“Confederacies difficult; why.
“Seldom in war a match for single persons — nor in peace;
therefore kings make themselves absolute. Confederacies in
learning — every great work the work of one. Bruy.
Scholars’ friendship like ladies. Scribebamus, &c. Mart. The
apple of discord — the poverty of criticism. Swift’s
opinion of the power of six geniuses united. That union scarce
possible. His remarks just; — man a social, not steady
nature. Drawn to man by words, repelled by passions. Orb drawn
by attraction, rep. [repelled] by centrifugal.
|
|
“Common danger unites by crushing other passions — but
they return. Equality hinders compliance. Superiority produces
insolence and envy. Too much regard in each to private interest:
— too little.
|
|
“The mischiefs of private and exclusive societies. — The
fitness of social attraction diffused through the whole. The
mischiefs of too partial love of our country. Contraction of
moral duties — oi philoi, ou philos.
|
|
“Every man moves upon his own center, and therefore repels
others from too near a contact, though he may comply with some
general laws.
|
|
“Of confederacy with superiors every one knows the
inconvenience. With equals, no authority; — every man his
own opinion — his own interest.
|
|
“Man and wife hardly united; — scarce ever without
children. Computation, if two to one against two, how many
against five? If confederacies were easy — useless;
— many oppresses many. — If possible only to some,
dangerous. Principum amicitias.”
|
|
[9] Here we see the
embryo of Number 45 of the Adventurer; and it is a confirmation
of what I shall presently have occasion to mention, that the
papers in that collection marked T. were written by Johnson. |
|
[10] This scanty
preparation of materials will not, however, much diminish our
wonder at the extraordinary fertility of his mind; for the
proportion which they bear to the number of essays which he
wrote, is very small; and it is remarkable, that those for which
he had made no preparation, are as rich and as highly finished,
as those for which the hints were lying by him. It is also to be
observed, that the papers formed from his hints are worked up
with such strength and elegance, that we almost lose sight of
the hints, which become like “drops in the bucket.” Indeed, in
several instances, he has made a very slender use of them, so
that many of them remain still unapplied.
| [11] As the Rambler
was entirely the work of one man, there was, of course, such a
uniformity in its texture, as very much to exclude the charm of
variety; and the grave and often solemn cast of thinking, which
distinguished it from other periodical papers, made it, for some
time, not generally liked. So slowly did this excellent work, of
which twelve editions have now issued from the press, gain upon
the world at large, that even in the closing number the authour
says, “I have never been much a favourite of the publick.” |
|
[12] Yet, very soon
after its commencement, there were who felt and acknowledged its
uncommon excellence. Verses in its praise appeared in the
newspapers; and the editor of the Gentleman’s Magazine mentions,
in October, his having received several letters to the same
purpose from the learned. “The Student, or Oxford and Cambridge
Miscellany,” in which Mr. Bonnell Thornton and Mr. Colman were
the principal writers, describes it as “a work that exceeds any
thing of the kind ever published in this kingdom, some of the
Spectators excepted, — if indeed they may be excepted.”
And afterwards, “May the publick favours crown his merits, and
may not the English, under the auspicious reign of George the
second, neglect a man, who, had he lived in the first century,
would have been one of the greatest favourites of Augustus.”
This flattery of the monarch had no effect. It is too well
known, that the second George never was an Augustus to learning
or genius. |
|
[13] Johnson told
me, with an amiable fondness, a little pleasing circumstance
relative to this work. Mrs. Johnson, in whose judgement and
taste he had great confidence, said to him, after a few numbers
of the Rambler had come out, “I thought very well of you before;
but I did not imagine you could have written any thing equal to
this.” Distant praise, from whatever quarter, is not so
delightful as that of a wife whom a man loves and esteems. Her
approbation may be said to “come home to his bosom”; and
being so near, its effect is most sensible and permanent. |
|
[14] Mr. James
Elphinston, who has since published various works, and who was
ever esteemed by Johnson as a worthy man, happened to be in
Scotland while the Rambler was coming out in single papers at
London. With a laudable zeal at once for the improvement of his
countrymen, and the reputation of his friend, he suggested and
took the charge of an edition of those Essays at Edinburgh,
which followed progressively the London publication. |
|
[15] The following
letter written at this time, though not dated, will show how
much pleased Johnson was with this publication, and what
kindness and regard he had for Mr. Elphinston. |
|
“To Mr. James Elphinston
|
|
[No date.
|
|
“Dear Sir
|
|
“I cannot but confess the failures of my correspondence, but
hope the same regard which you express for me on every other
occasion, will incline you to forgive me. I am often, very
often, ill; and, when I am well, am obliged to work: and,
indeed, have never much used myself to punctuality. You are,
however, not to make unkind inferences, when I forbear to reply
to your kindness; for be assured, I never receive a letter from
you without great pleasure, and a very warm sense of your
generosity and friendship, which I heartily blame myself for not
cultivating with more care. In this, as in many other cases, I
go wrong, in opposition to conviction; for I think scarce any
temporal good equally to be desired with the regard and
familiarity of worthy men. I hope we shall be some time nearer
to each other, and have a more ready way of pouring out our
hearts.
|
|
“I am glad that you still find encouragement to proceed in your
publication, and shall beg the favour of six more volumes to add
to my former six, when you can, with any convenience, send them
me. Please to present a set, in my name, to Mr. Ruddiman, of
whom, I hear, that his learning is not his highest excellence. I
have transcribed the mottos, and returned them, I hope not too
late, of which I think many very happily performed. Mr. Cave has
put the last in the magazine, in which I think he did well. I
beg of you to write soon, and to write often, and to write long
letters, which I hope in time to repay you; but you must be a
patient creditor. I have, however, this of gratitude, that I
think of you with regard, when I do not, perhaps, give the
proofs which I ought, of being, Sir.
|
|
“Your most obliged and
“Most humble servant.
“Sam. Johnson.”
|
|
[16] This year he
wrote to the same gentleman another letter upon a mournful
occasion. |
|
To Mr. James Elphinston
|
|
“September 25, 1750
|
|
“Dear Sir
|
|
“You have, as I find by every kind of evidence, lost an
excellent mother; and I hope you will not think me incapable of
partaking of your grief. I have a mother, now eighty-two years
of age, whom, therefore, I must soon lose, unless it please God
that she should rather mourn for me. I read the letters in which
you relate your mother’s death to Mrs. Strahan, and think I do
myself honour, when I tell you that I read them with tears; but
tears are neither to you nor to me of any farther
use, when once the tribute of nature has been paid. The business
of life summons us away from useless grief, and calls us to the
exercise of those virtues of which we are lamenting our
deprivation. The greatest benefit which one friend can confer
upon another, is to guard, and excite, and elevate, his virtues.
This your mother will still perform, if you diligently preserve
the memory of her life, and of her death: a life, so far as I
can learn, useful, wise, and innocent; and a death resigned,
peaceful, and holy. I cannot forbear to mention, that neither
reason nor revelation denies you to hope, that you may increase
her happiness by obeying her precepts; and that she may, in her
present state, look with pleasure upon every act of virtue to
which her instructions or example have contributed. Whether
this be more than a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of
separate spirits, is, indeed, of no great importance to us, when
we consider ourselves as acting under the eye of God: yet,
surely, there is something pleasing in the belief, that our
separation from those whom we love is merely corporeal; and it
may be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if it can be
made probable, that that union that has received the divine
approbation shall continue to eternity.
|
|
“There is one expedient by which you may, in some degree,
continue her presence. If you write down minutely what you
remember of her from your earliest years, you will read it with
great pleasure, and receive from it many hints of soothing
recollection, when time shall remove her yet farther from you,
and your grief shall be matured to veneration. To this, however
painful for the present, I cannot but advise you, as to a source
of comfort and satisfaction in the time to come; for all comfort
and all satisfaction is sincerely wished you by, dear Sir.
|
|
“Your most obliged, most obedient,
“And most humble servant.
“Sam. Johnson.”
|
|
[17] The Rambler has
increased in fame as in age. Soon after its first folio edition
was concluded, it was published in six duodecimo volumes; and
its authour lived to see ten numerous editions of it in London,
beside those of Ireland and Scotland. |
|
[18] I profess
myself to have ever entertained a profound veneration for the
astonishing force and vivacity of mind, which the Rambler
exhibits. That Johnson had penetration enough to see, and seeing
would not disguise the general misery of man in this state of
being, may have given rise to the superficial notion of his
being too stern a philosopher. But men of reflection will be
sensible that he has given a true representation of human
existence, and that he has, at the same time, with a generous
benevolence displayed every consolation which our state affords
us; not only those arising from the hopes of futurity, but such
as may be attained in the immediate progress through life. He
has not depressed the soul to despondency and indifference. He
has every where inculcated study, labour, and exertion. Nay, he
has shewn, in a very odious light, a man whose practice is to go
about darkening the views of others, by perpetual complaints of
evil, and awakening those considerations of danger and distress,
which are, for the most part, lulled into a quiet oblivion. This
he has done very strongly in his character of Suspirius, from
which Goldsmith took that of Croaker, in his comedy of “The
Good-natured Man,” as Johnson told me he acknowledged to him,
and which is, indeed, very obvious. |
|
[19] To point out
the numerous subjects which the Rambler treats, with a dignity
and perspicuity which are there united in a manner which we
shall in vain look for anywhere else, would take up too large a
portion of my book, and would, I trust, be superfluous,
considering how universally those volumes are now disseminated.
Even the most condensed and brilliant sentences which they
contain, and which have very properly been selected under the
name of “Beauties,” are of considerable bulk. But I may shortly
observe, that the Rambler furnishes such an assemblage of
discourses on practical religion and moral duty, of critical
investigations, and allegorical and oriental tales, that no mind
can be thought very deficient that has, by constant study and
meditation, assimilated to itself all that may be found there.
No. 7, written in Passion-week on abstraction and
self-examination, and No. 110, on penitence and the placability
of the Divine Nature, cannot be too often read. No. 54, on the
effect which the death of a friend should have upon us, though
rather too dispiriting, may be occasionally very medicinal to
the mind. Every one must suppose the writer to have been deeply
impressed by a real scene; but he told me that was not the case;
which shews how well his fancy could conduct him to the “house
of mourning.” Some of these more solemn papers, I doubt not,
particularly attracted the notice of Dr. Young, the authour of
“The Night Thoughts,” of whom my estimation is such, as to
reckon his applause an honour even to Johnson. I have seen
volumes of Dr. Young’s copy of the Rambler, in which he has
marked the passages which he thought particularly excellent, by
folding down a corner of the page; and such as he rated in a
super-eminent degree are marked by double folds. I am sorry that
some of the volumes are lost. Johnson was pleased when told of
the minute attention with which Young had signified his
approbation of his Essays. |
|
[20] I will venture
to say, that in no writings whatever can be found more bark
and steel for the mind, if I may use the expression; more
that can brace and invigorate every manly and noble sentiment.
No. 32 on patience, even under extreme misery, is wonderfully
lofty, and as much above the rant of stoicism, as the Sun of
Revelation is brighter than the twilight of Pagan philosophy. I
never read the following sentence without feeling my frame
thrill: “I think there is some reason for questioning whether
the body and mind are not so proportioned, that the one can bear
all which can be inflicted on the other; whether virtue cannot
stand its ground as long as life, and whether a soul well
principled will not be sooner separated than subdued.” |
|
[21] Though
instruction be the predominant purpose of the Rambler, yet it is
enlivened with a considerable portion of amusement. Nothing can
be more erroneous than the notion which some persons have
entertained, that Johnson was then a retired authour, ignorant
of the world; and, of consequence, that he wrote only from his
imagination, when he described characters and manners. He said
to me, that before he wrote that work, he had been “running
about the world,” as he expressed it, more than almost any body;
and I have heard him relate, with much satisfaction, that
several of the characters in the Rambler were drawn so
naturally, that when it first circulated in numbers, a club in
one of the towns in Essex imagined themselves to be severally
exhibited in it, and were much incensed against a person who,
they suspected, had thus made them objects of publick notice;
nor were they quieted till authentick assurance was given them,
that the Rambler was written by a person who had never heard of
any one of them. Some of the characters are believed to have
been actually drawn from the life, particularly that of Prospero
from Garrick, who never entirely forgave its pointed satire. For
instances of fertility of fancy, and accurate description of
real life, I appeal to No. 19, a man who wanders from one
profession to another, with most plausible reason for every
change: No. 34, female fastidiousness and timorous refinement:
No. 82, a Virtuoso who has collected curiosities: No. 88, petty
modes of entertaining a company, and conciliating kindness: No.
182, fortune-hunting: No. 194–195, a tutor’s account of the
follies of his pupil: No. 197–198, legacy-hunting. He has given
a specimen of his nice observation of the mere external
appearances of life, in the following passage in No. 179,
against affectation, that frequent and most disgusting quality:
“He that stands to contemplate the crowds that fill the streets
of a populous city, will see many passengers, whose air and
motions it will be difficult to behold without contempt and
laughter; but if he examine what are the appearances that thus
powerfully excite his risibility, he will find among them
neither poverty nor disease, nor any involuntary or painful
defect. The disposition to derision and insult, is awakened by
the softness of foppery, the swell of insolence, the liveliness
of levity, or the solemnity of grandeur; by the sprightly trip,
the stately stalk, the formal strut, and the lofty mien; by
gestures intended to catch the eye, and by looks elaborately
formed as evidences of importance.” |
|
[22] Every page of
the Rambler shews a mind teeming with classical allusion and
poetical imagery: illustrations from other writers are, upon all
occasions, so ready, and mingle so easily in his periods, that
the whole appears of one uniform vivid texture. |
|
[23] The style of
this work has been censured by some shallow criticks as involved
and turgid, and abounding with antiquated and hard words. So
ill-founded is the first part of this objection, that I will
challenge all who may honour this book with a perusal, to point
out any English writer whose language conveys his meaning with
equal force and perspicuity. It must, indeed, be allowed, that
the structure of his sentences is expanded, and often has
somewhat of the inversion of Latin; and that he delighted to
express familiar thoughts in philosophical language; being in
this the reverse of Socrates, who, it is said, reduced
philosophy to the simplicity of common life. But us attend to
what he himself says in his concluding paper: “When common words
were less pleasing to the ear, or less distinct in their
signification, I have familiarised the terms of philosophy, by
applying them to popular ideas.” And, as to the second part of
this objection, upon a late careful revision of the work, I can
with confidence say, that it is amazing how few of those words,
for which it has been unjustly characterised, are actually to be
found in it; I am sure, not the proportion of one to each
paper. This idle charge has been echoed from one babbler to
another, who have confounded Johnson’s Essays with Johnson’s
Dictionary; and because he thought it right in a Lexicon of our
language to collect many words which had fallen into disuse, but
were supported by great authorities, it has been imagined that
all of this have been woven into his own compositions. That some
of them have been adopted by him unnecessarily, may, perhaps, be
allowed; but, in general they are evidently an advantage, for
without them his stately ideas would be confined and cramped.
“He that thinks with more extent than another, will want words
of larger meaning.” He once told me, that he had formed his
style upon that of Sir William Temple, and upon Chambers’s
Proposal for his Dictionary. He certainly was mistaken; or if he
imagined at first that he was imitating Temple, he was very
unsuccessful, for nothing can be more unlike than the simplicity
of Temple, and the richness of Johnson. Their styles differ as
plain cloth and brocade. Temple, indeed, seems equally erroneous
in supposing that he himself had formed his style upon Sandys’s
View of the State of Religion in the Western parts of the
World. |
|
[24] The style of
Johnson was, undoubtedly, much formed upon that of the great
writers in the last century, Hooker, Bacon, Sanderson, Hakewell,
and others; those “Giants,” as they were well
characterised by A Great Personage, whose authority, were I to name him,
would stamp a reverence on the opinion. |
|
[25] We may, with
the utmost propriety, apply to his learned style that passage of
Horace, a part of which he has taken as the motto to his
Dictionary: |
|
“Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti;
Audebit quæcumque parum splendoris habebunt
Et sine pondere erunt, et honore indigna ferentur,
Verba movere loco, quamvis invita recedant,
Et versentur adhuc intra penetralia Vestæ.
Obscurata diu populo bonus eruet, atque
Proferet in lucem speciosa vocabula rerum,
Quæ priscis memorata Catonibus atque Cethegis,
Nunc situs informis premit et deserta vetustas:
Adsciscet nova, quæ genitor produxerit usus:
Vehemens, et liquidus, puroque simillimus amni,
Fundet opes Latiumque beabit divite lingua.”
|
|
[26] To so great a
master of thinking, to one of such vast and various knowledge as
Johnson, might have been allowed a liberal indulgence of that
licence which Horace claims in another place: |
|
“ — Si forte necesse est
Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum,
Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis
Continget, dabiturque licentia sumpta pudenter:
Et nova fictaque nuper habebunt verba fidem, si
Græco fonte cadant, parce detorta. Quid autem
Cæcilio Plautoque dabit Romanus, ademptum
Virgilio Varioque? Ego cur, acquirere pauca
Si possum, invideor; cum lingua Catonis et Enni
Sermonem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum
Nomina protulerit? Licuit, semperque licebit
Signatum præsente nota producere nomen.”
|
|
[27] Yet Johnson
assured me, that he had not taken upon him to add more than four
or five words to the English language, of his own formation; and
he was very much offended at the general licence by no means
“modestly taken” in his time, not only to coin new words, but to
use many words in senses quite different from their established
meaning, and those frequently very fantastical. |
|
[28] Sir Thomas
Brown, whose Life Johnson wrote, was remarkably fond of
Anglo-Latin diction; and to his example we are to ascribe
Johnson’s sometimes indulging himself in this kind of
phraseology. Johnson’s comprehension of mind was the mould for
his language. Had his conceptions been narrower, his expression
would have been easier. His sentences have a dignified march;
and, it is certain, that his example has given a general
elevation to the language of his country, for many of our best
writers have approached very near to him; and, from the
influence which he has had upon our composition, scarcely any
thing is written now that is not better expressed than was usual
before he appeared to lead the national taste. |
|
[29] This
circumstance, the truth of which must strike every critical
reader, has been so happily enforced by Mr. Courtenay, in his
“Moral and Literary Character of Dr. Johnson,” that I cannot
prevail on myself to withhold it, notwithstanding his, perhaps,
too great partiality for one of his friends: |
|
“By nature’s gifts ordain’d mankind to rule,
He, like a Titian, form’d his brilliant school;
And taught congenial spirits to excel,
While from his lips impressive wisdom fell.
Our boasted Goldsmith felt the sovereign sway;
From him deriv’d the sweet, yet nervous lay.
To Fame’s proud cliff he bade our Raffaelle rise:
Hence Reynolds’ pen with Reynolds’ pencil vies.
With Johnson’s flame melodious Burney glows,
While the grand strain in smoother cadence flows.
And you, Malone, to critick learning dear,
Correct and elegant, refin’d though clear,
By studying him, acquir’d that classick taste,
Which high in Shakspeare’s fane thy statue plac’d.
Near Johnson Stevens stands, on scenick ground,
Acute, laborious, fertile, and profound.
Ingenious Hawkesworth to this school we owe,
And scarce the pupil from the tutor know.
Here early parts accomplish’d Jones sublimes,
And science blends with Asia’s lofty rhymes:
Harmonious Jones! who in his splendid strains
Sings Camdeo’s sports, on Agra’s flowery plains,
In Hindu fictions while we fondly trace
Love and the Muses, deck’d with Attick grace.
Amid these names can Boswell be forgot,
Scarce by North Britons now esteem’d a Scot?
Who to the sage devoted from his youth,
Imbib’d from him the sacred love of truth;
The keen research, the exercise of mind,
And that best art, the art to know mankind. —
Nor was his energy confin’d alone
To friends around his philosophick throne;
Its influence wide improv’d our letter’d isle,
And lucid vigour mark’d the general style:
As Nile’s proud waves, swoln from their oozy bed,
First o’er the neighbouring meads majestick spread;
Till gathering force, they more and more expand,
And with new virtue fertilise the land.”
|
|
[30] Johnson’s
language, however, must be allowed to be too masculine for the
delicate gentleness of female writing. His ladies, therefore,
seem strangely formal, even to ridicule; and are well
denominated by the names which he has given them, as Misella,
Zozima, Properantia, Rhodoclia. |
|
[31] It has of late
been the fashion to compare the style of Addison and Johnson,
and to depreciate, I think, very unjustly, the style of Addison
as nerveless and feeble, because it has not the strength and
energy of that of Johnson. Their prose may be balanced like the
poetry of Dryden and Pope. Both are excellent, though in
different ways. Addison writes with the ease of a gentleman.
His readers fancy that a wise and accomplished companion is
talking to them; so that he insinuates his sentiments and taste
into their minds by an imperceptible influence. Johnson writes
like a teacher. He dictates to his readers as if from an
academical chair. They attend with awe and admiration; and his
precepts are impressed upon them by his commanding eloquence.
Addison’s style, like a light wine, pleases everybody from the
first. Johnson’s, like a liquor of more body, seems too strong
at first, but, by degrees, is highly relished; and such is the
melody of his periods, so much do they captivate the ear, and
seize upon the attention, that there is scarcely any writer,
however inconsiderable, who does not aim, in some degree, at the
same species of excellence. But let us not ungratefully
undervalue that beautiful style, which has pleasingly conveyed
to us much instruction and entertainment. Though comparatively
weak, opposed to Johnson’s Herculean vigour, let us not call it
positively feeble. Let us remember the character of his style,
as given by Johnson himself: “What he attempted he performed:
he is never feeble, and he did not wish to be energetick;
he is never rapid, and he never stagnates. His sentences have
neither studied amplitude, nor affected brevity: his periods,
though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy. Whoever
wishes to attain an English style, familiar but not coarse, and
elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to
the volumes of Addison.” |
|
[32] Though the
Rambler was not concluded till the year 1752, I shall, under
this year, say all that I have to observe upon it. Some of the
translations of the mottos by himself, are admirably done. He
acknowledges to have received “elegant translations” of many of
them from Mr. James Elphinston; and some are very happily
translated by a Mr. F. Lewis, of whom I never heard more,
except that Johnson thus described him to Mr. Malone: “Sir, he
lived in London, and hung loose upon society.” The concluding
paper of his Rambler is at once dignified and pathetick. I
cannot, however, but wish, that he had not ended it with an
unnecessary Greek verse, translated also into an English
couplet. It is too much like the conceit of those dramatick
poets, who used to conclude each act with a rhyme; and the
expression in the first line of his couplet, “Celestial
powers,” though proper in Pagan poetry, is ill suited to
Christianity, with “a conformity” to which he consoles himself.
How much better would it have been, to have ended with the prose
sentence “I shall never envy the honours which wit and learning
obtain in any other cause, if I can be numbered among the
writers who have given ardour to virtue, and confidence to
truth.” |
|
[33] His friend,
Dr. Birch, being now engaged in preparing an edition of
Raleigh’s smaller pieces, Dr. Johnson wrote the following letter
to that gentleman: |
|
“To Dr. Birch
|
|
“Gough-square, May 12, 1750
|
|
“Sir
|
|
“Knowing that you are now preparing to favour the publick with a
new edition of Raleigh’s miscellaneous pieces, I have taken the
liberty to send you a Manuscript, which fell by chance within my
notice. I perceive no proofs of forgery in my examination of it;
and the owner tells me, that he has heard, the
hand-writing is Sir Walter’s. If you should find reason to
conclude it genuine, it will be a kindness to the owner, a blind
person, to recommend it to the booksellers. I am, Sir.
|
|
“Your most humble servant,
“Sam. Johnson.”
|
|
[34] His just
abhorrence of Milton’s political notions was ever strong. But
this did not prevent his warm admiration of Milton’s great
poetical merit, to which he has done illustrious justice, beyond
all who have written upon the subject. And this year he not only
wrote a Prologue, which was spoken by Mr. Garrick before the
acting of Comus at Drury-lane theatre, for the benefit of
Milton’s grand-daughter, but took a very zealous interest in the
success of the charity. On the day preceding the performance, he
published the following letter in the “General Advertiser,”
addressed to the printer of that paper: |
|
“Sir
|
|
“That a certain degree of reputation is acquired merely by
approving the works of genius, and testifying a regard to the
memory of authours, is a truth too evident to be denied; and
therefore to ensure a participation of fame with a celebrated
poet, many, who would, perhaps, have contributed to starve him
when alive, have heaped expensive pageants upon his grave.
|
|
“It must, indeed, be confessed, that this method of becoming
known to posterity with honour, is peculiar to the great, or at
least to the wealthy; but an opportunity now offers for almost
every individual to secure the praise of paying a just regard to
the illustrious dead, united with the pleasure of doing good to
the living. To assist industrious indigence, struggling with
distress and debilitated by age, is a display of virtue, and an
acquisition of happiness and honour.
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“Whoever, then, would be thought capable of pleasure in reading
the works of our incomparable Milton, and not so destitute of
gratitude as to refuse to lay out a trifle in rational and
elegant entertainment, for the benefit of his living remains,
for the exercise of their own virtue, the increase of their
reputation, and the pleasing consciousness of doing good, should
appear at Drury-lane theatre to-morrow, April 5, when Comus will
be performed for the benefit of Mrs. Elizabeth Foster,
grand-daughter to the authour, and the only surviving branch of
his family.
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“N.B. There will be a new prologue on the occasion, written by
the authour of Irene, and spoken by Mr. Garrick; and, by
particular desire, there will be added to the Masque a dramatick
satire, called Lethe, in which Mr. Garrick will perform.”
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