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used with notice of their vanity; but they con- | impressed. But the passions are moved only on tribute variety to the narration, and produce one occasion ; sublimity is the general and proan alternate exercise of the memory and the vailing quality of this poem; sublimity variously fancy.

modified, sometimes descriptive, sometimes ar j His similes are less numerous, and more var gumentative. ous, than those of his predecessors. But he does The defects and faults of “Paradise Lost,” not confine himself within the limits of rigorous for faults and defects every work of man must comparison : his great excellence is amplitude; have, it is the business of impartial criticism to and he expands the adventitious image beyond discover. As, in displaying the excellence of the dimensions which the occasion required. Milton, I have not made long quotations, beThus, comparing the shield of Satan to the orb cause of selecting beauties there had been no of the moon, he crowds the imagination with the end, I shall in the same general manner mention discovery of the telescope, and all the wonders that which seems to deserve censure; for what which the telescope discovers.

Englishman can take delight in transcribing Of his moral sentiments it is hardly praise to passages, which, if they lessen the reputation of affirm that they excel those of all other poets ; Milton, diminish in some degree the honour of for this superiority he was indebted to his ac- our country ? quaintance with the sacred writings. The an- The generality of my scheme does not admit rient epic poets, wanting the light of Revelation, the frequent notice of verbal inaccuracies : which were very unskilful teachers of virtue ; their Bentley, perhaps better skilled in grammar than principal characters may be great, but they are in poetry, has often found, though he sometimes not amiable. The reader may rise from their made them, and which he imputed to the obtruworks with a greater degree of active or passive sions of a reviser, whom the Author's blindness fortitude, and sometimes of prudence; but he obliged him to employ; a supposition rash and will be able to carry away few precepts of justice, groundless, if he thought it true; and vile and and none of mercy.

pernicious, if, as is said, he in private allowed it From the Italian writers it appears, that the to be false. advantages of even christian knowledge may be The plan of “Paradise Lost” has this incon. possessed in vain. Ariosto's pravity is gene- venience, that it comprises neither human actions rally known ; and, though the Deliverance of nor human manners.* The man and woman Jerusalem may be considered as a sacred suh- who act and suffer are in a state which no other ject, the poet has been very sparing of moral in- man or woman can ever know. The reader struction.

finds no transaction in which he can be engaged; In Milton every line breathes sanctity of beholds no condition in which he can by any thought and purity of manners, except when the effort of imagination place himself; he has, train of the narration requires the introduction of therefore, little natural curiosity or sympathy: the rebellious spirits ; and even they are com- We all, indeed, feel the effects of Adam's disa pelled to acknowledge their subjection to God, obedience; we all sin like Adam, and like him in such a manner as excites reverence and con- must all bewail our offences; we have restless firms piety.

and insidious enemies in the fallen angels; and Of human beings there are but two; but those in the blessed spirits we have guardians and two are the parents of mankind, venerable before friends ; in the redemption of mankind we hope their fall for dignity and innocence, and amiable to be included ; and in the description of heaven after it for their repentance and submission. In and hell we are surely interested, as we are all the first state their affection is tender without to reside hereafter either in the regions of horror weakness, and their piety sublime without pre- or of bliss. sumption. When they have sinned, they show But these truths are too important to be new; how discord begins in mutual frailty, and how it they have been taught to our infancy; they ought to cease in mutual forbearance; how con- have mingled with our solitary thoughts and fa. fidence of the Divine favour is forfeited by sin, miliar conversations, and are habitually interand bow hope of pardon may be obtained by woven with the whole texture of life. Being penitence and prayer. A state of innocence we therefore not new, they raise no unaccustomed can only conceive, if indeed, in our present mis emotion in the mind ; what we knew before, we ery, it be possible to conceive it ; but the senti- cannot learn; what is not unexpected, cannot ments and worship proper to a fallen and offend surprise. ing being, we have all to learn, as we have all Of the ideas suggested by these awful scenes, to practise.

from some we recede with reverence, except The Poel, whatever be done, is always great. when stated ours require their association; Our progenitors, in their first estate, conversed and from others we shrink with horror, or ad with angels; even when folly and sin had degra- mit them only as salutary inflictions, as coun. ded them, they had not in their humiliation the terpoises to our interests and passions. Such port of mean suitors; and they rise again to reve- images rather obstruct the career of fancy than rential regard, when we find that their prayers

incite it. were heard.

Pleasure and terror are, indeed, the genuine As human passions did not enter the world sources of poetry; but poetical pleasure must be before the fall, there is in the "Paradise Lost" such as human imagination can at least con. little opportunity for the pathetic ; but what little ceive; and poetical terror such as human strength therr is las not been lost. That passion which and fortitude may combat. The good and evil is peculiar to rational nature, the anguish arising of eternity are too ponderous for the wings of from the consciousness of transgression, and the borrors attending the sense of the Divine dis

* But, says Dr. Warton, it has throughout & reference pleasure, are very justly described and forcibly to human life and actions...c.

66

wit; the mind sinks under them with passive, for contraction and remove are images of matter , helplessness, content with calm belief and hum- but if they could have escaped without their ble adoration.

armour, they might have escaped from it, and left Known truths, however, may take a different only the empty cover to be battered. Criel, appearance, and be conveyed to the mind by a when he rides on a sunbeam, is material; Satan new train of intermediate images. This Milion is material, when he is afraid of the prowess of has undertakon, and performed with pregnancy

Adam. and vigour of mind peculiar to bimself. Who- The confusion of spirit and matter which perever considers the few radical positions which vades the whole narration of the war of heaven, the Scriptures afforded him, will wonder by what fills it with incongruity; and the book in which energetic operation be expanded them to such it is related is, I believe, the favourite of children, extent, and ramified them to so much variety, and gradually neglected as knowledge is in restrained as he was by religious reverence from creased. licentiousness of fiction.

After the operation of immaterial agents which Here is a full display of the united force of cannot be explained, may be considered that of study and genius ; ot ö great accumulation of allegorical persons which have no real existence. materials, with judgment to digest, and fancy to To exalt causes into agents, to invest abstract combine them: Milton was able to select from ideas with form, and animate them with activity, nature, or from story, froin ancient fable, or has always been the right of poetry. But such from modern science, whatever could illustrate airy beings are, for the most part, suffered only to or adorn bis thoughts. An accumulation of do their natural office, and retire. Thus Fame knowledgo impregnated his mind, fermented by tells a tale, and Victory hovers over a general, or study, and exalted hy imagination.

perches on a standard; but Fame and Victory It has been therefore said, without an indecent can do no more. To give them any real employhyperbolc, by one of his encomiasts, that in ment, or ascribe to them any material agency, is reading “Paradise Lost,” we read a book of to make them allegorical no longer, but to shock universal knowledge.

the mind by ascribing effects to nonentity. In the But original deficience cannot be supplied. Prometheus” of Eschylus, we see Violence The want of human interest is always felt. and Strength, and in the “ Alcestis” of Euripides, " Paradise Lost” is one of the books which the we see Death, brought upon the stage, all as active reader almires and lays down, and forgets to persons of the drama ; but no precedents can take up again. None ever wished it longer justify absurdity. than it is. Its perusal is a duty rather than a

Milton's allegory of Sin and Death, is unpleasure. We read Milton for instruction, re- doubtedly faulty. Sin is indeed the mother of tire harrassed and overburthened, and look else. Death, and may be allowed to be the portress of where for recreation; we desert our master, and bell; but when they stop the journey of Satan, a seek for companions.

journey described as real, and when Death offers Another inconvenience of Milton's design is, him battle, the allegory is broken. That Sin and that it requires the description of what cannot be Death should have shown the way tv hell, might described, the agency of spirits. He saw that have been allowed; but they cannot facilitare ihe immateriality supplied no images, and that he passage by building a bridge, because the difficould not show angels acting but by instruments culty of Satan's passage is described as real and of action: he therefore invest d them with form sensible, and the bridge ought to be only figuraand matter. This, being necessary, was there tive. The hell assigned to the rebellious spirits is fore detensible; and he should have secured the described as not less local than the residence of consistency of his system, by keeping immate- man, It is placed in some distant part of space, riality out of sight, and enticing his reader to drop separated from the regions of harmony and order, it from his thoughts. But he has unhappily per- by a chaotic waste and an unoccupied vacuity plexed his poetry with his philosophy. His in- but Si and Death worked up a mole of aggravaleủ fernal and celestial powers are sometimes pure suil, cemented with asphaltus ; a work too bulky spirit, and sometimes animated body. When for ideal architects. Satan walks with his lance upon the burning

This unskiltul allegory appears to me onc of marl, he has a body; when, in his passage be- the greatest faults of the poem; and to this there tween hell and the new world, he is in danger of was no temptation but the Author's opinion of its sinking in the vacuity, and is supported by a gust beauty; of rising vapours, he has a body; when he ani- To the conduct of the narrative some objections mates the toad, he seems to be mere spirit, that may be made. Satan is with great expectation can penetrate matter at pleasure ; when he starts brought before Gabriel in paradise, and is sutup in his own shape, he has at least a determined fered to go away unmolested. The creation of form; and when he is brought before Gabriel, he man is represented as the consequence of the has a spear and a shield, which he had the power vacuity leit in heaven by the expulsion of the of hiding in the toad, though the arms of the con- rebels; yet Satan mentions it as a report rise in tending angels are evidently material.

heaven before his departure. The vulgar inhabitants of Pandemonium, being To find sentiments for the state of innocence incorporeal spirits, are at large, though without was very difficult; and something of anticipation, number, in a limited space; yet in the battle, when perhaps, is now and then discovered. Adam's they were overwhelmed by mountains, their armour discourse of dreams seems not to be the speculahurt them, crushed in upon their substance, nor tion of a new-created being. I know not whether grown gross by sinning. This likewise happened his answer to the angel's reproof for curiosity does to the uncorrupted angels, who were overthrown not want something of propriety ; it is the speech the sooner for their arnis, for unarmed they might of a man acquainted with many other men. casily as spirits have evaded by contraction or re- Some philosophical notions, especially when the

Even as spirits they are hardly spiritual; ) philosophy is false, might have been better omitted.

mune.

toas.

The angel, in a conparison, speaks of timorous Through all his greater works there prevails a deer, before deer were yet timorous, and before uniform peculiarity of diction, a mode and cast of Adam could understand the comparison. expression which bears little resemblanco to that

Drydea rernurks, that Wilto: has some fats of any former writer; and which is so far removed among his elevations. This is only to say that froin common use, that an unlearned rcader, when all the parts are not equal. In every work one he first opens his book, finds himself surprised part wrist be for the sake of others; a palace by a new language. inust have passag=s; a poem must have transi- This novelty has been, by those who can find

It is no more to be required that wit should nothing wrong in Hilton, imputed to his laborious always be blazing, than that the sun should always endeavours after words suitable to the grandeui stand at noo), Iu a great work there is a vicis- of his ideas. "Our language," says Addison stude of luminous and opaque parts, as there is sunk under him." Bui the truth is, that, both in the world a succession of day and night. in prose and verse, he had formed his style by a Yllion, whea he has expatiated in the sky, may perverse and pedantic principle. He was desirous b. allowed sometimes to revisit carth ; for what to use English words with a foreign idiom. This other author ever soured so high, or s!stained his in all his prose is discovered and condemned; for Pigat so long!

there judgment operates freely, neither sostened hillon, being well versed in the Italian poets, by the beauty, nor awed hy the dignity, of his iippais to have borrowed often from them; and, thoughts; lui such is the power of his poetry, az every man catche's something fron his com- that his call is obeyed without resistance, the panions, his desire of imitating Ariosto’s levity/reader feels himself in captivity to a higher and a has disgraced his work with the " Paradise of nobler inind, and criticism sinks in adıniration. Fools ;" a fiction not in itself ill-imagined, but too Milton's style was not modified by his subject; Judicrous for its placa

what is shown with greater extent in “ Paradise His play on words, in which he delights too Lost,” may be found in « Comus." One source 0:1; his equivocatio:as, which Paailey endea- of his peculiarity was his familiarity with the yours to defend by the example of the ancients; Tuscan poets; the disposition of his words, is, I his unnecessary and ungracetil 150 of terms of think, frequently Italian; perhaps sometimes comart, it is not necessary to mention, because they bined with other tongues. cre easily remarked, and generally censured; Of him, at last, may be said what Jonson says ind at last bear so little proportion to the whole, of Spenser, that " he wrote no language,” but that they scarcely dese ve the attention of a critic. has formed what Bulier calls a “ Babylonish

Such are the fanits of that wonderfill perform- dialect,” in itself harsh and barbarous, but made a.ice, “ Paradise Lost ;" which he who can put by exalted genius and extensive learning the vein balance with its beauties must be considered bicle of so much instruction and so much pleano: as nice but as dull, as less to be censured for sure, that, like other lovers, we find grace in its want of candour, than pitied for want of sen- deformity. siblity.

Whatever be the faults of his diction, he can Of "Paradise Regained," the general judgment not want the praise of copiousness and variety : s3m3 now to b: right, that it is in many parts he was master of his language in its full extent; elegant, and every wrote instructive. It was not and has selected the melodious words with such to be supposed that the writer of " Paradise diligence, that from his book alone the art of Lost," conld ever writ- without great eftisions of English poetry might be learned. fancy, and exalted precepts of wisdom. The After his diction, something must be said of his basis of " Paradig. Regained,” is narrow; a dia rersifica'ion. “ The measure,” he says, “is the logue without artio i can never please like a union English heroic verse without rhyme." of this of the narrative and drarnatic powers. Had this mode he had many examples among the Italians, porn been written not by Milton, but by some and some in his own country. The Earl of imtitor, it would have clained and received uni- Surrey is said to have translated one of Virgil's yermal praise.

books without rhyme;* and, beside our tragedies, If - Paradise Regained" has been too much a few short poems had appeared in blank verse, d-preciated, “Samson Agonistes" las in requital particularly one tending to reconcile the nation to be too much admired. It could only be hy long Raleigh's wild attempt upon Guiana, and propreprice, and the bigotry of learning, that Milton bably written by Raleigh 'himself. These petty coil prefer the ancieat tragedies, with their en performances cannot be supposed to have much einbrance of a chorus, to the exhibitions of tho influenced Milton, who more probably took his Fracy and English stages; and it is only by a hint from Trissino's Italia Liberata; and, finding blud coobience in the reputation of Wilton, that blank verse easier than rhyme, was desirous of a dran can be praised in which the intermediate persuading himself that it is better. Pirts have neither cause nor consequence, neither “Rhynir," he says, and says truly, “is no hasta nor retard the catastrophe.

necessary arjunet of true poetry.” But, perIn this tragedy are, however, may particular haps, oi' poetry, is a mental operation, metre or bauties, nav just sentiments, and striking lines; music is no necessary adjunct : it is however by but it wants that power of attracting the attention the music of metre that poctry has been discrimiwich a well-connected plan produces.

nated in all languages ; and, in languages meIlton would not have excelled in dramatic lodiously constructed with a due proportion of witing: he knew human nature only in the gross, long and short syllables, metre is sufficient. But and had nerer studied the shades of character, one language cannot communicate its rules to aor the combinations of concurring, or the per- another; where metre is scanty and imperfect, plesity of contending, passions. He had read some help is necessary. The music of the Enoch and know what booky could teach; but had iningled little in the world, and was deficient

* The Earl of Surrey translated proo books of Virgi! is the ktowle1ge which exprience must confer. l without rhyme the secout al die fourth --J. B.

glish heroic lines strikes the ear so faintly, that is to be admired rather than imitated. He that it is easily lost, unless all the syllables of every thinks himself capable of astonishing may write line co-operate together; this co-operation can blank verse: but those that hope only to please he only obtained by the preservation of every must condescend to rhyme. verse unmingled with another as a distinct sys- The highest praise of genius is original inventem of sounds; and this distinctness is obtained tion. Milton cannot be said to have contrived and preserved by the artifice of rhyme. The the structure of an epic poem, and therefore owes variety of pauses, so much boasted by the lovers reverence to that vigour and amplitude of mind of blank verse, changes the measures of an En- to which all generations must be indebted for the glish poet to the periods of a declaimer; and there art of poetical narration, for the texture of the are only a few skilful and happy readers of Milton, fable, the variation of incidents, the interposition who enable their audience to perceive where the of dialogue, and all the stratagems that surprise lines end or begin. “Blank verse,” said an inge- and enchain attention. But, of all the borrowers nious critic, "seems to be verse only to the eye." from Homer, Milton is perhaps the least indebt. Poetry may subsist without rhyrne, but 'En- ed. He was naturally' a thinker for himself

, glish poetry will not often please; nor can rhyme confident of his own abilities, and disdainful of ever be safely spared but where the subject is help or hinderance : he did not refuse admission able to support itself. Blank verse makes some to the thoughts or images of his predecessors, approach to that which is called the lapidary but he did not seek them. From his contempostylc; has neither the easiness of prose, nor the raries he neither courted nor received support; melody of numbers, and therefore tires by long there is in his writings nothing by which the continuance. Of the Italian writers without pride of other authors might be gratified, or fa. rhyme, whom Milton alleges as precedents, notvour gained, no exchange of praise, nor solicita. one is popular ; what reason could urge in its tion of support. His great works were perdefence has been confuted by the ear.

formed under discountenance, and in blindness; But, whatever be the advantages of rhyme, I but difficulties vanished at his touch; he was cannot prevail on myself to wish that Milton born for whatever is arduous; and his work is had been a rhymer; for I cannot wish his work not the greatest of heroic poems, only because to be other than it is; yet, like other heroes, he it is not the first.

BUTLER

Of the great Author of “Hudibras,” there is moved for a short time to Cambridge; but, for a life prefixed to the later editions of his poem, want of money, was never made a member of by an unknown writer, and therefore of disputa- any college. Wood leaves us rather doubtful ble authority; and some account is incidentally whether he went to Cambridge or Oxford ; but at given by Wood, who confesses the uncertainty last makes him pass six or seven years at Camof his own narrative : more however than they bridge, without knowing in what hall or college; knew cannot now be learned, and nothing re- yet it can hardly be imagined that he lived so mains but to compare and copy them. long in either university but as belonging to one

Samuel Butler was born in the parish of house or another; and it is still less likely that Strensham, in Worcestershire, according to his he could have so long inhabited a place of learnbiographer, in 1612. This account Dr. Nashing with so little distinction as to leave his resifinds confirmed by the register. He was chris- dence uncertain. Dr. Nash has discovered that tened February 14.

his father was owner of a house and a little His father's condition is variously represented. land, worth about eight pounds a year, still called Wood mentions him as competently wealthy; Butler's tenement. but Mr. Longueville, the son of Butler's princi- Wood has his information from his brother, pal friend, says he was an honest farmer with whose narrative placed him at Cambridge, in opsome small estate, who made a shift to educate position to that of his neighbours, which sent his son at the grammar-school of Worcester, un him to Oxford. The brother seems the best der Mr. Henry Bright,* from whose care he re- authority, till, by confessing his inability to tell mis hall or college, he gives reason to suspect | Wood relates that he was secretary to Villiers, that he was resolved to bestow on him an aca- duke of Buckingham, when he was chancellor dem cal education ; but durst not name a col- of Cambridge ; this is doubted by the other wrijege, for fear of detection.

* These are the words of the author of the short ac- that he was a conveyancing lawyer, and a bencher of the count of Butler prfixed to “Hudibras,” which Dr. Inner Temple, and hail raised himself from a low begin. Johnson, notwithstanding what he says above, seems to ning to very great eminence in that profession ; that he have supposed was written by Mr. Longueville, the fa- was eloquent and learned, of spotless integrity ; that he ther; but the contrary is to be inferred from a subsequent supported an aged father who had ruined his fortunes hy rassage, wherein the author Jaments that he had neither extravagance, and by his industry and application re.edi. Huch an 'acquaintance nor interest with Mr. Longueville, fied a ruined family ; that he supported Butler, who, but as to procure fir him the golden remains of Butler there for him, must literally have starved ; and received from inentioned. He was probably led into the mistake by a him, as a recompense, the papers called his “Remains.” note in the Biog. Brit. p. 1077, signifying that the son of life of the Lord-keeper Guilford, p. 299.-These have this gentleman was living in !736.

since been given to the public by Mr. Thver, of Man. Of this friend and generous patron of Butler, Mr. Wil chester ; and the originals are now in the hands of the liam Lot

I find an account, written by a person Dr. Farmer, master of Emanuel College, Cani who was well acquainted with him. o this effect; Fiz, Ibridge.-H.

ter, who yet allows the Duke to have been his He was, for some time, according to the au- frequent benefactor. That both these accounts thor of his life, clerk to Mr. Jefferys, of Earl's are false there is reason to suspect, from a story Croomb, in Worcestershire, an eminent justice told by Packe, in his account of the Life of W'ye of the peace. In his service he had not only cherley; and from some verses which Mr. Thy. leisure for study, but for recreation; his amuse- er has published in the Author's Remains. ments were music and painting: and the reward “Mr. Wycherley,” says Packe," had always of his pencil was the friendship of the celebrated laid hold of any opportunity which offered of se Cooper. Some pictures, said to be his, were presenting to the Duke of Buckingham how well shown to Dr. Nash, at Earl's Croomb; but, Mr. Butler had deserved of the royal family, by when he inquired for them some years after writing his inimitable · Hudibras ;' and that it wards, he found them destroyed, to stop win- was a reproach to the court, that a person of his dows, and owns that they hardly deserved a bet- loyalty and wit should suffer in obscurity, and ter fate.

under the wants he did. The Duke always He was afterwards admitted into the family of seemed to hearken to him with attention enough; the Countess of Kent, where he had the use of and after some time undertook to recommend a library; and so much recommended himself his pretensions to his majesty. Mr. Wycherto Selden, that he was often employed by him in ley, in hopes to keep him steady to his word, literary business. Selden, as is well known, obtained of his Grace to name a day, when he was steward to the Countess, and is supposed to might introduce that modest and unfortunate have gained much of his wealth by managing her poet to his new patron. At last an appointment estute.

was made, and the place of meeting was agreed In what character Butler was admitted into to be the Roebuck. Mr. Butler and his friend that lady's service, how long he continued in it, attended accordingly; the Duke joined them; and why he left it, is, like the other incidents of but, as the devil would have it, the door of the his life, 'utterly unknown.

room where they sat was open, and his Grace, The vicissitudes of his condition placed him who had seated himself near it, observing a pimp afterwards in the family of Sir Sainuel Luke, of his acquaintance (the creature too was a one of Cromwell's officers. Here he observed knight) trip by with a brace of ladies, immeso much of the character of the sectaries, that diately quitted his engagement to follow another ne is said to have written or begun his poem at kind of business, at which he was more ready this time; and it is likely that such a design than in doing good offices to men of deseri, would be formed in a place where he saw the though no one was better qualified than he, principles and practices of the rebels, audacious both in regard to his fortune and understanding, and undisguised in the confidence of success. to protect them; and from that time to the day of

At length the King returned, and the time his death, poor Putler never found the least came in which loyalty hoped for its reward. effect of his promise!” Butler, however, was only made secretary to the Such is the story. The verses are written Earl of Carbury, president of the principality of with a degree of acrimony, such as neglect and Wales ; who conferred on him the stewardship disappointment might naturally excite; and such of Ludlow Castle, when the Court of the as it would be hard to imagine Butler capable of Marches was revived.

expressing against a man who had any claim to In this part of his life, he married Mrs. Her- his gratitude. bert, a gentlewoman of a good family, and lived, Notwithstanding this discouragement and says Wood, upon her fortune, having studied neglect, he still prosecuted his design; and in the common law, but never practised it. A for- 1678, published a third part, which still leaves tune she had, says his biographer, but it was the poem imperfect and abrupt. How much lost by bad securities,

more he originally intended, or with what events In 1663 was published the first part, contain the action was to be concluded, it is vain to con ing three cantos, of the poem of “Hudibras,” jecture. Nor can it be thought strange that he which, as Prior relates, was made known at should stop here, however unexpectedly. To court, by the taste and influence of the Earl of write without reward is sufficiently unpleasing. Dorset. When it was known, it was necessa- He had now arrived at an age when he might rily admired : the King quoted, the courtiers think it proper to be in jest no longer, and perstudied, and the whole party of the royalists ap- haps his health might now begin to fail. plauded it. Every eye watched for the golden He died in 1680 : and Mr. Longueville, hav. shower which was to fall upon the Author, who ing unsuccessfully solicited a subscription for his certainly was not without his part in the general interment in Westminister Abbey, buried him expectation.

at his own cost in the churchyard of CoventIn 1664 the second part appeared ; the curi- garden.* Dr. Simon Patrick read the service. osity of the nation was rekindled, and the wri- Granger was informed by Dr. Pearce, who ter was again praised and elated. But praise named for his authority Mr. Lowndes of the was his whole reward. " Clarendon,” says Treasury, that Butler had a yearly pension of a Wood, “ gave him reason to hope for places and employments of value and credit ;" but no

* In a note in the " Biographia Britannica," p, 1974, such advantages did he ever obtain. It is re- he is said, on the authority of the younger Mr. Longue ported that the King once gave him three hun ville, to have lived for some years in Rose.street, Co dred guineas; but of this temporary bounty I jentegarden, and also that he died there; the latter of

these particulars is rendered highly probable, by his find nu proof.

being interred in the cemetery of that parish.-H

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