Moreover, the term is to be observed in the earliest translation of Don Quixote (iii. vi.): “by the living jingo, I did but jest,” and in Rabelais (v. xxviii.): “by jingo, I believe he would make three bites of a cherry.” To seek for the origin of the oath, we should have to turn to a somewhat singular source. We should find it as far away as the slopes of the Pyrenees, where Basque peasants have long sworn by Jincoa, that in fact being the Basque name for God.
We have made mention of Swift in a way that might favour the presumption that his ridicule was not at any time directed against the subject of oath-taking. That such is hardly the case will be seen from his prospectus of the Bank of Swearing, where this overgrown distempered plant is singled out as a fair butt for his sallies. The nature of the business proposed to be transacted at this fanciful banking-house may be more aptly considered in another chapter.
CHAPTER VII.
| “Viola. Swear as if you came but new from the knighting. Fust. Nay; I’ll swear after £400 a year.” Decker’s Honest W. |
Written during the fever of South Sea speculation, the skit of Jonathan Swift, known as the “Bank of Swearing,” was one exceedingly felicitous and well-timed. We are amused even now, as we read the prospectus of this preposterous undertaking, at the extreme audacity with which the would-be projector solemnly enumerates its advantages. Impossible and altogether ludicrous as was the enterprise, it is not improbable that many of the eager financiers of that speculative age fancied they saw solid reason in the scheme. It is only to be hoped that they did not too eagerly respond to the facilities for investment which the Swearers’ Bank was reputed to hold out.
The notion was simply that of a chartered bank established upon a novel basis and financing upon an original principle. Such bank was in fact to enjoy a monopoly of levying the fines which the laws of the country imposed upon swearing. Although these penalties had been rarely inflicted, the mere circumstance of their being warranted by the statute-book was regarded by the projector in the light of a mine of latent wealth. A profitable banking concern once fairly in operation, and backed by the security of these statutory imposts, what more could the investor require for his capital?
To convince the investing public of the merits of his scheme, he proceeds to calculate the sums that might be realised by fully putting the act into vigour. The neglected statute upon the basis of which the whole of this superstructure was to be raised and the Bank of Swearing endowed, was the act of the sixth and seventh year of William and Mary, inflicting a penalty at the rate of not less than a shilling an oath.[35]
“It is computed by geographers,”—so argues the promoter—“that there are two millions in the kingdom [Ireland], of which number there may be said to be a million of swearing souls. It is thought there may be five thousand gentlemen. Every gentleman, taken one with another, may afford to swear an oath every day, which will yearly produce one million eight hundred and twenty-five thousand oaths; which number of shillings makes the yearly sum of £91,250.