The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. in Nine Volumes, Volume 02: The Rambler, Volume IJohnson, Samuel
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The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. in Nine Volumes, Volume 02: The Rambler, Volume I
Johnson, Samuel
English essays -- 18th century
Unlike the ribald whose licentious jest
Pollutes his banquet, and insults his guest;
From wealth and grandeur easy to descend,
Thou joy'st to lose the master in the friend:
We round thy board the cheerful menials see,
Gay with the smile of bland equality;
No social care the gracious lord disdains;
Love prompts to love, and rev'rence rev'rence gains.
TO THE RAMBLER.
SIR,
As you seem to have devoted your labours to virtue, I cannot forbear to
inform you of one species of cruelty with which the life of a man of
letters perhaps does not often make him acquainted; and which, as it
seems to produce no other advantage to those that practise it than a
short gratification of thoughtless vanity, may become less common when
it has been once exposed in its various forms, and its full magnitude.
I am the daughter of a country gentleman, whose family is numerous,
and whose estate, not at first sufficient to supply us with affluence,
has been lately so much impaired by an unsuccessful law-suit, that all
the younger children are obliged to try such means as their education
affords them, for procuring the necessaries of life. Distress and
curiosity concurred to bring me to London, where I was received by a
relation with the coldness which misfortune generally finds. A week,
a long week, I lived with my cousin, before the most vigilant inquiry
could procure us the least hopes of a place, in which time I was much
better qualified to bear all the vexations of servitude. The first two
days she was content to pity me, and only wished I had not been quite so
well bred; but people must comply with their circumstances. This lenity,
however, was soon at an end; and, for the remaining part of the week,
I heard every hour of the pride of my family, the obstinacy of my father,
and of people better born than myself that were common servants.
At last, on Saturday noon, she told me, with very visible satisfaction,
that Mrs. Bombasine, the great silk-mercer's lady, wanted a maid, and a
fine place it would be, for there would be nothing to do but to clean
my mistress's room, get up her linen, dress the young ladies, wait at
tea in the morning, take care of a little miss just come from nurse,
and then sit down to my needle. But madam was a woman of great spirit,
and would not be contradicted, and therefore I should take care, for
good places were not easily to be got.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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