poverty and his pride were two excellent guards fet over him, during that moft dangerous time of life, to fix and keep him in a course of virtue. The one debarred him from exceffes in the pleasureable gratification of youth, which money only can procure; the other, kept him from endeavouring to obtain from the purfe of others, by mean compliances, any pleasures that he could not purchase from his own fund. Thus, neceffarily fixed in a course of temperance, the practice of other moral duties became eafy to him. And indeed there was no flaw to be found in his moral character, during his refidence in the College, however low his parts might be rated.

Thus far I have fhewn the benefits which were probably derived to him from his want of fortune. I shall now fhew what advantages it is likely he derived from want of learning.

Had Swift met with fufficient encouragement to apply himself to the learning of the times; had his fituation in the College been rendered easy to him, so that he might have purfued his ftudies with an undisturbed mind; had his emulation been rouzed in fuch a way as to make him enter into a competition with thofe of his own ftanding; it is highly probable, from the greatness

of

9

of his parts, that he would have thrown all competitors at a distance. And in that cafe, he might have acquired a fondness for those ftudies by which he obtained fame, however difagreeable they might have been to him at firft. He might have proved the foremost Logician, Metaphyfician, or Mathematician of his time; he might have past his life, like fome of the moft eminent of his fellow ftudents, in ufelefs fpeculations; and instead of writing a Laputa, he might himself have been qualified for a profefforship in the academy of that airy region.

Let us only fuppofe Swift to have been a diftinguish.. ed scholar in the Univerfity, and we may reasonably fuppofe alfo, that, circumftanced as he was, his friends would have made him fit for a fellowship there, as the surest and best provifion for any one fo educated. Or elfe, encouraged by the hopeful expectations raised from the diftinguished figure he made in the College, they would have pushed all their intereft to have gotten him fome fmall preferment in the Church. In either of which cafes, the Swift of the world might have been lost in a University Monk, or a Country Vicar. On the other hand, the difgrace thrown on him in the College, deprived him of all hopes of preferment, and rendered his friends fo cold to his intereft, that he had no expectations of future fupport, but by changing the fcene to another country; where only there was a field large enough for the exertion of thofe high talents, which yet in a great measure lay dormant in him.

And with refpect to the third article, the want of friends; had it not been for that circumstance, he would not have been under a neceffity of going to feek for new ones, in another country; and he might probably never have fallen into the hands of that particular friend, who was perhaps the only one living, capable of forming

forming his mind to thofe great things which he afterwards executed.

It was in the year 1688 that Swift left Ireland; he was then in his one-and-twentieth year. Suppofe him landed in a country where he was utterly unknown, and without recommendatory letters that might introduce him to the acquaintance, or procure him the affiftance of any one in that country, with regard to any future plan of life. Let us ftop a while, and furvey the future Swift, fetting out on foot from Chester, in order to go to a mother, who was utterly incapable of affording him the leaft affiftance, as fhe herfelf was chiefly fupported by prefents and contributions from her relations. One can hardly imagine a fituation more hopeless with regard to externals; and with refpect to his own internal powers, he had yet given no proofs of thofe, which would not rather occafion defpondency in his relations, than raife in them any hopes of his being able to push his own way in the world. And indeed at that juncture perhaps there were few living lefs qualified than he to do any thing for his own fupport.

The world was all before him where to choose
His place of reft, and Providence his guide.

And he seems indeed to have been then under the immediate guidance of Providence; for, hopeless as the end of fuch a journey might at that time have appeared, it proved in fact the means of all his future greatnefs.

After a refidence of fome months with his mother, he laid before her the uncomfortableness of his present fituation, and the gloominefs of his future prospects; requesting her advice what courfe he fhould pursue. She clearly faw that her fon's cafe required the affist

ance

ance of fome powerful friend, and the unfortunate can feldom number fuch among their acquaintance. She recollected however that Sir William Temple's Lady was her relation; and that there had been a long intimacy between Sir John Temple, father to Sir William, and the family of the Swifts in Ireland; fhe knew alfo that a cousin German of her fon's, the Revd. Thomas Swift, had been Chaplain to Sir William Temple, and had been provided for by him in the Church, on the fcore of family connections. She recommended it therefore to her fon to go to Sir William, and make his cafe known to him.

*

However grating fuch an application might be to the proud fpirit of Swift, yet, as it was his only resource, he followed his mother's advice, and foon afterwards presented himself to Sir William Temple at Shene, requesting his advice and affiftance. Sir William was a man of too much goodness and humanity, not to take compaffion on a young man born an orphan, without fortune, diftreffed from his cradle, and without friends or interest to push him forward in life; who at the same time had a double claim to his favour, as related by blood to a wife for whom he had the highest honour and affection; and as the offspring of a family with whom his father had lived in the clofeft ties of friendship. He accordingly received him cheerfully into his house, and treated him with that hofpitable kindness, which family connections, and what was ftill more to a generous mind, his unfortunate fituation demanded of him. But yet we do not find, for a long time, that his kindefs to him was encreased from motives of per

* Sir William Temple's own place of refidence was a feat which he had purchased, called Moor-Park, near Farnham in Surrey; but at the time of the Revolution, as Moor-Park grew unfafe by lying in the way of both armies, Sir William went back to his houfe at Shene, which he had given up to his fon,

fonal

fonal regard, on a nearer acquaintance with him. It is probable that Sir William early founded his depth of knowledge, and examined into the progrefs he had made in his studies; which was far from being fo great as might have been expected from his courfe of education, and time of life. The first good office that Sir William could do him, therefore, was to put him into a courfe of reading, in order that he might redeem loft time. Accordingly we find, that Swift, during his refidence with Sir William, applied himfelf with great affiduity to his studies; in which, for the space of eight years, he was employed, by his own account, at least eight hours a day, with but few intermiffions. The first of these was occafioned by an illness, which he attributed to a furfeit of fruit, that brought on a coldness of stomach, and giddiness of head, which pursued him more or lefs during the remainder of his life. After two years refidence at Moor-Park, to which place he had removed with Sir William when the troubles were ended, his ftate of health was fo bad, that he was advised by physicians to try the effects of his native air, towards reftoring it. In purfuance of this advice he revifited Ireland; but finding himself growing worse there, he foon returned to Moor-Park; where, upon the abatement of his illness, he renewed his application to his ftudies.

It does not appear that Sir William Temple knew any thing of the value of his young gueft, till about this time; and Swift himself says that it was then hẹ began to grow into fome confidence with him. The little progrefs Swift had made in learning at his firft arrival at Shene, must have given Sir William but a mean opinion of his capacity; and the few things which he wrote during his firft two years refidence with him, could have given him no very high idea of his genius.

For