"No sooner, was the queen dead," says he, "and the king, as right required, proclaimed, but the rage of men increased upon me to that degree, that their threats were such as I am unable to express. Though I have written nothing since the queen's death; yet, a great many things are called by my name, and I bear the answerers' insults. I have not seen or spoken with the earl of Oxford," continues he, "since the king's landing, but once; yet he bears the reproach of my writing for him, and I the rage of men for doing it." De Foe appears indeed to have been, at that noisy period, stunned by factious clamour, and overborne, though not silenced, by unmerited obloquy. He probably lost his original appointment, when his first benefactor was finally expelled. Instead of meeting with reward for his zealous services in support of the protestant succession, he was, on the accession of George I., discountenanced by those who had derived a benefit from his active exertions. And of Addison, who was now exalted into office, and enjoyed literary patronage, our author had said in his Double Welcome to the Duke of Marlborough, with less poetry than truth: Mæcenas has his modern fancy strung, And fix'd his pension first, or he had never sung. While thus insulted by enemies, and discountenanced by power, De Foe published his Appeal to Honour and Justice, in 1715; being a true Account of his Conduct in Public Affairs. As a motive for this intrepid measure, he affectingly says, that "by the hints of mortality and the infirmities of a life of sorrow and fatigue, I have reason to think, that I am very near to the great ocean of eternity, and the time may not be long ere I embark on the last voyage: wherefore I think I should even accounts with this world before I go, that no slanders may lie against my heirs, to disturb them in the peaceable possession of their father's inheritance, his character." It is a circumstance perhaps unexampled in the life of any other writer, that before he could finish his Appeal, he was struck with apoplexy. After languishing more than six weeks, neither able to go on, nor likely to recover, his friends thought fit to delay the publication no longer. "It is the opinion of most who know him," says Baker, the publisher, "that the treatment which he here complains of, and others of which he would have spoken, have been the cause of this disaster." When the ardent mind of De Foe reflected on what he had done, and what he had suffered, how he had been rewarded and persecuted, his heart melted in despair. His spirit, like a candle struggling in the socket, blazed and sunk, and blazed and sunk, till it disappeared in darkness.