P.S.-I am just now told, a very curious lady* intends to write to you, to pump you about some poems said to be yours. Pray tell her, that you have not answered me on the same questions, and that I shall take it as a thing never to be forgiven from you, if you tell another what you have concealed from me.

TO THE DUKE OF DORSET.

January, 1733-4.

MY LORD, It has been my great misfortune, that, since your grace's return to this kingdom, I have not been able to attend you, as my duty and gratitude for your favours, as well as the honour of having been so many years known to you, obliged me to do. I have been pursued by two old disorders, a giddiness and deafness, which used to leave me in three or four weeks, but now have continued four months. Thus I am put under a necessity to write what I would rather have chosen to say in your grace's presence.

On Monday last week, towards evening, there came to the deanery one Mr. Bettesworth;t who, being told by the servants that I was gone to a friend's house, went thither to inquire for me, and

* Probably M. Blount, concerning the offensive verses, "The Lady's Dressing-room," "Strephon and Chloe," &c.—BOWLES. + Serjeant Bettesworth, of whose controversy with the Dean, which ended ridiculously and unhappily for himself, some account is given in the author's life, and in Dr. Hawkesworth's note in the next letter.

The Rev. Mr. Worrall's, where the Dean often dined.

was admitted into the street parlour. I left my company in the backroom, and went to him. He began with asking me, "Whether I were the author of certain verses, wherein he was reflected on." The singularity of the man, in his countenance, manner, action, style, and tone of voice, made me call to mind that I had once seen him, about two or three years ago, at Mr. Ludlow's country-house. But I could not recollect his name; and of what calling he might be I had never heard. I therefore desired to know who and what he was; said, "I had heard of some such verses, but knew no more." He then signified to me, "That he was a serjeant at law, and a member of parliament." After which, he repeated the lines that concerned him with great emphasis; said, "I was mistaken in one thing; for he assured me he was no booby; but owned himself to be a coxcomb." However, that being a point of controversy wherein I had no concern, I let it drop. As to the verses, he insisted, "That by his taste, and skill in poetry, he was as sure I writ them, as if he had seen them fall from my pen." But I found the chief weight of his argument lay upon two words that rhymed to his name, which he knew could come from none but me.* He then told me, "That, since I would not own the verses, and that since he could not get satisfaction by any course of law, he would get it by his pen, and shew the world what a man I was." When he began to grow over-warm and eloquent, I called in the gentleman of the house, from the room adjoining; and the serjeant, going on with less turbulence, went away. He had a footman in the hall during all his talk, who was to have

* The offensive couplet was introduced by way of simile :

"Thus at the bar, the booby Bettesworth,

Though half a crown o'erpays his sweat's worth," &c.

:

opened the door for one or more fellows, as he has since reported; and likewise, that he had a sharp knife in his pocket, ready to stab or maim me. But the master and mistress of the house, who knew his character, and could hear every word from the room they were in, had prepared a sufficient defence in such a case, as they afterward told me. He has since related, to five hundred persons of all ranks, about five hundred falsehoods of this conversation, of my fears and his own brutalities, against all probability as well as fact; and some of them, as I have been assured, even in the presence of your grace. His meanings and his movements were indeed peevish enough, but his words were not. He threatened me with nothing but his pen, yet owned he had no pretence to wit. And indeed I am heartily glad, for his own sake, that he proceeded no farther; for, the least uproar would have called his nearest neighbours, first to my assistance, and next, to the manifest danger of his life; and I would not willingly have even a dog killed upon my account. Ever since, he has amused himself with declaring, in all companies, especially before bishops, and lords, and members of parliament, his resolutions for vengeance, and the several manners by which he will put it in execution.

It is only to the advice of some judicious friends that your grace owes the trouble of this letter; for, though I may be dispirited enough by sickness and years, yet I have little reason to apprehend any danger from that man; and those who seem to have most regard for my safety, are no more apprehensive than myself, especially such as best know his character; for, his very enemies, and even his ridiculers, who are, of the two, by far the greater number, allow him to be a peaceable man in all things, except his words, his rhetorical actions, his

looks, and his hatred to the clergy; which, however, are all known, by abundance of experience, to be perfectly harmless; and particularly as to the clergy. I do not doubt but, if he will be so good to continue stedfast in his principles and practices, he may at proper junctures contribute very much to the honour and interests of that reverend body, as well as employ and improve the wit of many young gentlemen in the city, the university, and the rest of the kingdom.

What I have said to your grace is only meant as a poor endeavour to preserve myself in your good opinion, and in the continuance of your favour.

I am, with the highest respect, &c.

JON. SWIFT.

FROM LADY BETTY GERMAIN.

March 2, 1733-4.

I AM extreme glad to hear you are got well again; and I do assure you it was no point of ceremony made me forbear writing, but the downright fear of being troublesome. If you have got off your deafness, that is a happiness I doubt poor Lady Suffolk will never have for she does not mend, if she does not grow rather worse. But we ladies are famous for straining our voices upon the bad occasion of anger; and sure then it is hard, if it is not more agreeable to do it for the sake of friendship. By the histories I hear from Ireland, Bettesworth, in the midst of your illness, did not think your pen lay idle;

*

* About this time an attempt was made to repeal the Test Act in Ireland; and the Dissenters, on this occasion, affected to call VOL. XVIII.

M

but this good you had from it, that such a troublesome fellow made your friends and neighbours shew they could exert themselves for your sake. Mrs. Floyd has passed this winter rather better than the last; but cold weather is a great enemy of hers; and when you see her, I fear you will find, that though the goodness of the "composition "* will always hold, yet so many winters have taken the beauty of it entirely off. It grows now near the time, that I have hopes you will soon part with my duke and duchess. I always used to be her doctor; I wish you would allow me to be yours, and take my advice, and try how the change of air would mend your constitution; but I fear you will not. However, God bless you; and adieu.

themselves "Brother Protestants, and Fellow Christians," with the members of the established church. This the Dean made the subject of a short copy of verses, in which there is a passage, that so provoked one Bettesworth, a lawyer, and member of the Irish parliament, that he swore to revenge himself, either by maiming or murdering the author; and for this purpose, he engaged his footman, with two ruffians, to secure the Dean wherever he could be found. As soon as this oath and attempt of Bettesworth were known, thirty of the nobility and gentry of St. Patrick's waited upon the Dean in form; and presented a paper, subscribed with their names, in which they solemnly engaged, in behalf of themselves and the rest of the liberty, to defend his person and fortune, as the friend and benefactor of his country.-H.

"And call'd the happy composition Floyd."

!