eminently successful "Drapier's Letters" are a
case in point. Yet we question if Swift were not himself surprised at
their effect. He knew his power later when he threatened the Archbishop
of Armagh, but he, no doubt, credited the result to his own arguments,
and not to the passions he had aroused. His sense of justice was the
strongest, and it was through that sense that the condition of the
people of Ireland appealed to him. He forgot, or he did not see that the
very passion in himself was of prime importance, since it was really to
it that his own efforts were due. The fine flower of imagination never
blossomed in Swift. He was neither prophet nor poet; but he was a great
leader, a splendid captain, a logical statesman. It is to this lack of
imagination that we must look for the real root of his cynical humour
and satirical temper. A more imaginative man than Swift with much less
power would have better appreciated the weaknesses of humanity and made
allowances for them. He would never have held them up to ridicule and
contempt, but would rather have laid stress on those instincts of honour
and nobility which the most ignorant and least reasoning possess in some
degree.

Looking back on the work Swift did, and comparing its effect at the time
with the current esteem in which he is held in the present day, we shall
find that his reputation has altogether changed. In his own day, and
especially during his life in Ireland, his work was special, and brought
him a special repute. He was a party's advocate and the people's friend.
His literary output, distinguished though it was, was of secondary
importance compared with the purpose for which it was accomplished. He
was the friend of Harley, the champion of the Protestant Church, the
Irish patriot, the enemy of Whiggism, the opponent of Nonconformity.
To-day all these phrases mean little or nothing to those who know of
Swift as the author of "A Tale of a Tub," and "Gulliver's Travels."
Swift is now accepted as a great satirist, and admired for the wonderful
knowledge he shows of the failings and weaknesses of human nature. He is
admired but never loved. The particular occasions in his life-time
which urged him to rouse passions mean nothing to us; they have lost the
aroma of his just indignation and are become historical events. What is
left of him for us is the result of cold analysis and almost heartless
contempt. How different would it have been had Swift allied his gre