speech. He rose up, and walked about the room while he was able, with the greatest tranquillity, during the height of the confusion. When the surgeon came, he took him aside, and desired he would inform him freely whether the wound were mortal, because in that case, he said, he had some affairs to settle relating to his family. The blade of the penknife[1], broken by the violence of the blow against the rib, within a quarter of an inch of the handle, was dropt out (I know not whether from the wound, or his clothes) as the surgeon was going to dress him: he ordered it to be taken up, and wiping it himself, gave it some body to keep, saying, he thought it now properly belonged to him. He showed no sort of resentment, nor spoke one violent word against Guiscard, but appeared all the while the least concerned of any in the company; a state of mind, which, in such an exigency, nothing but innocence can give, and is truly worthy of a Christian philosopher.
If there be really so great a difference in principle, between the high-flying whigs and the friends of France, I cannot but repeat the question, how came they to join in the destruction of the same man? can his death be possibly for the interest of both? or have they both the same quarrel against him, that he is perpetually discovering and preventing the treacherous designs of our enemies? However it be, this great minister may now say with St. Paul, that he has been in perils by his own countrymen, and in perils by strangers.
- ↑ The penknife, which had a tortoiseshell handle, was given by Mr. Harley to Dr. Swift; who had the broken blade joined by a silver chain, some years after, in Dublin.
