and his splendid simulation of moral indignation and
moral purpose. Less known, but more esteemed than any of them where he
was known, was Dr Arbuthnot--a physician of skill, as some extant medical
works prove--a man of science, and author of an "Essay on the Usefulness
of Mathematical Learning"--a scholar, as evinced by his examination of
Woodward's "Account of the Deluge," his treatise on "Ancient Coins and
Medals," and that on the "Altercation or Scolding of the Ancients"--a
wit, whose grave irony, keen perception of the ridiculous, and magical
power of turning the lead of learning into the most fine gold of humour,
exhibited in his "Martinus Scriblerus," his "Epitaph on the notorious
Colonel Chartres," and his "History of John Bull," still extract shouts,
screams, and tears of mirth from thousands who scarce know the author's
name--a politician without malice or self-seeking--and, best of all,
a man without guile, and a Christian without cant. He, although a
physician, was in effect the chaplain of the corps, and had enough to do
in keeping them within due bounds; nay, is said on his deathbed to have
called Pope to him, and given him serious advice in reference to the
direction of his talents, and the restraint of his muse. Prior, though
inferior to these, was no common man; and to learning, wit, and
tale-telling power, added skill and energy in the conduct of public
affairs. And last, (for Parnell, though beloved by this circle, could
hardly be said to belong to it,) there was Gay, whom the others agreed
to love and laugh at, who stood in much the same relation to the wits of
Anne as Goldsmith did to those of George III., being at once their fool
and their fondling; who, like Goldsmith, was
"In wit a man--simplicity a child;"
and who though he could not stab and sneer, and create new worlds more
laughable than even this, like Swift, nor declaim and sap faith, like
Bolingbroke, nor rhyme and glitter like Pope, nor discourse on medals and
write comical "Pilgrims' Progresses" like Arbuthnot, nor pour out floods
of learning like Prior in "Alma," could do things which they in their
turn never equalled, (even as in Emerson's poem, "The Mountain and the
Squirrel," the latter wisely remarks to the former--
"I cannot carry forests on my back,
But neither can you crack a nut,")
could give a fabulous excellence to the construction and management of
the "Fable;" extract interest from street crossings and scavenge
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