Another friend, whom the Duchess of Marlborough survived, was the amiable Doctor Garth, author of the “Dispensary,” and the intimate associate and physician of the Duke. Garth had the good fortune to retain his popularity at court, and to be appointed the King’s physician, when the Duke and Duchess were regarded with coldness. Yet a signal compliment, it was thought, was paid to this humane and accomplished man, when George the First knighted him with the Duke of Marlborough’s sword. Dr. Garth was of decided Whig opinions, as were most of the Duchess’s associates; and he was of suspected scepticism, as were also many of those in whom she placed confidence. It was, however, so prevalent an imputation in those days, that few eminent men escaped the charge. It must also be allowed, that it was a species of fashionable affectation, for affectation it most probably was, to express, for the poor credit of belonging to a certain philosophical order, a degree of doubt concerning the great truths upon which every hope of human nature depends. Sir Samuel Garth was, says Pope, “a good Christian without knowing himself to be so.” It is to be regretted that he did not know it, for he has bequeathed to the members of his profession the imputation to which, at all events, he thoughtlessly contributed, of being averse to the religious belief of our church, as they are often obliged to be aliens to its observances. This charge, notoriously unjust in the present day, was not, however, fairly urged against Dr. Garth, who died, according to the somewhat partial evidence of Pope, in the communion of the Roman Catholic church. Whilst he afforded the relief of his art, and the enjoyment of his conversation, to patients of the higher classes, Dr. Garth was not, as the prosperous are apt to be, unmindful of the lowly and suffering. His character appears to have presented a rare compound of bland and conciliating manners with an independent spirit. His labours at the College of Physicians were directed to purposes of charity, which then engaged the attention of that body. His literary talents were applied to satirize the unworthy members of his profession, and to elevate its character. He was an uncommon instance of a man possessing literary attainments and acquiring professional eminence. In those days, and even so late as the time of Darwin, the pursuit of the belles lettres was not inimical to the extension of a medical practice, and Garth’s celebrated satire on a portion of his professional brethren introduced him into all that a physician most prizes. Finally, when the corpse of the illustrious Dryden lay neglected and unburied, Dr. Garth brought the deserted remains to the College of Physicians, raised a subscription to defray the expenses of the funeral, and, following the body to Westminster Abbey, had the office, peculiarly honourable to him under such circumstances, of pronouncing an oration over the grave in which the rescued clay was deposited.