The Battle of the Books

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THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS
AND OTHER SHORT PIECES.


BY
JONATHAN SWIFT.

CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:
_LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_.
1886.




INTRODUCTION.


Jonathan Swift was born in 1667, on the 30th of November. His father was
a Jonathan Swift, sixth of the ten sons of the Rev. Thomas Swift, vicar
of Goodrich, near Ross, in Herefordshire, who had married Elizabeth
Dryden, niece to the poet Dryden's grandfather. Jonathan Swift married,
at Leicester, Abigail Erick, or Herrick, who was of the family that had
given to England Robert Herrick, the poet. As their eldest brother,
Godwin, was prospering in Ireland, four other Swifts, Dryden, William,
Jonathan, and Adam, all in turn found their way to Dublin. Jonathan was
admitted an attorney of the King's Inns, Dublin, and was appointed by the
Benchers to the office of Steward of the King's Inns, in January, 1666.
He died in April, 1667, leaving his widow with an infant daughter, Jane,
and an unborn child.

Swift was born in Dublin seven months after his father's death. His
mother after a time returned to her own family, in Leicester, and the
child was added to the household of his uncle, Godwin Swift, who, by his
four wives, became father to ten sons of his own and four daughters.
Godwin Swift sent his nephew to Kilkenny School, where he had William
Congreve among his schoolfellows. In April, 1782, Swift was entered at
Trinity College as pensioner, together with his cousin Thomas, son of his
uncle Thomas. That cousin Thomas afterwards became rector of Puttenham,
in Surrey. Jonathan Swift graduated as B.A. at Dublin, in February,
1686, and remained in Trinity College for another three years. He was
ready to proceed to M.A. when his uncle Godwin became insane. The
troubles of 1689 also caused the closing of the University, and Jonathan
Swift went to Leicester, where mother and son took counsel together as to
future possibilities of life.

The retired statesman, Sir William Temple, at Moor Park, near Farnham, in
Surrey, was in highest esteem with the new King and the leaders of the
Revolution. His father, as Master of the Irish Rolls, had been a friend
of Godwin Swift's, and with his wife Swift's mother could claim
cousinship. After some months, therefore, at Leicester, Jonathan Swift,
aged twenty-two, went to Moor Park, and entered Sir William Temple's
household, doing service with the expectation of advancement through his
influence. The advancement he desired was in the Church. When Swift
went to Moor Park he found in its household a child six or seven years
old, daughter to Mrs. Johnson, who was trusted servant and companion to
Lady Gifford, Sir William Temple's sister. With this little Esther, aged
seven, Swift, aged twenty-two, became a playfellow and helper in her
studies. He broke his English for her into what he called their "little
language," that was part of the same playful kindliness, and passed into
their after-life. In July, 1692, with Sir William Temple's help,
Jonathan Swift commenced M.A. in Oxford, as of Hart Hall. In 1694,
Swift's ambition having been thwarted by an offer of a clerkship, of 120
pounds a year, in the Irish Rolls, he broke from Sir William Temple, took
orders, and obtained, through other influence, in January, 1695, the
small prebendary of Kilroot, in the north of Ireland. He was there for
about a year. Close by, in Belfast, was an old college friend, named
Waring, who had a sister. Swift was captivated by Miss Waring, called
her Varina, and would have become engaged to marry her if she had not
flinched from engagement with a young clergyman whose income was but a
hundred a year.

But Sir William Temple had missed Jonathan Swift from Moor Park.
Differences were forgotten, and Swift, at his wish, went back. This was
in 1696, when his little pupil, Esther Johnson, was fifteen. Swift said
of her, "I knew her from six years old, and had some share in her
education, by directing what books she should read, and perpetually
instructing her in the principles of honour and virtue, from which she
never swerved in any one action or moment of her life. She was sickly
from her childhood until about the age of fifteen; but then grew into
perfect health, and was then looked upon as one of the most beautiful,
graceful, and agreeable young women in London, only a little too fat. Her
hair was blacker than a raven, and every feature of her face in
perfection." This was the Stella of Swift's after-life, the one woman to
whom his whole love was given. But side by side with the slow growth of
his knowledge of all she was for him, was the slow growth of his
conviction that attacks of giddiness and deafness, which first came when
he was twenty, and recurred at times throughout his life, were signs to
be associated with that which he regarded as the curse upon his life. His
end would be like his uncle Godwin's. It was a curse transmissible to
children, but if he desired to keep the influence his genius gave him, he
could not tell the world why he refused to marry. Only to Stella, who
remained unmarried for his sake, and gave her life to him, could all be
known.

Returned to Moor Park, Swift wrote, in 1697, the "Battle of the Books,"
as well as the "Tale of the Tub," with which it was published seven years
afterwards, in 1704. Perrault and others had been battling in France
over the relative merits of Ancient and Modern Writers. The debate had
spread to England. On behalf of the Ancients, stress was laid by Temple
on the letters of Phalaris, tyrant of Agrigentum. Wotton replied to Sir
William for the Moderns. The Hon. Charles Boyle, of Christ Church,
published a new edition of the Epistles of Phalaris, with translation of
the Greek text into Latin. Dr. Bentley, the King's Librarian, published
a "Dissertation on the Epistles of Phalaris," denying their value, and
arguing that Phalaris did not write them. Christ Church replied through
Charles Boyle, with "Dr. Bentley's Dissertation on the Epistles of
Phalaris examined." Swift entered into the war with a light heart, and
matched the Ancients in defending them for the amusement of his patron.
His incidental argument between the Spider and the Bee has provided a
catch-phrase, "Sweetness and Light," to a combatant of later times.

Sir William Temple died on the 27th of January, 1699. Swift then became
chaplain to Lord Berkeley in Dublin Castle, and it was as a little
surprise to Lady Berkeley, who liked him to read to her Robert Boyle's
"Meditations," that Swift wrote the "Meditation on a Broomstick." In
February, 1700, he obtained from Lord Berkeley the vicarage of Laracor
with the living of Rathbeggan, also in the diocese of Meath. In the
beginning of 1701 Esther Johnson, to whom Sir William Temple had
bequeathed a leasehold farm in Wicklow, came with an elder friend, Miss
Dingley, and settled in Laracor to be near Swift. During one of the
visits to London, made from Laracor, Swift attacked the false pretensions
of astrologers by that prediction of the death of Mr. Partridge, a
prophetic almanac maker, of which he described the Accomplishment so
clearly that Partridge had much ado to get credit for being alive.

The lines addressed to Stella speak for themselves. "Cadenus and
Vanessa" was meant as polite and courteous admonition to Miss Hester Van
Homrigh, a young lady in whom green-sickness seems to have produced
devotion to Swift in forms that embarrassed him, and with which he did
not well know how to deal.

H. M.




THE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER.


This discourse, as it is unquestionably of the same author, so it seems
to have been written about the same time, with "The Tale of a Tub;" I
mean the year 1697, when the famous dispute was on foot about ancient and
modern learning. The controversy took its rise from an essay of Sir
William Temple's upon that subject; which was answered by W. Wotton,
B.D., with an appendix by Dr. Bentley, endeavouring to destroy the credit
of AEsop and Phalaris for authors, whom Sir William Temple had, in the
essay before mentioned, highly commended. In that appendix the doctor
falls hard upon a new edition of Phalaris, put out by the Honourable
Charles Boyle, now Earl of Orrery, to which Mr. Boyle replied at large
with great learning and wit; and the Doctor voluminously rejoined. In
this dispute the town highly resented to see a person of Sir William
Temple's character and merits roughly used by the two reverend gentlemen
aforesaid, and without any manner of provocation. At length, there
appearing no end of the quarrel, our author tells us that the BOOKS in
St. James's Library, looking upon themselves as parties principally
concerned, took up the controversy, and came to a decisive battle; but
the manuscript, by the injury of fortune or weather, being in several
places imperfect, we cannot learn to which side the victory fell.

I must warn the reader to beware of applying to persons what is here
meant only of books, in the most literal sense. So, when Virgil is
mentioned, we are not to understand the person of a famous poet called by
that name; but only certain sheets of paper bound up in leather,
containing in print the works of the said poet: and so of the rest.




THE PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR.


Satire is a sort of glass wherein beholders do generally discover
everybody's face but their own; which is the chief reason for that kind
reception it meets with in the world, and that so very few are offended
with it. But, if it should happen otherwise, the danger is not great;
and I have learned from long experience never to apprehend mischief from
those understandings I have been able to provoke: for anger and fury,
though they add strength to the sinews of the body, yet are found to
relax those of the mind, and to render all its efforts feeble and
impotent.

There is a brain that will endure but one scumming; let the owner gather
it with discretion, and manage his little stock with husbandry; but, of
all things, let him beware of bringing it under the lash of his betters,
because that will make it all bubble up into impertinence, and he will
find no new supply. Wit without knowledge being a sort of cream, which
gathers in a night to the top, and by a skilful hand may be soon whipped
into froth; but once scummed away, what appears underneath will be fit
for nothing but to be thrown to the hogs.




A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE FOUGHT LAST FRIDAY BETWEEN THE
ANCIENT AND THE MODERN BOOKS IN SAINT JAMES'S LIBRARY.


Whoever examines, with due circumspection, into the annual records of
time, will find it remarked that War is the child of Pride, and Pride the
daughter of Riches:--the former of which assertions may be soon granted,
but one cannot so easily subscribe to the latter; for Pride is nearly
related to Beggary and Want, either by father or mother, and sometimes by
both: and, to speak naturally, it very seldom happens among men to fall
out when all have enough; invasions usually travelling from north to
south, that is to say, from poverty to plenty. The most ancient and
natural grounds of quarrels are lust and avarice; which, though we may
allow to be brethren, or collateral branches of pride, are certainly the
issues of want. For, to speak in the phrase of writers upon politics, we
may observe in the republic of dogs, which in its original seems to be an
institution of the many, that the whole state is ever in the profoundest
peace after a full meal; and that civil broils arise among them when it
happens for one great bone to be seized on by some leading dog, who
either divides it among the few, and then it falls to an oligarchy, or
keeps it to himself, and then it runs up to a tyranny. The same
reasoning also holds place among them in those dissensions we behold upon
a turgescency in any of their females. For the right of possession lying
in common (it being impossible to establish a property in so delicate a
case), jealousies and suspicions do so abound, that the whole
commonwealth of that street is reduced to a manifest state of war, of
every citizen against every citizen, till some one of more courage,
conduct, or fortune than the rest seizes and enjoys the prize: upon which
naturally arises plenty of heart-burning, and envy, and snarling against
the happy dog. Again, if we look upon any of these republics engaged in
a foreign war, either of invasion or defence, we shall find the same
reasoning will serve as to the grounds and occasions of each; and that
poverty or want, in some degree or other (whether real or in opinion,
which makes no alteration in the case), has a great share, as well as
pride, on the part of the aggressor.

Now whoever will please to take this scheme, and either reduce or adapt
it to an intellectual state or commonwealth of learning, will soon
discover the first ground of disagreement between the two great parties
at this time in arms, and may form just conclusions upon the merits of
either cause. But the issue or events of this war are not so easy to
conjecture at; for the present quarrel is so inflamed by the warm heads
of either faction, and the pretensions somewhere or other so exorbitant,
as not to admit the least overtures of accommodation. This quarrel first
began, as I have heard it affirmed by an old dweller in the
neighbourhood, about a small spot of ground, lying and being upon one of
the two tops of the hill Parnassus; the highest and largest of which had,
it seems, been time out of mind in quiet possession of certain tenants,
called the Ancients; and the other was held by the Moderns. But these
disliking their present station, sent certain ambassadors to the
Ancients, complaining of a great nuisance; how the height of that part of
Parnassus quite spoiled the prospect of theirs, especially towards the
east; and therefore, to avoid a war, offered them the choice of this
alternative, either that the Ancients would please to remove themselves
and their effects down to the lower summit, which the Moderns would
graciously surrender to them, and advance into their place; or else the
said Ancients will give leave to the Moderns to come with shovels and
mattocks, and level the said hill as low as they shall think it
convenient. To which the Ancients made answer, how little they expected
such a message as this from a colony whom they had admitted, out of their
own free grace, to so near a neighbourhood. That, as to their own seat,
they were aborigines of it, and therefore to talk with them of a removal
or surrender was a language they did not understand. That if the height
of the hill on their side shortened the prospect of the Moderns, it was a
disadvantage they could not help; but desired them to consider whether
that injury (if it be any) were not largely recompensed by the shade and
shelter it afforded them. That as to the levelling or digging down, it
was either folly or ignorance to propose it if they did or did not know
how that side of the hill was an entire rock, which would break their
tools and hearts, without any damage to itself. That they would
therefore advise the Moderns rather to raise their own side of the hill
than dream of pulling down that of the Ancients; to the former of which
they would not only give licence, but also largely contribute. All this
was rejected by the Moderns with much indignation, who still insisted
upon one of the two expedients; and so this difference broke out into a
long and obstinate war, maintained on the one part by resolution, and by
the courage of certain leaders and allies; but, on the other, by the
greatness of their number, upon all defeats affording continual recruits.
In this quarrel whole rivulets of ink have been exhausted, and the
virulence of both parties enormously augmented. Now, it must be here
understood, that ink is the great missive weapon in all battles of the
learned, which, conveyed through a sort of engine called a quill,
infinite numbers of these are darted at the enemy by the valiant on each
side, with equal skill and violence, as if it were an engagement of
porcupines. This malignant liquor was compounded, by the engineer who
invented it, of two ingredients, which are, gall and copperas; by its
bitterness and venom to suit, in some degree, as well as to foment, the
genius of the combatants. And as the Grecians, after an engagement, when
they could not agree about the victory, were wont to set up trophies on
both sides, the beaten party being content to be at the same expense, to
keep itself in countenance (a laudable and ancient custom, happily
revived of late in the art of war), so the learned, after a sharp and
bloody dispute, do, on both sides, hang out their trophies too, whichever
comes by the worst. These trophies have largely inscribed on them the
merits of the cause; a full impartial account of such a Battle, and how
the victory fell clearly to the party that set them up. They are known
to the world under several names; as disputes, arguments, rejoinders,
brief considerations, answers, replies, remarks, reflections, objections,
confutations. For a very few days they are fixed up all in public
places, either by themselves or their representatives, for passengers to
gaze at; whence the chiefest and largest are removed to certain magazines
they call libraries, there to remain in a quarter purposely assigned
them, and thenceforth begin to be called books of controversy.

In these books is wonderfully instilled and preserved the spirit of each
warrior while he is alive; and after his death his soul transmigrates
thither to inform them. This, at least, is the more common opinion; but
I believe it is with libraries as with other cemeteries, where some
philosophers affirm that a certain spirit, which they call _brutum
hominis_, hovers over the monument, till the body is corrupted and turns
to dust or to worms, but then vanishes or dissolves; so, we may say, a
restless spirit haunts over every book, till dust or worms have seized
upon it--which to some may happen in a few days, but to others later--and
therefore, books of controversy being, of all others, haunted by the most
disorderly spirits, have always been confined in a separate lodge from
the rest, and for fear of a mutual violence against each other, it was
thought prudent by our ancestors to bind them to the peace with strong
iron chains. Of which invention the original occasion was this: When the
works of Scotus first came out, they were carried to a certain library,
and had lodgings appointed them; but this author was no sooner settled
than he went to visit his master Aristotle, and there both concerted
together to seize Plato by main force, and turn him out from his ancient
station among the divines, where he had peaceably dwelt near eight
hundred years. The attempt succeeded, and the two usurpers have reigned
ever since in his stead; but, to maintain quiet for the future, it was
decreed that all polemics of the larger size should be hold fast with a
chain.

By this expedient, the public peace of libraries might certainly have
been preserved if a new species of controversial books had not arisen of
late years, instinct with a more malignant spirit, from the war above
mentioned between the learned about the higher summit of Parnassus.

When these books were first admitted into the public libraries, I
remember to have said, upon occasion, to several persons concerned, how I
was sure they would create broils wherever they came, unless a world of
care were taken; and therefore I advised that the champions of each side
should be coupled together, or otherwise mixed, that, like the blending
of contrary poisons, their malignity might be employed among themselves.
And it seems I was neither an ill prophet nor an ill counsellor; for it
was nothing else but the neglect of this caution which gave occasion to
the terrible fight that happened on Friday last between the Ancient and
Modern Books in the King's library. Now, because the talk of this battle
is so fresh in everybody's mouth, and the expectation of the town so
great to be informed in the particulars, I, being possessed of all
qualifications requisite in an historian, and retained by neither party,
have resolved to comply with the urgent importunity of my friends, by
writing down a full impartial account thereof.

The guardian of the regal library, a person of great valour, but chiefly
renowned for his humanity, had been a fierce champion for the Moderns,
and, in an engagement upon Parnassus, had vowed with his own hands to
knock down two of the ancient chiefs who guarded a small pass on the
superior rock, but, endeavouring to climb up, was cruelly obstructed by
his own unhappy weight and tendency towards his centre, a quality to
which those of the Modern party are extremely subject; for, being light-
headed, they have, in speculation, a wonderful agility, and conceive
nothing too high for them to mount, but, in reducing to practice,
discover a mighty pressure about their posteriors and their heels. Having
thus failed in his design, the disappointed champion bore a cruel rancour
to the Ancients, which he resolved to gratify by showing all marks of his
favour to the books of their adversaries, and lodging them in the fairest
apartments; when, at the same time, whatever book had the boldness to own
itself for an advocate of the Ancients was buried alive in some obscure
corner, and threatened, upon the least displeasure, to be turned out of
doors. Besides, it so happened that about this time there was a strange
confusion of place among all the books in the library, for which several
reasons were assigned. Some imputed it to a great heap of learned dust,
which a perverse wind blew off from a shelf of Moderns into the keeper's
eyes. Others affirmed he had a humour to pick the worms out of the
schoolmen, and swallow them fresh and fasting, whereof some fell upon his
spleen, and some climbed up into his head, to the great perturbation of
both. And lastly, others maintained that, by walking much in the dark
about the library, he had quite lost the situation of it out of his head;
and therefore, in replacing his books, he was apt to mistake and clap
Descartes next to Aristotle, poor Plato had got between Hobbes and the
Seven Wise Masters, and Virgil was hemmed in with Dryden on one side and
Wither on the other.

Meanwhile, those books that were advocates for the Moderns, chose out one
from among them to make a progress through the whole library, examine the
number and strength of their party, and concert their affairs. This
messenger performed all things very industriously, and brought back with
him a list of their forces, in all, fifty thousand, consisting chiefly of
light-horse, heavy-armed foot, and mercenaries; whereof the foot were in
general but sorrily armed and worse clad; their horses large, but
extremely out of case and heart; however, some few, by trading among the
Ancients, had furnished themselves tolerably enough.

While things were in this ferment, discord grew extremely high; hot words
passed on both sides, and ill blood was plentifully bred. Here a
solitary Ancient, squeezed up among a whole shelf of Moderns, offered
fairly to dispute the case, and to prove by manifest reason that the
priority was due to them from long possession, and in regard of their
prudence, antiquity, and, above all, their great merits toward the
Moderns. But these denied the premises, and seemed very much to wonder
how the Ancients could pretend to insist upon their antiquity, when it
was so plain (if they went to that) that the Moderns were much the more
ancient of the two. As for any obligations they owed to the Ancients,
they renounced them all. "It is true," said they, "we are informed some
few of our party have been so mean as to borrow their subsistence from
you, but the rest, infinitely the greater number (and especially we
French and English), were so far from stooping to so base an example,
that there never passed, till this very hour, six words between us. For
our horses were of our own breeding, our arms of our own forging, and our
clothes of our own cutting out and sewing." Plato was by chance up on
the next shelf, and observing those that spoke to be in the ragged plight
mentioned a while ago, their jades lean and foundered, their weapons of
rotten wood, their armour rusty, and nothing but rags underneath, he
laughed loud, and in his pleasant way swore, by ---, he believed them.

Now, the Moderns had not proceeded in their late negotiation with secrecy
enough to escape the notice of the enemy. For those advocates who had
begun the quarrel, by setting first on foot the dispute of precedency,
talked so loud of coming to a battle, that Sir William Temple happened to
overhear them, and gave immediate intelligence to the Ancients, who
thereupon drew up their scattered troops together, resolving to act upon
the defensive; upon which, several of the Moderns fled over to their
party, and among the rest Temple himself. This Temple, having been
educated and long conversed among the Ancients, was, of all the Moderns,
their greatest favourite, and became their greatest champion.