ABSTRACT
Swift’s complaints of poor health, like the fury of his figures of speech, might lead one to imagine him as a bitter, isolated Timon. But he did not believe in letting spleen dictate his social habits. Sometimes, of course, he pretended to live in gloomy isolation. Yet he could also admit the truth—that Ireland was more than tolerable for him. Apart from the lack of English friends and the anger over political or economic mischief, Hibernia offered many comforts to the first citizen of his country. Urging Pope to visit him, Swift went over the amenities he enjoyed:
[Both] summers and winters are milder here than with you; all things for life in general better for a middling fortune; you will have an absolute command of your company, with whatever obsequiousness or freedom you may expect or allow… I have said enough, yet not half. Except absence from friends, I confess freely that I have no discontent at living here; besides what arises from a silly spirit of liberty, which as it neither sours my drink, nor hurts my meat, nor spoils my stomach farther than in imagination, so I resolve to throw it off. 1
