wretch to such an action. I have not heard whether his wounds are dangerous; but I pray God he may recover to receive his reward, and that we may learn the bottom of his villany. It is not above ten days ago that I was interceding with the secretary in his behalf, because I heard he was just starving; but the secretary assured me he had 400£ a-year pension.

CVIII.

This singularly impressive and eloquent letter was addressed to Lord Oxford on the occasion of the death of his daughter, the Marchioness of Carmarthen, after her confinement Nov. 20, 1713, aged twenty-eight. It does far more honour to the great Dean than any of those more pretentious satirical compositions which are in everybody's hands, and which have made his name immortal.

Dean Swift to Lord-Treasurer Oxford.

November 21, 1713.

My Lord,-Your lordship is the person in the world to whom everybody ought to be silent upon such an occasion as this, which is only to be supported by the greatest wisdom and strength of mind: wherein, God knows, the wisest and best of us, who would presume to offer their thoughts, are far your inferiors. It is true, indeed, that a great misfortune is apt to weaken the mind and disturb the understanding. This, indeed, might be of some pretence to us to administer our consolations, if we had been wholly strangers to the person gone. But, my lord, whoever had the honour to know her, wants a comforter as much as your lordship: because, though their loss is not so great, yet they have not the same firmness and prudence to support the want of a friend, a patroness, a benefactor, as you have to support that of a daughter. My lord, both religion and reason forbid me to have the least concern for that lady's death upon her own account; and he must be an ill Christian, or a perfect stranger to her virtues, who would not wish himself, with all submission to God Almighty's will, in her condition. But your lordship, who has lost such a daughter, and we, who have lost such a friend, and the world, which has lost such an example, have, in our several degrees, greater cause to lament than perhaps was ever given by any private person before: for, my lord, I have sat down to think of every amiable quality

that could enter into the composition of a lady, and could not single out one which she did not possess in as high a perfection as human nature is capable of. But as to your lordship's own particular, as it is an inconceivable misfortune to have lost such a daughter, so it is a possession which few can boast of to have had such a daughter. I have often said to your lordship That I never knew any one by many degrees so happy in their domestics as you ;' and I affirm you are so still, though not by so many degrees: from whence it is very obvious that your lordship should reflect upon what you have left, and not upon what you have lost.

To say the truth, my lord, you began to be too happy for a mortal; much more happy than is usual with the dispensations of Providence long to continue. You had been the great instrument of preserving your country from foreign and domestic ruin you have had the felicity of establishing your family in the greatest lustre, without any obligation to the bounty of your prince, or any industry of your own: you have triumphed over the violence and treachery of your enemies by your courage and abilities: and, by the steadiness of your temper, over the inconstancy and caprice of your friends. Perhaps your lordship has felt too much complacency within yourself upon this universal success: and God Almighty, who would not disappoint your endeavours for the public, thought fit to punish you with a domestic loss, where he knew your heart was most exposed; and, at the same time, has fulfilled his own wise purposes, by rewarding in a better life that excellent creature he has taken from you.

I know not, my lord, why I write this to you, nor hardly what I am writing. I am sure it is not from any compliance with form; it is not from thinking that I can give your lordship any ease. I think it was an impulse upon me that I should say something: and whether I shall send you what I have written I am yet in doubt.

JONATHAN SWIFT.

CIX.

This is perhaps the most beautiful to be found among the printed letters of Swift. The unusual tenderness of its tone may be attributed to the great domestic calamity which the writer was almost every hour fearing would befall himself-the death of Stella.

Dean Swift to Mrs. Moore.

Deanery House: December 27, 1727.

Dear Madam,-Though I see you seldomer than is agreeable to my inclinations, yet you have no friend in the world that is more concerned for anything that can affect your mind, your health, or your fortune: I have always had the highest esteem for your virtue, the greatest value for your conversation, and the truest affection for your person; and therefore cannot but heartily condole with you for the loss of so amiable, and (what is more) so favourite a child. These are the necessary consequences of too strong attachments, by which we are grieving ourselves with the death of those we love, as we must one day grieve those who love us with the death of ourselves. For life is a tragedy, wherein we sit as spectators awhile, and then act our own part in its self-love, as it is the motive to all our actions, so it is the sole cause of our grief. The dear person you lament is by no means an object of pity, either in a moral or religious sense. Philosophy always taught me to despise life, as a most contemptible thing in itself; and religion regards it only as a preparation for a better, which you are taught to be certain that so innocent a person is now in possession of; so that she is an immense gainer, and you and her friends the only losers. Now, under misfortunes of this kind, I know no consolation more effectual to a reasonable person than to reflect rather upon what is left than what is lost. She was neither an only child nor an only daughter. You have three children left, one (Charles Devenish, Esq.) of them of an age to be useful to his family, and the two others as promising as can be expected from heir age; so that, according to the general dispensations of God Almighty, you have small reason to repine upon that article of life.

And religion will tell you that the true way to preserve them is, not to fix any of them too deep in your heart, which is a weakness that God seldom leaves long unpunished: common observation showing us that such favourite children are either spoiled by their parents' indulgence, or soon taken out of the world; which last is, generally speaking, the lighter punishment of the two. God, in his wisdom, hath been pleased to load our declining years with many sufferings, with diseases and distress of

nature; with the death of many friends, and the ingratitude of more; sometimes with the loss or diminution of our fortunes, when our infirmities most need them; often with contempt from the world, and always with neglect from it; with the death of our most hopeful or useful children; with a want of relish for all worldly enjoyments; with a general dislike of persons and things; and though all these are very natural effects of increasing years, yet they were intended by the author of our being to wean us gradually from our fondness of life, the nearer we approach toward the end of it. And this is the use you are to make in prudence, as well as in conscience, of all the afflictions you have hitherto undergone, as well as of those which in the course of nature and providence you have reason to expect. May God, who hath endowed you with so many virtues, add strength of mind and reliance upon his mercy, in proportion to your present sufferings, as well as those he may think fit to try you with through the remainder of your life. I fear my present ill disposition, both of health and mind, has made me but a sorry comforter: however it will show that no circumstance of life can put you out of my mind, and that I am, with the truest respect, esteem, and friendship, dear Madam, your most obedient and humble servant,

JONATHAN SWIFT.

CX.

In this letter which refers to the writer's celebrated partyhistory entitled 'The Four Last Years of Queen Anne's Reign,' Swift recalls the particulars of the quarrels between Lords Oxford and Bolingbroke in 1713-1714. Interesting historically, it is scarcely less interesting from a literary point of view. "There is,' says Lord Stanhope, 'something very mournful and affecting in the tone of these recollections of his friends.' He might have added, and something very charming in the mellow beauty of the composition.

Dean Swift to the Earl of Oxford.

June 14, 1737. My Lord, I had the honour of a letter from your lordship, dated April the 7th which I was not prepared to answer until this time. Your lordship must needs have known that the history you mention of the Four last years of the Queen's Reign,' was written at Windsor, just upon finishing the peace; at which time your

father and my lord Bolingbroke had a misunderstanding with each other that was attended with very bad consequences. When I came to Ireland to take this deanery (after the peace was made) I could not stay here above a fortnight being recalled by a hundred letters to hasten back, and to use my endeavours in reconciling those ministers. I left them the history you mention, which I finished at Windsor, to the time of the peace. When I returned to England I found their quarrels and coldness increased. I laboured to reconcile them as much as I was able: I contrived to bring them to my lord Masham's, at St. James's. My lord and lady Masham left us together. I expostulated with them both, but could not find any good consequences. I was to go to Windsor next day with my Lord-treasurer; I pretended business that prevented me: expecting they would come to some. . . . But I followed them to Windsor; where my lord Bolingbroke told me that my scheme had come to nothing. Things went on at the same rate; they grew more estranged every day. My lord-treasurer found his credit daily declining. In May before the queen died I had my last meeting with them at my lord Masham's. He left us together; and therefore I spoke very freely to them both and told them 'I would retire, for I found all was gone.' Lord Bolingbroke whispered me, 'I was in the right.' Your father said All would do well.' I told him that I would go to Oxford on Monday, since I found it was impossible to be of any use.' I took coach to Oxford on Monday; went to a friend in Berkshire there stayed until the queen's death; and then to my station here where I stayed twelve years, and never saw my lord your father afterward. They could not agree about printing the 'History of the Four last Years:' and therefore I have kept it to this time when I determine to publish it in London, to the confusion of all those rascals who have accused the queen and that ministry of making a bad peace; to which that party entirely owes the protestant succession. I was then in the greatest trust and confidence with your father the lord-treasurer, as well as with my lord Bolingbroke, and all others who had part in the administration. I had all the letters from the secretary's office during the treaty of peace out of those, and what I learned from the ministry, I formed that history, which I am now going to publish for the information of posterity, and to control the most impudent falsehoods which