The Prose Works of Jonathan Swift, D.D. — Volume 09: Contributions to The Tatler, The Examiner, The Spectator, and The IntelligencerSwift, Jonathan
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The Prose Works of Jonathan Swift, D.D. — Volume 09: Contributions to The Tatler, The Examiner, The Spectator, and The Intelligencer
Swift, Jonathan
English essays -- 18th century; English prose literature -- 18th century
But the same genealogy cannot always be admitted for _political lying;_ I
shall therefore desire to refine upon it, by adding some circumstances of
its birth and parents. A political lie is sometimes born out of a
discarded statesman's head, and thence delivered to be nursed and dandled
by the mob. Sometimes it is produced a monster, and _licked_ into shape;
at other times it comes into the world completely formed, and is spoiled
in the licking. It is often born an infant in the regular way, and
requires time to mature it: and often it sees the light in its full
growth, but dwindles away by degrees. Sometimes it is of noble birth; and
sometimes the spawn of a stock-jobber. _Here_, it screams aloud at the
opening of the womb; and _there_, it is delivered with a whisper. I know
a lie that now disturbs half the kingdom with its noise, which though too
proud and great at present to own its parents, I can remember in its
whisper-hood. To conclude the nativity of this monster; when it comes
into the world without a _sting_, it is still-born; and whenever it loses
its sting, it dies.
No wonder, if an infant so miraculous in its birth, should be destined
for great adventures: and accordingly we see it has been the guardian
spirit of a prevailing party for almost twenty years. It can conquer
kingdoms without fighting, and sometimes with the loss of a battle: It
gives and resumes employments; can sink a mountain to a mole-hill, and
raise a mole-hill to a mountain; has presided for many years at
committees of elections; can wash a blackamoor white; make a saint of an
atheist, and a patriot of a profligate; can furnish foreign ministers
with intelligence, and raise or let fall the credit of the nation. This
goddess flies with a huge looking-glass in her hands, to dazzle the
crowd, and make them see, according as she turns it, their ruin in their
interest, and their interest in their ruin. In this glass you will behold
your best friends clad in coats powdered with _flower-de-luces_[5] and
triple crowns; their girdles hung round with chains, and beads, and
wooden shoes: and your worst enemies adorned with the ensigns of liberty,
property, indulgence, and moderation, and a cornucopia in their hands.
Her large wings, like those of a flying-fish, are of no use but while
they are moist; she therefore dips them in mud, and soaring aloft
scatters it in the eyes of the multitude, flying with great swiftness;
but at every turn is forced to stoop in dirty way for new supplies.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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