ling the crude arrangement beneath.
Nor is it to argue too nicely, to suggest that our present sympathy for
the past pain, our amazement, and our horror, are, after all, our own
unconscious tributes to the power of the man who calls them up, and our
confession of the lasting validity of his criticism.

This is not the power nor is it the kind of criticism that are the
elements of the art of the journalist. Perhaps we should be glad that it
is not; which is but to say that we are content with things as they
exist. It requires a special set of conditions to precipitate a Swift.
Happily, if we will have it so, the conditions in which we find ourselves
ask for that kind of journalist whose function is amply fulfilled when
he has measured the movements of the hour by the somewhat higher
standards of the day. The conditions under which Swift lived demanded a
journalist of an entirely different calibre; and they got him. They
obtained a man who dissolved the petty jealousies of party power in the
acid of satire, and who distilled the affected fears for Church and State
in the alembic of a statesmanship that establishes a nation's majesty and
dignity on the common welfare of its free people. When Swift, at the
beginning of the November of 1710, was called in to assist the Tory party
by undertaking the work of "The Examiner," he found a condition of things
so involved and so unstable, that it required the very nicest
appreciation, the most delicate handling, and the boldest of hearts to
readjust and re-establish, without fearful consequences. Harley and St.
John were safely housed, and, apparently, amply protected by a
substantial majority. But majorities are often not the most trustworthy
of supports. Apart from the over-confidence which they inspire, and
apart from the danger of a too-enthusiastic following, such as found
expression in the October Club, there was the danger which might come
from the dissatisfaction of the people at large, should their temper be
wrongly gauged; and at this juncture it was not easy to gauge. The
popularity of Marlborough and his victories, on the one hand, was
undoubted. On the other, however, there was the growing opinion that
those victories had been paid for at a price greater than England could
afford. If she had gained reputation and prestige, these could not fill
the mouths of the landed class, gradually growing poorer, and the members
of this class were not of a disposition to restrain the