He has also called Mr. Pope his dearest friend in his will, and Mr. Pope in a letter which was written about the fame time makes this request: "Affure him [the dean] the world has nothing in it I admire fo much; nothing the lofs of which I fhould regret fo much as his GENIUS and his VIRTUES." Orrery, P. 98. his rea Orrery, 94, 186. In the beginning of the year 1741, his understanding was fo much impaired, and his paffions fo much increased, that he was utterly incapable of converfation. Strangers were not permitted to approach him, and his friends found it neceffary to have guardians appointed of his perfon and eftate. Early in the year 1742, fon was wholly fubverted, and his rage became abfolute madness. The last person whom he knew was Mrs. Whiteway, and the fight of her when he knew her no more threw him into fits of rage fo violent and dreadful that she was forced to leave him, and the only act of kindness that remained in her power was to call once or twice a week at the deanery, inquire after his health, and fee that proper care was taken of him; fometimes she would steal a look at him when his back was towards her, but did not dare to venture into his fight. He would neither eat nor drink while the fervant who brought him his provisions stayed in the room; his meat, which was ferved up ready cut, he would fometimes fuffer to ftand an hour on the table before he would touch it, and at last he would eat it walking, for, during this deplorable state of his mind, it was his conftant custom to walk ten hours a day. In October 1742, after this phrenfy had continued feveral months, his left eye fwelled to the fize of an egg, and the lid appeared to be fo much inflamed and difcoloured, that the furgeon expected it to mortify; feveral large boils also broke out on his arms and his body. The extreme pain of this tumour kept him waking near a month, and during one week it was with difficulty that five perfons kept him, by mere force, from tearing out his own eyes. It has been observed that corporal pain, whether by forcing the mind from that object which has engroffed it, or by whatever means, has reftored lunaticks to the use of reafon; and this effect, in a great degree, it produced upon the dean, for just before the tumour perfectly fubfided, and the pain left him, he knew Mrs. Whiteway, took her by the hand, and fpoke to her with his former kindness; that day, and the following, he knew his phyfician and furgeon, and all his family, and appeared to have so far recovered his understanding and temper, that the furgeon was not without hopes he might once more enjoy fociety, and be amused by the company of his old friends. This hope, however, was but of fhort duration, for a few days afterwards he funk into a state of total infenfibility, flept much, and could not, without great difficulty, be prevailed upon to walk crofs the room. This was the effect of another bodily disease, his brain being loaded with water. Mr. Stevens, an ingenious clergyman of Dublin, pronounc Orrery, 94,95,96, 97, 98. ed this to be the cafe during his illness, and, upon opening his body, it appeared that he was not mistaken; but, though he J.R. 149. often entreated the dean's friends and phyficians that his head might be trepanned and the water discharged, no regard was paid to his opinion or his entreaty. After the dean had continued filent a whole year, in this ftate of helplefs idiocy, his houfe-keeper went into his room on the 30th of November, in the morning, and told him that it was his birth-day, and that bonfires and illuminations were preparing to celebrate it as ufual; to this he immediately replied, It is all folly, they had better let it alone. Some other inftances of fhort intervals of fenfibi lity and reafon, after his madness had ended in ftupor, feem to prove that his diforder, whatever it. was, had not deftroyed, but only fufpended the powers of his mind. He was fometimes vifited by Mr. Deane Swift, a relation; and about Christmas, 1743, he seemed defirous to speak to him. Mr. Swift then told him he came to dine with him, and Mrs. Ridgeway, the houfe-keeper, immediately faid, Won't you give Mr., Swift a glass of wine, fir? To this he made no anfwer, but fhewed that he understood the queftion, by fhrugging up his fhoulders, as he had been used to do when he had a mind a friend fhould spend the evening with him, and which was as much as to fay, You will ruin me in wine. Soon after he again endeavoured, with a good deal of pain, to find words, but at last, after many efforts, not being able, he fetched a deep figh, and was afterwards filent. A few months afterwards, upon his house-keeper's removing a knife, as he was going to catch at it, he fhrugged up his fhoulders, and faid, "I am what I am, I am what I am," and, in about fix minutes, repeated the fame words two or three times. In the year 1744, he now and then called his fervant by his name, and once attempting to speak to him, but not being able to express his meaning, he fhewed signs of much uneafinefs, and at last said, I ⚫ am a fool.' Once, afterwards, as his fervant was taking away his watch, he faid, Bring it here; and, when the fame fervant was breaking a large hard coal, he said, That is a stone, you blockhead.' From this time he was perfectly filent, till the fatter end of October, 1745, and then died, without the leaft pang or convulfion, in the 78th year of his age. By his will, which is dated in May, 1740, juft before he ceased to be a reasonable being, he left about 12001. in fpecifick legacies, and the reft of his for tune, tune, which amounted to about 11000l. to erect and endow an hofpital for idiots and lunaticks. He was buried in the great ifle of St. Patrick's cathedral, under a ftone of black marble, infcribed with an epitaph in Latin, written by himself. See vol. xii. 367. From this narrative of his life, and from his works, to which it is prefixed, the ftriking peculiarities of his character may easily be collected; but there are fome incidents which relate to his converfation, and fome which refpect his perfon and private œconomy, which should by no means be omitted. In company, he neither wrapped himself up in his own importance, without deigning to communicate his knowledge, or exert his wit; nor did he engross the conversation by perpetual and overbearD.S. 366. ing loquacity. His rule was never to speak J.R. 203. more than a minute at a time, and then to wait, at least, as long for others to take up the converfation, after which he had a right to speak again. His colloquial ftile, like that of his writings, was clear, forcible, and concife. He greatly excelled in punning; a talent, which, he said, no man affected to defpife, but thofe that were without it; and his converfation would have furnished a more excellent compendium of this fpecies of wit, than was ever yet compiled, or, perhaps, ever will; fome of these fallies of his imagination are still remembered, and, among others, the following, which may ferve for examples. He happened to be at the caftle, in the lieutenancy of the earl of Pembroke, when a learned physician was haranguing his excellency upon the nature and qualities of bees, which he was perpetually calling a nation and commonwealth: Yes, my lord, fays Swift, they are a nation, and of great antiquity; you know know, my lord, Mofes takes notice of them; he numbers the Hivites among the nations which Joshua was appointed to conquer. He was another time in company with a lady, whofe long train happened to sweep down a fine fiddle, and break it, upon which he immediately cried out, Mantua væ mifera nimium vicina Cremone. But his converfation abounded with turns of wit of an higher kind; being one day at a sheriff's feast, who, after feveral other toafts had been drank, called out to him, Mr. dean, The J.R.214. trade of Ireland: the dean turned about, and immediately answered, Sir, I drink no memories *. He greatly admired the talents of the late duke of Wharton, and hearing him, one day, recount many of his frolicks: Aye, my lord, faid he, you J.R.216. have had many frolicks, but let me recommend one more to you, take a frolick to be virtuous. I affure you it will do you more honour than all the rest. The dean alfo greatly excelled in telling a story; and though in the latter part of his life he was very apt to tell his ftories too often, J.R. 218. yet his wit, as well as his virtue, was always fuperior to the wretched expedients of those despicable babblers, who are perpetually attempting to put off double entendre and prophanenefs for humour and wit. His converfation was in the highest degree chafte, and wholly free from the leaft tincture of irreligion. As he was zealous to preserve all the delicacies of converfation, he was always best pleased when some of the company were ladies; and in one of his • Dr. Brown, bishop of Cork, had just then printed two pamphlets and preached feveral fer3 mons, in which drinking to me. mories was zealously condemned. letters |