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A Tale of a Tub
The Tale of a Tub   The Tale of a Tub - Section VII - A Digression In Praise Of Digressions
Jonathan Swift
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       Section VII - A Digression In Praise Of Digressions
       I have sometimes heard of an Iliad in a nut-shell, but it has been
       my fortune to have much oftener seen a nut-shell in an Iliad. There
       is no doubt that human life has received most wonderful advantages
       from both; but to which of the two the world is chiefly indebted, I
       shall leave among the curious as a problem worthy of their utmost
       inquiry. For the invention of the latter, I think the commonwealth
       of learning is chiefly obliged to the great modern improvement of
       digressions. The late refinements in knowledge, running parallel to
       those of diet in our nation, which among men of a judicious taste
       are dressed up in various compounds, consisting in soups and olios,
       fricassees and ragouts.
       It is true there is a sort of morose, detracting, ill-bred people
       who pretend utterly to disrelish these polite innovations. And as
       to the similitude from diet, they allow the parallel, but are so
       bold as to pronounce the example itself a corruption and degeneracy
       of taste. They tell us that the fashion of jumbling fifty things
       together in a dish was at first introduced in compliance to a
       depraved and debauched appetite, as well as to a crazy constitution,
       and to see a man hunting through an olio after the head and brains
       of a goose, a widgeon, or a woodcock, is a sign he wants a stomach
       and digestion for more substantial victuals. Further, they affirm
       that digressions in a book are like foreign troops in a state, which
       argue the nation to want a heart and hands of its own, and often
       either subdue the natives, or drive them into the most unfruitful
       corners.
       But after all that can be objected by these supercilious censors, it
       is manifest the society of writers would quickly be reduced to a
       very inconsiderable number if men were put upon making books with
       the fatal confinement of delivering nothing beyond what is to the
       purpose. It is acknowledged that were the case the same among us as
       with the Greeks and Romans, when learning was in its cradle, to be
       reared and fed and clothed by invention, it would be an easy task to
       fill up volumes upon particular occasions without further
       expatiating from the subject than by moderate excursions, helping to
       advance or clear the main design. But with knowledge it has fared
       as with a numerous army encamped in a fruitful country, which for a
       few days maintains itself by the product of the soil it is on, till
       provisions being spent, they send to forage many a mile among
       friends or enemies, it matters not. Meanwhile the neighbouring
       fields, trampled and beaten down, become barren and dry, affording
       no sustenance but clouds of dust.
       The whole course of things being thus entirely changed between us
       and the ancients, and the moderns wisely sensible of it, we of this
       age have discovered a shorter and more prudent method to become
       scholars and wits, without the fatigue of reading or of thinking.
       The most accomplished way of using books at present is twofold:
       either first to serve them as some men do lords, learn their titles
       exactly, and then brag of their acquaintance; or, secondly, which is
       indeed the choicer, the profounder, and politer method, to get a
       thorough insight into the index by which the whole book is governed
       and turned, like fishes by the tail. For to enter the palace of
       learning at the great gate requires an expense of time and forms,
       therefore men of much haste and little ceremony are content to get
       in by the back-door. For the arts are all in a flying march, and
       therefore more easily subdued by attacking them in the rear. Thus
       physicians discover the state of the whole body by consulting only
       what comes from behind. Thus men catch knowledge by throwing their
       wit on the posteriors of a book, as boys do sparrows with flinging
       salt upon their tails. Thus human life is best understood by the
       wise man's rule of regarding the end. Thus are the sciences found,
       like Hercules' oxen, by tracing them backwards. Thus are old
       sciences unravelled like old stockings, by beginning at the foot.
       Besides all this, the army of the sciences hath been of late with a
       world of martial discipline drawn into its close order, so that a
       view or a muster may be taken of it with abundance of expedition.
       For this great blessing we are wholly indebted to systems and
       abstracts, in which the modern fathers of learning, like prudent
       usurers, spent their sweat for the ease of us their children. For
       labour is the seed of idleness, and it is the peculiar happiness of
       our noble age to gather the fruit.
       Now the method of growing wise, learned, and sublime having become
       so regular an affair, and so established in all its forms, the
       number of writers must needs have increased accordingly, and to a
       pitch that has made it of absolute necessity for them to interfere
       continually with each other. Besides, it is reckoned that there is
       not at this present a sufficient quantity of new matter left in
       Nature to furnish and adorn any one particular subject to the extent
       of a volume. This I am told by a very skilful computer, who hath
       given a full demonstration of it from rules of arithmetic.
       This perhaps may be objected against by those who maintain the
       infinity of matter, and therefore will not allow that any species of
       it can be exhausted. For answer to which, let us examine the
       noblest branch of modern wit or invention planted and cultivated by
       the present age, and which of all others hath borne the most and the
       fairest fruit. For though some remains of it were left us by the
       ancients, yet have not any of those, as I remember, been translated
       or compiled into systems for modern use. Therefore we may affirm,
       to our own honour, that it has in some sort been both invented and
       brought to a perfection by the same hands. What I mean is, that
       highly celebrated talent among the modern wits of deducing
       similitudes, allusions, and applications, very surprising,
       agreeable, and apposite, from the signs of either sex, together with
       their proper uses. And truly, having observed how little invention
       bears any vogue besides what is derived into these channels, I have
       sometimes had a thought that the happy genius of our age and country
       was prophetically held forth by that ancient typical description of
       the Indian pigmies whose stature did not exceed above two feet, sed
       quorum pudenda crassa, et ad talos usque pertingentia. Now I have
       been very curious to inspect the late productions, wherein the
       beauties of this kind have most prominently appeared. And although
       this vein hath bled so freely, and all endeavours have been used in
       the power of human breath to dilate, extend, and keep it open, like
       the Scythians {116}, who had a custom and an instrument to blow up
       those parts of their mares, that they might yield the more milk; yet
       I am under an apprehension it is near growing dry and past all
       recovery, and that either some new fonde of wit should, if possible,
       be provided, or else that we must e'en be content with repetition
       here as well as upon all other occasions.
       This will stand as an uncontestable argument that our modern wits
       are not to reckon upon the infinity of matter for a constant supply.
       What remains, therefore, but that our last recourse must be had to
       large indexes and little compendiums? Quotations must be
       plentifully gathered and booked in alphabet. To this end, though
       authors need be little consulted, yet critics, and commentators, and
       lexicons carefully must. But above all, those judicious collectors
       of bright parts, and flowers, and observandas are to be nicely dwelt
       on by some called the sieves and boulters of learning, though it is
       left undetermined whether they dealt in pearls or meal, and
       consequently whether we are more to value that which passed through
       or what stayed behind.
       By these methods, in a few weeks there starts up many a writer
       capable of managing the profoundest and most universal subjects.
       For what though his head be empty, provided his commonplace book be
       full? And if you will bate him but the circumstances of method, and
       style, and grammar, and invention; allow him but the common
       privileges of transcribing from others, and digressing from himself
       as often as he shall see occasion, he will desire no more
       ingredients towards fitting up a treatise that shall make a very
       comely figure on a bookseller's shelf, there to be preserved neat
       and clean for a long eternity, adorned with the heraldry of its
       title fairly inscribed on a label, never to be thumbed or greased by
       students, nor bound to everlasting chains of darkness in a library,
       but when the fulness of time is come shall happily undergo the trial
       of purgatory in order to ascend the sky.
       Without these allowances how is it possible we modern wits should
       ever have an opportunity to introduce our collections listed under
       so many thousand heads of a different nature, for want of which the
       learned world would be deprived of infinite delight as well as
       instruction, and we ourselves buried beyond redress in an inglorious
       and undistinguished oblivion?
       From such elements as these I am alive to behold the day wherein the
       corporation of authors can outvie all its brethren in the field--a
       happiness derived to us, with a great many others, from our Scythian
       ancestors, among whom the number of pens was so infinite that the
       Grecian eloquence had no other way of expressing it than by saying
       that in the regions far to the north it was hardly possible for a
       man to travel, the very air was so replete with feathers.
       The necessity of this digression will easily excuse the length, and
       I have chosen for it as proper a place as I could readily find. If
       the judicious reader can assign a fitter, I do here empower him to
       remove it into any other corner he please. And so I return with
       great alacrity to pursue a more important concern.
       Content of Section VII - A Digression In Praise Of Digressions [Jonathan Swift's ebook: A Tale of a Tub]
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