a state of outrageous frenzy, aggravated by severe bodily suffering, the illustrious Dean of St Patrick's

This hope, however, was but of short duration; for a few days afterwards he sunk into a state of total insensibility, slept much, and could not, without great difficulty, be prevailed on to walk across the room. This was the effect of another bodily disease, his brain being loaded with water. Mr Stevens, an ingenious clergyman of his chapter, pronounced this to be the case during his illness, and upon opening his head it appeared that he was not mistaken; but though he often entreated the Dean's friends and physicians that his scull might be trepanned and the water discharged, no regard was paid to his opinion or advice.

"After the Dean had continued silent a whole year in this helpless state of idiocy, his housekeeper went into his room on the 30th of November in the morning, telling him that it was his birthday, and that bonfires and illuminations were preparing to celebrate it as usual; to this he immediately replied -'It is all folly, they had better let it alone.'

"He would often attempt to speak his mind, but could not recollect words to express his meaning; upon which he would shrug up his shoulders, shake his head, and sigh heartily. Among all kinds of smells, none offended him so much as the snuff of a candle. It happened that a young girl, the daughter of his housekeeper's relation, blew out a candle in his chamber; at which he knit his brows, looked angry, and said, You are a little dirty slut!' He spoke no more of it; but seemed displeased with her the whole evening.

"Some other instances of short intervals of sensibility and reason, after his madness had ended in stupor, seemed to prove that his disorder, whatever it was, had not destroyed, but only suspended the powers of his mind.

"He was sometimes visited by Mr Deane Swift, a relation, and about Christmas, 1743, he seemed desirous to speak to him. Mr Swift then told him he came to dine with him; and Mrs Ridgeway, the housekeeper, immediately said, Won't you give Mr Swift a glass of wine, sir?' To this he made no answer, but showed he understood the question, by shrugging up his shoulders, as he had been used to do, when he had a mind a friend should spend the evening with him, and which was as much as to say you will ruin me in wine.' Soon after

sunk into the situation of a helpless changeling.' In the course of about three years, he is only known to have spoken once or twice. At length, when this awful moral lesson had subsisted from 1743, until the 19th October, 1745, it pleased God to release the subject of these Memoirs from this calamitous situation. He died upon that day without a single pang, so gently, indeed, that his attendants were scarce aware of the moment of his dissolution.

It was then that the gratitude of the Irish showed itself in the full glow of national enthusiasm. The interval was forgotten, during which their great

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 sigh, and was afterwards silent. A few months after this, upon his housekeeper's removing a knife, as he was going to catch at it, he shrugged up his shoulders, and said, 'I am what I am;' and, in about six minutes, repeated the same words two or three times.

"In the year 1744, he now and then called his servant by his name, and once attempted to speak to him, but not being able to express his meaning, he showed signs of much uneasiness, and at last said, 'I am a fool.' Once afterwards, as his servant was taking away his watch, he said, 'Bring it here;' and when the same servant was breaking a hard large coal, he said, 'That is a stone, you blockhead.'

"From this time he was perfectly silent, till the latter end of October, 1745; and then died without the least pang or convulsion, in the seventy-eighth year of his age.”

1 The curiosity of strangers sometimes led them to see this extraordinary man in this state of living death. The father of the late Lord Kinedder, one of the Editor's most intimate friends, was of the number. He was told that the servants privately took money for gratifying the curiosity of strangers, but declined to have recourse to that mode of gratifying his curiosity. By means of a clergyman, (Dr Lyons, probably,) he saw the Dean, who was at that time totally unconscious of all that passed around him, a living wreck of humanity.

patriot had been dead to the world, and he was wept and mourned, as if he had been called away in the full career of his public services. Young and old of all ranks surrounded the house, to pay the last tribute of sorrow and of affection. Locks of his hair were so eagerly sought after, that Mr Sheridan happily applies to the enthusiasm of the citizens of Dublin, the lines of Shakspeare,

"Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,

And dying mention it within their wills,
Bequeathing it as a rich legacy

Unto their issue."1

The remains of Dean Swift were interred, agreeably to his directions, with privacy, in the great

1["A person who resides in my family is one of the few persons, perhaps the only one, now living, who witnessed this melancholy spectacle. She remembers him as well as if it was but yesterday; he was laid out in his own hall, and great crowds went to see him. His coffin was open; he had on his head neither cap or wig; there was not much hair on the front or very top, but it was long and thick behind, very white, and was like flax on the pillow.-Mrs Barnard, his nurse-tender, sat at his head, but, having occasion to leave the room for a short time, some person cut a lock of hair from his head, which she missed upon her return; and after that day no person was admitted to see him.""-MONCK MASON.]

It appears from the following animated expostulation, addressed by Mrs Whiteway to one of the executors, that their purpose was to have interpreted the word privacy so strictly as to infer a sordid and unbecoming obscurity. It would appear that the remonstrances of his friend and relation were attended to. The original paper is amongst those belonging to Mr Swift :

Mrs WHITEWAY to some one of Dr SwIFT'S Executors.

SIR,

1745.

The indignation which the town have expressed at the

aisle of St Patrick's Cathedral, where an inscription, composed by himself, records his exertions for liberty, and his detestation of oppression.

HIC DEPOSITUM EST CORPUS

JONATHAN SWIFT, S. T. P.

HUJUS ECCLESIÆ CATHEDRALIS.

DECANI:

UBI SÆVA INDIGNATIO

ULTERIUS COR LACERARE NEQUIT.

ABI VIATOR,

ET IMITARE, SI POTERIS,

STRENUUM PRO VIRILI LIBERTATIS VINDICEM.

OBIIT ANNO (1745):

MENSIS (OCTOBRIS) DIE (19)

ÆTATIS ANNO (78).

I

manner of burying their Patriot, is a proof his memory is dear as his life was once so to them. I am told, and I wish my authority may not be true, that Dr Swift is to be carried out of his back-door at one in the morning by four porters into the church, attended only by two clergymen, with the circumstance of the respect paid to them, of giving each a scarf. know his desire was to be buried as privately as possible; but, were the same persons to be executors to a duke, and a man who had left but five pounds behind him, would the words be construed in the same literal sense? and I appeal to yourself, whether ever you knew a gentleman, whose corpse was not in danger of being arrested for debt, treated in such a manner— an executed criminal, to whom the law doth not allow Christian burial, could only be used thus, by some slight acquaintance. Surely to hang the room Dr Swift lies in with black, to give him a hearse, and a few mourning coaches, would be judged a funeral sufficiently private for so great a man; and that he himself thought decency requisite at a funeral, may be

known by what he did for his honest, trusty servant, Alexander M'Gee. If this expense be thought too much to be taken from the noble charity he hath bequeathed, I make the offer of doing it, and desire it may be taken out of my legacy as the last respect I can pay to my great and worthy friend.

If this favour be denied me, I shall let whoever mentions this affair in my hearing, know the offer I have made.

I am, Sir,

Your most obedient and most humble servant,
MARTHA WHITEWAY.

October 22, 1745, ten in the morning.