of the palace, and I was privately assured, that the Empress, conceiving
the greatest Abhorrence of what I had done, removed to the most distant
Side of the Court, firmly resolved that those buildings should never be
repaired for her Use; and, in the Presence of her chief Confidents,
could not forbear vowing Revenge.
According to Professor G. M. Trevelyan (ENGLAND UNDER QUEEN ANNE), part
of the reason for Swift's failure to get preferment was that the Queen
was scandalized by A TALE OF A TUB--a pamphlet in which Swift probably
felt that he had done a great service to the English Crown, since it
scarifies the Dissenters and still more the Catholics while leaving the
Established Church alone. In any case no one would deny that GULLIVER'S
TRAVELS is a rancorous as well as a pessimistic book, and that especially
in Parts I and III it often descends into political partisanship of a
narrow kind. Pettiness and magnanimity, republicanism and
authoritarianism, love of reason and lack of curiosity, are all mixed up
in it. The hatred of the human body with which Swift is especially
associated is only dominant in Part IV, but somehow this new
preoccupation does not come as a surprise. One feels that all these
adventures, and all these changes of mood, could have happened to the
same person, and the inter-connexion between Swift's political loyalties
and his ultimate despair is one of the most interesting features of the
book.
Politically, Swift was one of those people who are driven into a sort of
perverse Toryism by the follies of the progressive party of the moment.
Part I of GULLIVER'S TRAVELS, ostensibly a satire on human greatness, can
be seen, if one looks a little deeper, to be simply an attack on England,
on the dominant Whig Party, and on the war with France, which--however
bad the motives of the Allies may have been--did save Europe from being
tyrannized over by a single reactionary power. Swift was not a Jacobite
nor strictly speaking a Tory, and his declared aim in the war was merely
a moderate peace treaty and not the outright defeat of England.
Nevertheless there is a tinge of quislingism in his attitude, which
comes out in the ending of Part I and slightly interferes with the
allegory. When Gulliver flees from Lilliput (England) to Blefuscu
(France) the assumption that a human being six inches high is inherently
contemptible seems to be dropped. Whereas the people of Lilliput have
behaved towards Gulliver with the utmost treachery and meanness, those of
Blefuscu behave generously and straightforwardly, and indeed this section
of the book ends on a different note from the all-round disillusionment
of the earlier chapters. Evidently Swift's animus is, in the first place,
against ENGLAND. It is "your Natives" (i.e. Gulliver's fellow-countrymen)
whom the King of Brobdingnag considers to be "the most pernicious Race
of little odious vermin that Nature ever suffered to crawl upon the
surface of the Earth", and the long passage at the end, denouncing
colonization and foreign conquest, is plainly aimed at England, although
the contrary is elaborately stated. The Dutch, England's allies and
target of one of Swift's most famous pamphlets, are also more or less
wantonly attacked in Part III. There is even what sounds like a personal
note in the passage in which Gulliver records his satisfaction that the
various countries he has discovered cannot be made colonies of the
British Crown:
The HOUYHNHNMS, indeed, appear not to be so well prepared for War, a
Science to which they are perfect Strangers, and especially against
missive Weapons. However, supposing myself to be a Minister of State, I
could never give my advice for invading them...Imagine twenty thousand
of them breaking into the midst of an EUROPEAN army, confounding the
Ranks, overturning the Carriages, battering the Warriors' Faces into
Mummy, by terrible Yerks from their hinder hoofs...
Considering that Swift does not waste words, that phrase, "battering the
warriors' faces into mummy", probably indicates a secret wish to see the
invincible armies of the Duke of Marlborough treated in a like manner.
There are similar touches elsewhere. Even the country mentioned in Part
III, where "the Bulk of the People consist, in a Manner, wholly of
Discoverers, Witnesses, Informers, Accusers, Prosecutors, Evidences,
Swearers, together with their several subservient and subaltern
Instruments, all under the Colours, the Conduct, and Pay of Ministers of
State", is called Langdon, which is within one letter of being an anagram
of England. (As the early editions of the book contain misprints, it may
perhaps have been intended as a complete anagram.) Swift's PHYSICAL
repulsion from humanity is certainly real enough, but one has the feeling
that his debunking of human grandeur, his diatribes against lords,
politicians, court favourites, etc., has mainly a local application and
springs from the fact that he belonged to the unsuccessful party. He
denounces injustice and oppression, but he gives no evidence of liking
democracy. In spite of his enormously greater powers, his implied
position is very similar to that of the innumerable silly-clever
Conservatives of our own day--people like Sir Alan Herbert, Professor G.
M. Young, Lord Eiton, the Tory Reform Committee or the long line of
Catholic apologists from W. H. Mallock onwards: people who specialize in
cracking neat jokes at the expense of whatever is "modern" and
"progressive", and whose opinions are often all the more extreme because
they know that they cannot influence the actual drift of events. After
all, such a pamphlet as AN ARGUMENT TO PROVE THAT THE ABOLISHING OF
CHRISTIANITY, etc., is very like "Timothy Shy" having a bit of clean fun
with the Brains Trust, or Father Ronald Knox exposing the errors
of Bertrand Russell. And the ease with which Swift has been forgiven--and
forgiven, sometimes, by devout believers--for the blasphemies of A TALE
OF A TUB demonstrates clearly enough the feebleness of religious
sentiments as compared with political ones.
However, the reactionary cast of Swift's mind does not show itself
chiefly in his political affiliations. The important thing is his
attitude towards Science, and, more broadly, towards intellectual
curiosity. The famous Academy of Lagado, described in Part III of
GULLIVER'S TRAVELS, is no doubt a justified satire on most of the
so-called scientists of Swift's own day. Significantly, the people at
work in it are described as "Projectors", that is, people not engaged in
disinterested research but merely on the look-out for gadgets which will
save labour and bring in money. But there is no sign--indeed, all
through the book there are many signs to the contrary--that "pure"
science would have struck Swift as a worth-while activity. The more
serious kind of scientist has already had a kick in the pants in Part II,
when the "Scholars" patronized by the King of Brobdingnag try to account
for Gulliver's small stature:
After much Debate, they concluded unanimously that I was only RELP
LUM
SCALCATH, which is interpreted literally, LUSUS NATURAE, a Determination
exactly agreeable to the modern philosophy of EUROPE, whose Professors,
disdaining the old Evasion of OCCULT CAUSES, whereby the followers of
ARISTOTLE endeavoured in vain to disguise their Ignorance, have invented
this wonderful solution of All Difficulties, to the unspeakable
Advancement of human Knowledge.
If this stood by itself one might assume that Swift is merely the enemy
of SHAM science. In a number of places, however, he goes out of his way
to proclaim the uselessness of all learning or speculation not directed
towards some practical end:
The learning of (the Brobdingnaglans) is very defective, consisting only
in Morality, History, Poetry, and Mathematics, wherein they must be
allowed to excel. But, the last of these is wholly applied to what may be
useful in Life, to the improvement of Agriculture, and all mechanical
Arts so that among us it would be little esteemed. And as to Ideas,
Entities, Abstractions, and Transcen-dentals, I could never drive the
least Conception into their Heads.
The Houyhnhnms, Swift's ideal beings, are backward even in a mechanical
sense. They are unacquainted with metals, have never heard of boats, do
not, properly speaking, practise agriculture (we are told that the oats
which they live upon "grow naturally"), and appear not to have invented
wheels. [Note, below] They have no alphabet, and evidently have not much
curiosity about the physical world. They do not believe that any
inhabited country exists beside their own, and though they understand
the motions of the sun and moon, and the nature of eclipses, "this is
the utmost progress of their ASTRONOMY". By contrast, the philosophers
of the flying island of Laputa are so continuously absorbed in
mathematical speculations that before speaking to them one has to
attract their attention by napping them on the ear with a bladder. They
have catalogued ten thousand fixed stars, have settled the periods of
ninety-three comets, and have discovered, in advance of the astronomers
of Europe, that Mars has two moons--all of which information Swift
evidently regards as ridiculous, useless and uninteresting. As one might
expect, he believes that the scientist's place, if he has a place, is in
the laboratory, and that scientific knowledge has no bearing on
political matters:
[Note: Houyhnhnms too old to walk are described as being carried on
"sledges" or in "a kind of vehicle, drawn like a sledge". Presumably these
had no wheels. (Author's note.)]
What I...thought altogether unaccountable, was the strong Disposition
I observed in them towards News and Politics, perpetually enquiring into
Public Affairs, giving their judgements in Matters of State, and
passionately disputing every inch of a Party Opinion. I have, indeed,
observed the same Disposition among most of the Mathematicians I have
known in EUROPE, though I could never discover the least Analogy between
the two Sciences; unless those people suppose, that, because the smallest
Circle hath as many Degrees as the largest, therefore the Regulation and
Management of the World require no more Abilities, than the Handling and
Turning of a Globe.
Is there not something familiar in that phrase "I could never discover
the least analogy between the two sciences"? It has precisely the note of
the popular Catholic apologists who profess to be astonished when a
scientist utters an opinion on such questions as the existence of God or
the immortality of the soul. The scientist, we are told, is an expert
only in one restricted field: why should his opinions be of value in any
other? The implication is that theology is just as much an exact science
as, for instance, chemistry, and that the priest is also an expert whose
conclusions on certain subjects must be accepted. Swift in effect makes
the same claim for the politician, but he goes one better in that he will
not allow the scientist--either the "pure" scientist or the ad hoc
investigator--to be a useful person in his own line. Even if he had not
written Part III of GULLIVER'S TRAVELS, one could infer from the rest of
the book that, like Tolstoy and like Blake, he hates the very idea of
studying the processes of Nature. The "Reason" which he so admires in the
Houyhnhnms does not primarily mean the power of drawing logical
inferences from observed facts. Although he never defines it, it appears
in most contexts to mean either common sense--i.e. acceptance of the
obvious and contempt for quibbles and abstractions--or absence of
passion and superstition. In general he assumes that we know all that we
need to know already, and merely use our knowledge incorrectly. Medicine,
for instance, is a useless science, because if we lived in a more natural
way, there would be no diseases. Swift, however, is not a simple-lifer or
an admirer of the Noble Savage. He is in favour of civilization and the
arts of civilization. Not only does he see the value of good manners,
good conversation, and even learning of a literary and historical kind,
he also sees that agriculture, navigation and architecture need to be
studied and could with advantages be improved. But his implied aim is a
static, incurious civilization--the world of his own day, a little
cleaner, a little saner, with no radical change and no poking into the
unknowable. More than one would expect in anyone so free from accepted
fallacies, he reveres the past, especially classical antiquity, and
believes that modern man has degenerated sharply during the past hundred
years. [Note, below] In the island of sorcerers, where the spirits of the
dead can be called up at will:
[Note: The physical decadence which Swift claims to have observed may have
been a reality at that date. He attributes it to syphilis, which was a new
disease in Europe and may have been more virulent than it is now. Distilled
liquors, also, were a novelty in the seventeenth century and must have led
at first to a great increase in drunkenness. (Author's footnote.)]
I desired that the Senate of ROME might appear before me in one large
chamber, and a modern Representative in Counterview, in another. The
first seemed to be an Assembly of Heroes and Demy-Gods, the other a Knot
of Pedlars, Pick-pockets, Highwaymen and Bullies.
Although Swift uses this section of Part III to attack the truthfulness
of recorded history, his critical spirit deserts him as soon as he is
dealing with Greeks and Romans. He remarks, of course, upon the
corruption of imperial Rome, but he has an almost unreasoning admiration
for some of the leading figures of the ancient world:
I was struck with profound Veneration at the sight of BRUTUS, and could
easily discover the most consummate Virtue, the greatest Intrepidity and
Firmness of Mind, the truest Love of his Country, and general Benevolence
for Mankind, in every Lineament of his Countenance...I had the honour
to have much Conversation with BRUTUS, and was told, that his Ancestors
JUNIUS, SOCRATES, EPAMINONDAS, CATO the yo
unger, SIR THOMAS MORE, and
himself, were perpetually together: a SEXTUMVIRATE, to which all the Ages
of the World cannot add a seventh.
It will be noticed that of these six people, only one is a Christian.
This is an important point. If one adds together Swift's pessimism, his
reverence for the past, his incuriosity and his horror of the human body,
one arrives at an attitude common among religious reactionaries--that
is, people who defend an unjust order of Society by claiming that this
world cannot be substantially improved and only the "next world" matters.
However, Swift shows no sign of having any religious beliefs, at least in
any ordinary sense of the words. He does not appear to believe seriously
in life after death, and his idea of goodness is bound up with
republicanism, love of liberty, courage, "benevolence" (meaning in effect
public spirit), "reason" and other pagan qualities. This reminds one that
there is another strain in Swift, not quite congruous with his disbelief
in progress and his general hatred of humanity.
To begin with, he has moments when he is "constructive" and even
"advanced". To be occasionally inconsistent is almost a mark of vitality
in Utopia books, and Swift sometimes inserts a word of praise into a
passage that ought to be purely satirical. Thus, his ideas about the
education of the young are fathered on to the Lilliputians, who have much
the same views on this subject as the Houyhnhnms. The Lilliputians also
have various social and legal institutions (for instance, there are old
age pensions, and people are rewarded for keeping the law as well as
punished for breaking it) which Swift would have liked to see prevailing
in his own country. In the middle of this passage Swift remembers his
satirical intention and adds, "In relating these and the following Laws,
I would only be understood to mean the original Institutions, and not the
most scandalous Corruptions into which these people are fallen by the
degenerate Nature of Man" but as Lilliput is supposed to represent
England, and the laws he is speaking of have never had their parallel in
England, it is clear that the impulse to make constructive suggestions
has been too much for him. But Swift's greatest contribution to political
thought in the narrower sense of the words, is his attack, especially in
Part III, on what would now be called totalitarianism. He has an
extraordinarily clear prevision of the spy-haunted "police State", with
its endless heresy-hunts and treason trials, all really designed to
neutralize popular discontent by changing it into war hysteria. And one
must remember that Swift is here inferring the whole from a quite small
part, for the feeble governments of his own day did not give him
illustrations ready-made. For example, there is the professor at the
School of Political Projectors who "shewed me a large Paper of
Instructions for discovering Plots and Conspiracies", and who claimed
that one can find people's secret thoughts by examining their excrement:
Because Men are never so serious, thoughtful, and intent, as when they
are at Stool, which he found by frequent Experiment: for in such
Conjunctures, when he used meerly as a trial to consider what was the
best Way of murdering the King, his Ordure would have a tincture of
Green; but quite different when he thought only of raising an
Insurrection, or burning the Metropolis.
The professor and his theory are said to have been suggested to Swift by
the--from our point of view--not particularly astonishing or disgusting
fact that in a recent State trial some letters found in somebody's privy
had been put in evidence. Later in the same chapter we seem to be
positively in the middle of the Russian purges:
In the Kingdom of Tribnia, by the Natives called Langdon...the Bulk of
the People consist, in a Manner, wholly of Discoverers, Witnesses,
Informers, Accusers, Prosecutors, Evidences, Swearers...It is first agreed,
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