The law of Libel - nothing ever changes [KF, I should know!]

Chapter XXXII.

The Law of Libel.

**Observations on the law of libel, particularly in Ireland - Hoy’s Mercury - Messrs. Van Trump and Epaphroditus Dodridge - Former leniency regarding cases of libel contrasted with recent severity - Lord Clonmell and the Irish bar

• Mr. Magee, of the Dublin Evening Post -Festivities on “Fiat Hill” - Theophilus Swift and his two sons - His duel with the Duke of Richmond - The “Monster!” - Swift libels the Fellows of Dublin University - His curious trial - Contrast between the English and Irish bars - Mr. James Fitzgerald - Swift is found guilty, and sentenced to Newgate - Dr. Burrows, one of the Fellows, afterwards libels Mr. Swift, and is convicted - Both confined in the same apartment at Newgate.**

In the early part of my life the Irish press, though supposed to be under due restraint, was in fact quite uncontrolled. From the time of Dean Swift and Draper’s *Letters, *its freedom had increased at intervals not only as to public but private subjects. This was attributable to several curious causes, which combined to render the law of libel, although stronger in theory, vastly feebler in practice than at the present day; and whoever takes the trouble of looking into the Irish newspapers about the commencement of the American Revolution, and in 1782; will find therein some of the boldest writing and ablest *libels *in the English language. Junius was the pivot on which the liberty of the press at one moment vibrated - liberty was triumphant; but if that precedent were to prevail to the same extent, I am not sure it did not achieve too much.

The law of libel in England, however railed at, appears to me upon the freest footing that private or public security can possibly admit. The press is not encumbered by any *previous *restraints. Any man may write, print, and publish whatever he pleases, and none but his own peers and equals, in two distinct capacities, can declare his culpability, or enable the law to punish him as a criminal for a breach of it. I cannot conceive what greater liberty or protection the press can require, or ought to enjoy. If a man voluntarily commits an offence against the law of libel with his eyes open, it is only fair that he should abide by the statute that punishes him for doing so. Despotic governments employ a previous censorship, in order to cloak their crimes and establish their tyranny. England, on the other hand, appoints independent judges and sworn jurors to defend her liberties, and hence is confirmed to the press a wholesome latitude of full and fair discussion on every public man and measure.

The law of libel in Ireland was formerly very loose and badly understood, and the courts there had no particular propensity for multiplying legal difficulties on ticklish subjects.

The judges were then dependent, a circumstance which might have partially accounted for such causes being less frequent than in later times; but another reason, more extensively operating, was that in those days men who were libelled generally took the law into their own hands, and eased the King’s Bench of great trouble by the substitution of a small sword for a declaration, or a case of pistols for a judgment; and these same articles certainly formed a greater check upon the propagation of libels than the 12 judges and 36 jurors altogether at the present day, and gave rise to a code of laws very different from those we call municipal. A third consideration is, that scolding matches and disputes among soldiers were then never made matters of legal inquiry.

Military officers are now by statute held unfit to remain such if they fight one another, whilst formerly they were thought unfit to remain in the army if they did not; formerly they were bound to fight in person, now they can fight by proxy, *and *in Ireland may lure champions to contest the matter for them every day in the week, Sunday excepted, and so decide their quarrels without the least danger or one drop of bloodshed. A few able lawyers, armed with paper and parchment, will fight for them all day long, and if necessary all night likewise, and that, probably, for only as much recompense as may be sufficient to provide a handsome entertainment to some of the spectators and to their pioneer attorney, who is generally bottleholder on these occasions.

Another curious anomaly is become obvious. If *lawyers *now refuse to pistol each other, they may be scouted out of society, though duelling is *against *the law! but if military officers take a shot at each other, they may be dismissed from the army, though fighting is the essence and object of their profession: so that a civilian, by the new lights of society, changes places with the soldier, - the soldier is bound to be peaceable, and the civilian is forced to be pugnacious - *cedent arma togae. *It is curious to conjecture what our next metamorphosis may be!

The first publication which gave rise, so far as I can remember, to decided measures for restraining the Irish press was a newspaper called *Hoy’s Mercuty, *published nearly 50 years ago by Mr. Peter Hoy, a printer in Parliament Street, whom I saw some time since in his shop on Ormond Quay in good health, and who voted for me on the Dublin election of 1803.

In this newspaper Mr. Hoy brought forward two fictitious characters - one called Van Trump, the other Ephapbroditus Dodridge. These he represented as standing together in one of the most public promenades of the Irish capital; and the one, on describing the appearance, features, and dress of each passer-by, and asking his companion “who that was?” received in reply a full account of the individual, to such a degree of accuracy as to leave no doubt respecting identity, particularly in a place so contracted as, comparatively speaking, Dublin then was. In this way as much libellous matter was disseminated as would now send a publisher to gaol for half his life; and the affair was so warmly and generally taken up that the lawyers were set to work, Peter Hoy sadly terrified, and Van Trump and Epaphroditus Dodridge banished from that worthy person’s newspapen

But the most remarkable observation is, that so soon as the Irish judges were, in 1782, made by statute independent of the Crown, the law of libel became more strictly construed, and the libellers more severely punished. This can only be accounted for by supposing that, while dependent, the judges felt that any peculiar rigour might be attributed, in certain instances, less to their justice than to their policy; and being thus sensitive, especially in regard to Crown cases, they were chary of pushing their enactments to their full scope. After the provision which rendered them independent of the ruling powers, this delicacy became needless. But, nevertheless, a candid judge will always bear in mind that austerity is no necessary attribute of justice, which is always more efficient in its operation when tempered with mercy. The unsalutary harshness of our penal code has become notorious. True, it is not acted up to; and this is only another modification of the evil, since it tempts almost every culprit to anticipate his own escape. On the Continent it is different. There the punishment which the law provides is *certainly *inflicted; and the consequence is, that in France there is not above *one *capital conviction to any *twenty *in England.

The late Lord Clonmell’s [His lordship’s only son, married to a daughter of the Marquess of Salisbury, is now a total absentee, and exhibits another lamentable proof that the children even of men who rose to wealth and title by the favours of the Irish people feel disgusted, and renounce for ever that country to which they are indebted for their bread and their elevation!] heart was nearly broken by vexations connected with his public functions. He had been in the habit of holding parties to excessive bail in libel cases on his own fiat, which method of proceeding was at length regularly challenged and brought forward; and the matter being discussed with asperity in Parliament, his lordship was, to his great mortification, restrained from pursuing such a course for the future.

He had in the Court of King’s Bench used rough language towards Mr. Hackett, a gentleman of the bar, the members of which profession considered themselves as all assailed in the person of a brother barrister. A general meeting was therefore called by the father of the bar, a severe condemnation of his lordship’s conduct voted, with only one dissentient voice, and an unprecedented resolution entered into, that “until his lordship publicly apologised, no barrister would either take a brief, appear in the King’s Bench, or sign any pleadings for that court.”

This experiment was actually tried. The judges sat, but no counsel appeared, no cause was prepared, the attorneys all vanished, and their lordships had the court to themselves. There was no alternative; and next day Lord Clonmel published a very ample apology by advertisement in the newspapers, and with excellent address made it appear as if written on the evening of the offence, and therefore voluntary. [An occurrence somewhat of the same nature took place at no very great distance of time at Maryborough assizes, between Mr. Daley, a judge of the Irish Court of King’s Bench, and Mr. W Johnson, now judge of the Common Pleas in that country.

Mr. Daley spoke of committing Mr. Johnson for being rude to him, but unfortunately he committed himself! A meeting was called, at which I was requested to attend, but I declined, and was afterwards informed that my refusal had, very unjustly, given offence to both parties. The fact is, that, entertaining no very high opinion of the placability of either, I did not choose to interfere, and so unluckily replied that “they might fight dog, fight bear - I would give no opinion about the matter.”

One of the few things I ever forget is the way in which that affair terminated. It made little impression on me at the time, and so my memory rejected it.]

This nobleman had built a beautiful house near Dublin, and walled in a deer-park to operate medicinally, by inducing him to use more riding exercise than he otherwise would take. Mr. Magee, printer of the *Dublin Evening Post, *who was what they call a little cracked, but very acute, one of the men whom his lordship had held to excessive bail, had never forgiven it, and purchased a plot of ground under my lord’s windows, which he called “Fiat Hill.” There he entertained the populace of Dublin once a week With various droll exhibitions and sports - such, for instance, as asses dressed up with wigs and scarlet robes, dancing dogs in gowns and wigs as barristers, soaped pigs, &c. These assemblies, although productive of the greatest annoyance to his lordship, were not sufficiently riotous to be termed a public nuisance, being solely confined to Magee’s own field, which his lordship had unfortunately omitted to purchase when he built his house.

The earl, however, expected at length to be clear of his tormentor’s feats, at least for a while, as Magee was found guilty on a charge of libel, and Lord Clonmell would have no qualms of conscience in giving *justice *full scope by keeping him under the eye of the marshal, and consequently an absentee from “Fiat Hill” for a good space of time.

Magee was brought up for judgment, and pleaded himself in mitigation that he was ignorant of the publication, not having been in Dublin when the libel appeared; which fact, he added, Lord Clonmell well knew. He had been indeed entertaining the citizens under the earl’s windows, and saw his lordship peeping out from the side of one of them the whole of that day; and the next morning he had overtaken his lordship riding into town. “And by the same token,” continued Magee, “your lordship was riding *cheek by jowl *with your own brother, Matthias Scott, the tallow-chandler, [Lord Clonmell and Matthias Scott vied with each other which had the largest and most hanging pair of cheeks - vulgarly called *jowls. *His lordship’s chin was a treble one, whilst Matthias’s was but doubled, but then it was broader and hung deeper than his brother’s.] from Waterford, and audibly discussing the price of fat at the very moment I passed you.”

There was no standing this, a general laugh was inevitable; and his lordship, with that address for which he was so remarkable, affecting to commune a moment with his brother judges, said, “it was obvious, from the poor man’s manner, that he was not just then in a state to receive definitive judgment; that the paroxysm should be permitted to subside before any sentence could be properly pronounced. For the present, therefore, he should only be given into the care of the marshal, till it was ascertained how far the state of his intellect should regulate the court in pronouncing its judgment.” The marshal saw the crisis, and hurried away Magee before he had further opportunity of incensing the Chief Justice.

Theophilus Swift, who, though an Irishman, practised at the English bar, gave rise to one of the most curious libel cases that ever occurred in Ireland, and which involved a point of very great interest and importance.

Thephilus had two sons. In point of figure, temper, disposition, and propensities, no *two *brothers in the whole kingdom *were *so dissimilar. Dean Swift, the eldest, was tall, thin, and gentlemanly, but withal an unqualified reformer and revolutionist; the second, Edmond, was broad, squat, rough, and as fanatical an ultra-royalist as the king’s dominions afforded. Both were clever men in their way.

The father was a freethinker in every respect - fond of his sons, although materially different from either, but agreeing with the younger in being a professed and extravagant loyalist He was bald headed, pale, slender, and active, with gray eyes, and a considerable squint; an excellent classic scholar, and versed likewise in modern literature and *belles lettres. *In short, Theophilus Swift laid claim to the title of a sincere, kind-hearted man; but was at the same time the most visionary of created beings. He saw every-thing whimsically, many things erroneously, and nothing like another person. Eternally in motion, either talking, writing, fighting, or whatever occupation came uppermost, he never remained idle one second whilst awake, and I really believe was busily employed even in his slumbers.

His sons, of course, adopted entirely different pursuits; and though affectionate brothers, *agreed *in nothing save a love for each other and attachment to their father. They were both writers, and good ones; both speakers, and bad ones.

Military etiquette was formerly very conspicuous on some occasions. I well recollect when a man bearing the king’s commission was considered as bound to fight anybody and everybody that gave him the invitation. When the Duke of York was pleased to exchange shots with Colonel Lennox, afterwards Duke of Richmond, it was considered by our friend Theophilus as a personal offence to every gentleman in England, civil or military; and he held that every man who loved the reigning family should challenge Colonel Lennox, until somebody turned up who was good marksman enough to penetrate the Colonel, and thus punish his presumption.

Following up his speculative notions, Mr. Swift actually challenged Colonel Lennox for having had the arrogance to fire at the king’s son. The Colonel had never seen or even heard of this antagonist; but learning that he was a barrister and a gentleman, be considered that, as a military man, he was bound to fight him as long as he thought proper. The result, therefore, was a meeting; and Colonel Lennox shot my friend Theophilus clean through the carcass, so that, as Sir Callaghan O’Brallaghan says, “he made his body shine through the sun!’, Swift, according to all precedents on such occasions, first staggered, then fell, was carried home, and given over, made his will, and bequeathed the Duke of York a gold snuff-box! However, he recovered so completely, that when the Duke of Richmond went to Ireland as Lord-Lieutenant, I, to my surprise, saw Swift at his Grace’s first levee, most anxious for the introduction. His turn came,; and without ceremony he said to the duke, by way of a pun, that “the last time he had the honour of waiting on his grace as Colonel Lennox, he received better entertainment - for that his grace had given him a ball!”

“True,” said the duke smiling; ” and now that I am Lord-Lieutenant, the least I can do is to give you a brace of them!” and in due time, he sent Swift two special invitations to the balls, to make. these terms consistent with his Excellency’s compliments.

Swift, as will hence be inferred, was a romantic personage. In fact, he shewed the most decisive determination not to die in obscurity, by whatever means his celebrity might be acquired.

A savage, justly termed *the monster, *had during Swift’s career at the bar practised the most horrid and mysterious crime we have yet heard of - namely, that of stabbing women indiscriminately in the street, deliberately and without cause. He was at length taken and ordered for trial; but so odious and detestable was his crime, that not a gentleman of the bar would act as his advocate. This was enough to induce Swift to accept the office. He argued truly, that every man must be presumed innocent till by legal proof he appears to be guilty, and that there was no reason why the monster should be excepted from the general rule, or that actual guilt should be presumed on the charge against him more than any other charge against any other person; that prejudice was a *prima facie *injustice, and that the crime of stabbing a lady with a weapon which was only calculated to wound, could not be *greater *than that of stabbing her to the heart, and destroying.her on the instant; that if the charge had been cutting the lady’s throat, he would have had his choice of advocates. He spoke and published his defence of the monster, who, however, was found guilty, and not half punished for his atrocity.

Theophilus had a competent private fortune; but as such men as he must somehow be always dabbling in what is called in Ireland “a bit of a lawsuit,” a large percentage of his rents never failed to get into the pockets of the attorneys and counsellors; and after he had recovered from the Duke of Richmond’s perforation, and the monster had been incarcerated, he determined to change his site, settle in his native country, and place his second son in the University of Dublin.

Suffice it to say, that he soon commenced a fracas with *all *the fellows of the university, on account of their “not doing justice somehow,” as he said, “to the cleverest lad in Ireland!” and according to his usual habit, he determined at once to punish several of the offenders by penmanship; and regenerate the great university of Ireland by a powerful, pointed, personal, and undisguised libel against its fellows.

Theophilus was not without some plausible grounds to work upon; but he never considered that a printed libel did not admit of any legal justification. He at once put half a dozen of the fellows *hors de societe, *by proclaiming them to be perjurers, profligates, impostors, &c.; and printed, published, and circulated this his *eulogium *with all the activity and zeal which belonged to his nature, working hard to give it a greater circulation than almost any libel published in Ireland, and that is saying a great deal! but the main tenor of his charge was a most serious imputation and a very home one.

By the statutes of the Irish university, strict celibacy is required; and Mr. Swift stated “that the fellows of that university, being also clergymen, had sworn on the Holy Evangelists that they would strictly obey and keep sacred these statutes of the university in manner, form, letter, and spirit, as enjoined by their charter from the virgin queen. But that notwithstanding such their solemn oath, several of these fellows and clergymen, flying in the face of the Holy Evangelists and of Queen Elizabeth, and forgetful of morality, religion, common decency, and good example, had actually taken to themselves each one woman, at least, who went by the name of *Miss Such-a-one, *but who, in fact, had in many instances undergone, or was supposed to have undergone, the ceremony and consummation of marriage with such and such a perjured fellow and parson of Dublin University; and that those who had not so married, had done worse! and that thereby they all had so perjured themselves, and held out so vicious a precedent to youth, that he was obliged to take away his son, for fear of contamination,” &c.

It is easy to conceive that this publication from the pen of a very gentlemanly, well-educated barrister, who had defended the monster at the bar and the Duke of York in Hyde Park, and shewel himself ready and willing to write or fight with any man or body of men in Ireland, naturally made no small bustle and fuss amongst a portion of the University men. Those who had kept out of the scrape were not reported to be in any state of deep mourning on the subject, as their *piety *was the more conspicuous; and it could not hurt the feelings of either of them to reflect that he might possibly get a step in his promotion, on account of the defection of those seniors whose hearts might be broken or removal made necessary by the never-ending perseverance of this tremendous barrister, who had christened his son *Dean *Swift, that he might appear a relative of that famous churchman, the patron and idol of the Irish people.

The gentlemen of the long robe were of course delighted with the occurrence: they had not for a long time met with so full and fair an opportunity of expending every sentence of their wit, eloquence, law, and logic, as in taking part in this celebrated controversy. I was greatly rejoiced at finding on my table a retainer against the fellows and parsons of Trinity College, whom I had always considered as a narrow-minded and untalented body of men, getting from £1,000 to £1,500 a-year each for teaching several hundred students how to remain ignorant of most of those acquirements that a well-educated gentleman ought to be master of: it is true, the students had a fair chance of becoming good Latin scholars, of gaining a little Greek and Hebrew, and of understanding several books of Euclid, with three or four chapters of Locke *On the Human Understanding, *and a sixpenny treatise on logic written by a very good divine, one of the body, to prove clearly that sophistry is superior to reason. [Nothing can so completely stamp the character of the University of Dublin as their suppression of the only school of eloquence in Ireland, “The Historical Society;” a school from which arose some of the most distinguished, able, and estimable characters that ever appeared in the forum, or in the Parliament of Ireland: this step was what the blundering Irish would call, “advancing backwards.”] This being my opinion of them, I *felt *no qualms of conscience in undertaking the defence of Theophilus Swift, Esq., though most undoubtedly a libeller. It is only necessary to say that Lord Clonmell, who had been, I believe, a sizer himself in that university, and in truth, all the judges, and with good reason, felt indignant at Theophilus Swift’s so violently assailing and disgracing, in the face of the empire, the only university in Ireland, thus attacking the clergy, though he defended a monster.

An information was in due form granted against Theophilus, and as he could neither deny the fact nor plead a justification to the libel, of course we had but a bad case of it. But the worse the case the harder an Irish barrister always worked to make it appear a good one. I beg here to observe, that the Irish bar were never, so decorous and mild at that time as to give up their briefs in desperate cases, as I have seen done in England, politely to save, as asserted, public time, and conciliate their lordships - thus sending their clients out of court because they *thought *they were not *defensible. *On the contrary, as I have said, the worse the case entrusted to an Irish barrister the more zealously did he labour and fight for his client. If he thought it *indefensible, *why take a fee? but his motto was, “while there is life there is hope.” During the speeches of these resolute advocates, powder and perspiration mingled in cordial streams adorn their writing features; their mouths, ornamented at each corner with generous froth, threw out half a dozen arguments, with tropes and syllogisms to match, whilst English gentlemen would have been cautiously pronouncing one monosyllable, and considering most discreetly what the next should be. In short, they always stuck to their cause to the very last gasp! and it may appear fabulous to a steady, regular English expounder of the law, that I have repeatedly seen a cause which the bar, the bench, and the jury seemed to think was irrevocably lost, after a few hours’ rubbing and puffing, like the exertions of the Humane Society, brought into a state of restored animation; and after another hour or two of cross-examination and perseverance, the judges and jury have changed their impressions, and sent home the cause quite alive in the pockets of the owner and lawful solicitor.

In making these observations, I cannot but mention a gentleman then at the very head of the bar as Prime Serjeant of Ireland, Mr. James Fitzgerald. I knew him long in great practice, and never saw him give up one case whilst it had a single point to rest upon, or he a puff of breath left to defend it; nor did I ever see any barrister succeed, either, in the whole or partially, in so many cases out of a given number as Mr. Fitzgerald; and I can venture to say, at least to think, that if the Right Honourable James Fitzgerald had been sent ambassador to Stockholm in the place of the Right Honourable Vesey Fitzgerald, his *cher garcon, *he would have worked Bernadotte to the stumps, merely by treating him just as if he were a motion in the Court of Exchequer. There was no treaty which the Government of England might have ordered him to *insist *upon that he would not have carried, at all events in a degree.

This is a digression; but having been accustomed for near 40 years to express my regard for that gentleman, and as this is probably the last time I shall ever have an opportunity of doing so, I was determined in my “last speech” not to be forgetful of my old, and I really believe, sincere friend.

And now, reader - I have in my preface stated my objections to the epithet gentle - we will go back to Theophilus Swift, and the college, and the King’s Bench. The trial at length came on, and there were decidedly more parsons present than I believe ever appeared in any court of justice of the same dimensions. The court set out full gallop against us: nevertheless, we worked on - twice 12 judges could not have stopped us! I examined the most learned man of the whole university, Dr. Barret, a little, greasy, shabby, croaking, round-faced vice-provost: he knew of nothing on earth, save books and guineas - never went out, held but little intercourse with men, and none at all with women.

I worked at him unsuccessfully for more than an hour; not one decisive sentence could I get him to pronounce: at length be grew quite tired of me, and I thought to conciliate him by telling him that his father had christened me. “Indeed!” exclaimed he: “Oh! I did not know you were a Christian !” At this unexpected repartee the laugh was so strong against me, that I found myself muzzled. My colleagues worked as hard as I; but a 70 horse-power could not have moved the court. It was, however, universally admitted that there was but one little point against us out of a hundred which the other side had urged: that point, too, had only three letters in it, yet it upset all our arguments-that talismanic word “law” was more powerful than two speeches of five hours each; and by the unanimous concurrence of the court and jury, Theophilus Swift was found guilty of writing, publishing, and undoubtedly *proving *that certain parsons, Fellows of Dublin University, had been living conjugally with certain persons of an entirely different sex; and in consequence he was sentenced to 12 months’ imprisonment in his majesty’s gaol of Newgate, where he took up his residence with nearly 240 felons and handy pickpockets.

My poor visionary friend was in a sad state of depression; but Heaven had a banquet in store for him which more than counterbalanced all his discomfitures - an incident that I really think even the oracle of Delphos never would have thought of predicting.

The Rev. Dr. Burrows was of all the most inveterate enemy and active prosecutor of my friend Theophilus. He was one of those who, in despite of God and Queen Elizabeth, had fallen in love, and indulged his concupiscence by uniting his fortunes and person with the object of it, and thereby got within the circle of Swift’s anti-moralists. This reverend person determined to make the public hate Theophilus, if possible, as much as he did himself; and forgetting in his zeal the doctrine of libel, and the precedent which he had himself just helped to establish, set about to slay the slayer, and write a *quietus *for Theophilus Swift, as he supposed, during the rest of his days! Thus hugging himself in all the luxury of complete revenge on a fallen foe, Dr. Burrows produced a libel at least as unjustifiable against the prisoner as the prisoner had promulgated against him; and having printed, published, and circulated the same, his Reverence and Madam conceived they had executed full justice on the enemy of marriage and the clergy. But, alas they reckoned without their host. No sooner had I received a copy of this redoubtable pamphlet than I hastened to my friend Theophilus, whom, from a state of despondency and unhappiness, I had the pleasure, in half an hour, of seeing at least as happy and more pleased than any king in Europe. It is unnecessary to say more than that I recommended an immediate prosecution of the Rev. Dr. Burrows for a false, gross, and malicious libel against Theophilus Swift, Esq. Never was any prosecution better founded or more clearly and effectually supported, and it took complete effect. The reverend prosecutor, now culprit in his turn, was sentenced to one-half of Swift’s term of imprisonment, and sent off to the same gaol.

The learned fellows were astounded, the university so far disgraced; and Theophilus Swift immediately published both trials, with observations, notes critical and historical, &c.

But, alas! the mortification of the reverend fellow did not end here. On arriving at Newgate, as the governor informed me, the doctor desired a room as high up as could be had, that he might not be disturbed whilst remaining in that mansion. The governor informed him, with great regret, that he had not even a pigeon hole in the gaol unoccupied at the time, there being 240 prisoners, chiefly pickpockets, many of whom were waiting to be transported, and that till these were got rid of he had no private room that would answer his reverence; but there was a very neat and good chamber in which were only two beds - one occupied by a respectable and polite gentleman; and if the doctor could manage in this way meanwhile, he might depend on a preference the moment there should be a vacancy. Necessity has no law, and the doctor, forced to acquiesce, desired to be shewn to the chamber. On entering, the gentleman and he exchanged bows, but in a moment both started involuntarily at sight of each other. On one was to be seen the suppressed smile of mental triumph, and on the other the grin of mortification. But Swift, naturally the *pink *of politeness, gave no reason for an increase of the doctor’s chagrin. As the sunbeams put out a fire, so did a sense of his folly flash so strong upon the doctor’s reason, that it extinguished the blaze of his anger, and the governor having left them, in a short time an *eclaircissement took place between these two fellow-lodgers in a room 14 feet by twelve! *I afterwards learned that they jogged on very well together till the expiration of their sentences, and I never heard of any libel published by either the doctor or Swift afterwards.

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