can
they act upon the man who hears nothing but his own praises?

As his years increased, his fits of giddiness and deafness grew more
frequent, and his deafness made conversation difficult; they grew
likewise more severe, till in 1736, as he was writing a poem called the
Legion Club, he was seized with a fit so painful and so long continued,
that he never after thought it proper to attempt any work of thought or
labour.

He was always careful of his money, and was, therefore, no liberal
entertainer; but was less frugal of his wine than of his meat. When his
friends of either sex came to him, in expectation of a dinner, his
custom was to give every one a shilling, that they might please
themselves with their provision. At last his avarice grew too powerful
for his kindness; he would refuse a bottle of wine, and in Ireland no
man visits where he cannot drink.

Having thus excluded conversation, and desisted from study, he had
neither business nor amusement; for, having by some ridiculous
resolution, or mad vow, determined never to wear spectacles, he could
make little use of books in his later years; his ideas, therefore, being
neither renovated by discourse, nor increased by reading, wore gradually
away, and left his mind vacant to the vexations of the hour, till, at
last, his anger was heightened into madness.

He, however, permitted one book to be published, which had been the
production of former years; Polite Conversation, which appeared in 1738.
The Directions for Servants was printed soon after his death. These two
performances show a mind incessantly attentive, and, when it was not
employed upon great things, busy with minute occurrences. It is
apparent, that he must have had the habit of noting whatever he
observed; for such a number of particulars could never have been
assembled by the power of recollection.

He grew more violent, and his mental powers declined, till, 1741, it was
found necessary that legal guardians should be appointed of his person
and fortune. He now lost distinction. His madness was compounded of rage
and fatuity. The last face that he knew was that of Mrs. Whiteway; and
her he ceased to know in a little time. His meat was brought him cut
into mouthfuls; but he would never touch it while the servant staid,
and, at last, after it had stood perhaps an hour, would eat it walking;
for he continued his old habit, and was on his feet ten hours a day.

Next year, 1742, he had an inflammati