that in one evening-sitting, he has produced a dozen of his libels wholly against me; desiring I might be told of it, and assuring those gentlemen that the whole dozen should be published, if I would not let him alone. This was a little hard upon me, who had never one single moment in my life the least inclination to enter the lists with him, at those or any other weapons whatsoever, any more than I would venture to sit four hours disputing with him any point of controversy. I confess this keenness of the doctor in determining, whenever he was attacked, to fix on me for his adversary, inclined me to conceive that he might have probably writ this last paper, and other people had the same thought; but I hear he hath utterly denied it; and I believe him: for I am confident he is an honest man, but unhappily misled, through the whole course of his life, by mistaking his talent, which he hath, against nature, applied to wit and raillery, and rhyming: besides which, his incurable absence of mind on all occasions, and in all companies, hath led him into ten thousand errors, especially of that kind, which are mortal to all agreeable or improving conversation, and which hath put him upon such a foot with every friend, that I heartily lament the situation he is in.

I entreat your pardon for the length and insignificancy of this letter, but my solitary way of life is apt to make me talkative upon paper. I desire you

would believe, first, that I have so frequently been libelled, that my curiosity to know the authors is quite extinct, though that of some friends is not; secondly, that I am not hasty in judging of men's style, or matter, or malice. I can venture to say, that a thing is not written by such a person, because it is much below his good sense; and to look among the herd of dunces is endless. As to yourself, I hope you will be my witness that I have always

treated you with particular distinction; and if we differ in opinions relating to public proceedings, it is for very good reasons: you are an expectant from the world and from power; I have long done with both having been an original offender against all principles set up since the death of the queen, I could not think it worth my while to quit my old ones, and must have done it with an ill grace, though honour and conscience had been out of the question. Whoever really believes that things are well, is many ways happy; he is pleased with the world, (as I was formerly,) and the world with him; his merit is allowed, and favour will certainly follow; which I heartily wish you, only desiring, that in what appears to my eyes a very dirty road, you would pick out the cleanest stages you can; and believe me to be, with much esteem, Sir,

Your most obedient humble servant,

J. S.

FROM LADY CATHERINE JONES.

June 15, 1732.

THE return of my humble thanks to Mr. Dean by the date it bears, looks more like a slumber of gratitude, than the quick sense of that rare virtue which I owe to you, sir, for the trouble you have so willingly undertaken, in executing what I so much desired; since the manner you have done it in, answers my wishes in every respect. The proposal you made, I acquainted my sister Kildare, and niece Fanny Coningsby with; for I being but one part of the family, cannot act farther than they will consent,

which is, that they will settle twenty shillings per year, that you may never be liable to any more trouble upon the same occasion.*

I need not inform Mr. Dean, that the world teaches us, that relations and friends look like two different species: and though I have the honour to be allied to my Lord Burlington, yet since the death of my good father and his, the notice he takes of me is, as if I was a separated blood; or else, I am vain enough to say, we are sprung from one ancestor, whose ashes keep up a greater lustre than those who are not reduced to it.

I cannot conclude without saying, that were I worthy, in any way, to have the pleasure of seeing Dean Swift, I do not know any passion, even envy would not make innocent, in my ambition of seeing the author of so much wit and judicious writing, as I have had the advantage to reap.

Your most humble and obliged servant,

CATHARINE JONES.

Your opinion of Mr. French † is just, and his due.

TO MR. GAY AND THE DUCHESS OF

QUEENSBERRY.

Dublin, July 10, 1732.

I HAD your letter by Mr. Ryves, a long time after the date, for I suppose he staid long in the way. I

* For the purpose of keeping in repair the monument of her grandfather, Archbishop Jones.

Humphrey French, lord-mayor of Dublin.

am glad you determine upon something; there is no writing I esteem more than fables, nor anything so difficult to succeed in; which, however, you have done excellently well, and I have often admired your happiness in such a kind of performances, which I have frequently endeavoured at in vain. I remember I acted as you seem to hint; I found a moral first, and studied for a fable, but could do nothing that pleased me, and so left off that scheme for ever. I remember one, which was to represent what scoundrels rise in armies by a long war, wherein I supposed the lion was engaged; and having lost all his animals of worth, at last Serjeant Hog came to be brigadier, and Corporal Ass a colonel, &c. I I agree with you likewise about getting something by the stage, which, when it succeeds, is the best crop for poetry in England: but pray, take some new scheme, quite different from anything you have already touched. The present humour of the players, who hardly (as I was told in London) regard any new play, and your present situation at the court, are the difficulties to be overcome; but those circumstances may have altered (at least the former) since I left you. My scheme was to pass a month at Amesbury, and then go to Twickenham, and live a winter between that and Dawley, and sometimes at Riskins, without going to London, where I now can have no occasional lodgings; but I am not yet in any condition for such removals. I would fain have you get enough against you grow old, to have two or three servants about you and a convenient house. It is hard to want those subsidia senectuti, when a man grows hard to please, and few people care whether he be pleased or not. I have a large house, yet I should hardly prevail to find one visitor, if I were not able to hire him with a bottle of wine: so that, when I am not abroad on horseback, I

generally dine alone, and am thankful if a friend will pass the evening with me. I am now with the remainder of my pint before me, and so here's your health-and the second and chief is to my Tunbridge acquaintance, my lady duchess-and I tell you that I fear my Lord Bolingbroke and Mr. Pope (a couple of philosophers) would starve me, for even of port wine I should require half a pint a-day, and as much at night: and you were growing as bad, unless your duke and duchess have mended you. Your colic is owing to intemperance of the philosophical kind; you eat without care, and if you drink. less than I, you drink too little. But your inattention I cannot pardon, because I imagined the cause was removed, for I thought it lay in your forty millions of schemes by court hopes and court fears. Yet Mr. Pope has the same defect, and it is of all others the most mortal to conversation: neither is my Lord Bolingbroke untinged with it all for want of my rule, Vive la bagatelle! but the doctor is the king of inattention! What a vexatious life should I lead among you! If the duchess be a rêveuse, I will never go to Amesbury; or, if I do, I will run away from you both, to one of her women, and the steward and chaplain.

MADAM,

I MENTIONED Something to Mr. Gay of a Tunbridge acquaintance, whom we forget of course when we return to town, and yet I am assured that if they meet again next summer, they have a better title to resume their commerce. Thus I look on my right of corresponding with your grace to be better established upon your return to Amesbury; and I shall at this time descend to forget, or at least suspend, my resentments of your neglect all the time you were in London. I still keep in my heart, that Mr.