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diff --git a/42971-8.txt b/42971-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 84bab4d..0000000 --- a/42971-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4987 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson, by -Thomas Babington Macaulay - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson - With a Selection from his Essay on Johnson - -Author: Thomas Babington Macaulay - -Editor: Charles Lane Hanson - -Release Date: June 17, 2013 [EBook #42971] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MACAULAY'S LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Brett Fishburne, Charlie Howard, -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - -[Illustration: SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. - -From a photograph of the painting by John Opie, R.A., in the National -Portrait Gallery] - - - - - MACAULAY'S - - LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON - - _WITH A SELECTION FROM HIS - ESSAY ON JOHNSON_ - - EDITED - WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES - - BY - - CHARLES LANE HANSON - - INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH, MECHANIC ARTS HIGH SCHOOL, BOSTON - EDITOR OF CARLYLE'S "ESSAY ON BURNS," "REPRESENTATIVE - POEMS OF BURNS," ETC. - - [Illustration] - - GINN AND COMPANY - - BOSTON · NEW YORK · CHICAGO · LONDON - ATLANTA · DALLAS · COLUMBUS · SAN FRANCISCO - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY - CHARLES LANE HANSON - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - 421·12 - - The Athenęum Press - GINN AND COMPANY · PROPRIETORS · - BOSTON · U.S.A. - - - - -PREFATORY NOTE - - -The editor explains the difference between Macaulay's _Life of Johnson_ -and Macaulay's _Essay on Johnson_ in the Introduction, IV, p. xxviii, -and gives his reason for printing only a portion of the _Essay_. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - INTRODUCTION: - - PAGE - I. AN INTRODUCTION TO MACAULAY ix - - II. MACAULAY AND HIS LITERARY CONTEMPORARIES xxiii - - III. THE STUDY OF MACAULAY xxv - - IV. MACAULAY ON JOHNSON xxviii - - V. REFERENCE BOOKS xxix - - VI. CHRONOLOGY OF MACAULAY'S LIFE AND WORKS xxxii - - VII. CHRONOLOGY OF JOHNSON'S LIFE AND WORKS xxxiv - - LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON 1 - - SELECTION FROM MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON CROKER'S EDITION - OF BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON 45 - - NOTES 77 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -I. AN INTRODUCTION TO MACAULAY - - (1800-1859) - -Before Thomas Babington Macaulay was big enough to hold a large -volume he used to lie on the rug by the open fire, with his book on -the floor and a piece of bread and butter in his hand. Apparently the -three-year-old boy was as fond of reading as of eating, and even at -this time he showed that he was no mere bookworm by sharing with the -maid what he had learned from "a volume as big as himself." He never -tired of telling the stories that he read, and as he easily remembered -the words of the book he rapidly acquired a somewhat astonishing -vocabulary for a boy of his years. One afternoon when the little -fellow, then aged four, was visiting, a servant spilled some hot coffee -on his legs. The hostess, who was very sympathetic, soon afterward -asked how he was feeling. He looked up in her face and replied, "Thank -you, madam, the agony is abated." It was at this same period of his -infancy that he had a little plot of ground of his own, marked out by a -row of oyster shells, which a maid one day threw away as rubbish. "He -went straight to the drawing-room, where his mother was entertaining -some visitors, walked into the circle, and said, very solemnly, 'Cursed -be Sally; for it is written, Cursed is he that removeth his neighbor's -landmark.'"[1] - -As these incidents indicate, the youngster was precocious. When he was -seven, his mother writes, he wrote a compendium of universal history, -and "really contrived to give a tolerably connected view of the leading -events from the Creation to the present time, filling about a quire -of paper." Yet, fond as he was of reading, he was "as playful as a -kitten." Although he made wonderful progress in all branches of his -education, he had to be driven to school. Again and again his entreaty -to be allowed to stay at home met his mother's "No, Tom, if it rains -cats and dogs, you shall go." The boy thought he was too busy with his -literary activities to waste time in school; but the father and mother -looked upon his productions merely as schoolboy amusements. He was to -be treated like other boys, and no suspicion was to come to him, if -they could help it, that he was superior to other children. - -The wise parents had set themselves no easy task in their determination -to pay little attention to the unusual gifts of this lad. One -afternoon, when a child, he went with his father to make a social call, -and found on the table the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_, which he had -never before seen. While the others talked he quietly read, and on -reaching home recited as many stanzas as his mother had the patience or -the strength to hear. Clearly a boy who had read incessantly from the -time he was three years old, who committed to memory as rapidly as most -boys read, and who was eager to declaim poetry by the hour, or to tell -interminable stories of his own, would attract somebody's attention. -Fortunately for all concerned the lady who was particularly interested -in him, and who had him at her house for weeks at a time, Mrs. Hannah -More, encouraged without spoiling him, and rewarded him by buying books -to increase his library. When he was six or eight years old, she gave -him a small sum with which to lay "a corner-stone" for his library, and -a year or two afterward she wrote that he was entitled to another book: -"What say you to a little good prose? Johnson's 'Hebrides,' or Walton's -'Lives,' unless you would like a neat edition of 'Cowper's Poems,' or -'Paradise Lost,' for your own eating?" Whether he began at once to eat -Milton's great epic we are not told, but at a later period he said that -"if by some miracle of vandalism all copies of 'Paradise Lost' and 'The -Pilgrim's Progress' were destroyed off the face of the earth, he would -undertake to reproduce them both from recollection."[2] - -Prodigy though he was, Thomas was more than a reader and reciter of -books. Much as he cared for them he cared more for his home,--that -simple, thrifty, comfortable home,--and his three brothers and five -sisters. His father, Zachary, did a large business as an African -merchant. This earnest, precise, austere man was so anxious for his -eldest son to have a thoroughly trained mind that he expected a -deliberation and a maturity of judgment that are not natural to an -impetuous lad. The good-natured, open-hearted boy reasoned with him -and pleaded with him, and whether successful or not in persuading his -father, loved him just the same. The mother, with all her love and -ambition for him, took the utmost pains to teach him to do thoroughly -whatever he undertook, in order that he might attain the perfect -development of character that comes alone from the most vigorous -training. His sister, Lady Trevelyan, writes: "His unruffled sweetness -of temper, his unfailing flow of spirits, his amusing talk, all made -his presence so delightful that his wishes and his tastes were our law. -He hated strangers and his notion of perfect happiness was to see us -all working round him while he read aloud a novel, and then to walk -all together on the Common, or, if it rained, to have a frightfully -noisy game of hide-and-seek." It was a habit in the family to read -aloud every evening from such writers as Shakspere, Clarendon, Miss -Edgeworth, Scott, and Crabbe; and, as a standing dish, the _Quarterly_ -and the _Edinburgh Review_. - -From this home, in which he was wisely loved, Thomas was sent to -a private school near Cambridge. Then his troubles began. The -twelve-year-old boy longed for the one attraction that would tempt him -from his books--home life--and months ahead he counted the days which -must pass before he could again see the home "which absence renders -still dearer." In August, 1813, he urged his mother for permission to -go home on his birthday, October 25: "If your approbation of my request -depends upon my advancing in study, I will work like a cart-horse. If -you should refuse it, you will deprive me of the most pleasing illusion -which I ever experienced in my life."[3] But the father shook his head -and the boy toiled on with his Greek and Latin. He wrote of learning -the Greek grammar by heart, he tried his hand at Latin verses, and he -read what he pleased, with a preference for prose fiction and poetry. - -When eighteen years old (in October, 1818), Macaulay entered Trinity -College, Cambridge. But for mathematics he would have been made happy. -He writes to his mother: "Oh for words to express my abomination of -that science, if a name sacred to the useful and embellishing arts may -be applied to the perception and recollection of certain properties -in numbers and figures!... 'Discipline' of the mind! Say rather -starvation, confinement, torture, annihilation!"[4] There were prizes, -but Macaulay was not a prize winner. He was an excellent declaimer and -an excellent debater, and undoubtedly might have won more honors had -he been willing to work hard on the subjects prescribed, whether he -liked them or not. But he was eager to avoid the sciences, and he was -not content to be a mere struggler for honors. He was sensible enough -to enjoy the companionships the place afforded. He knew something of -the value of choosing comrades after his own heart, who were thoroughly -genuine and sincere, natural and manly. Even if, as Mr. Morison says, -the result of his college course was that "those faculties which were -naturally strong were made stronger, and those which were naturally -weak received little or no exercise," he wisely spent much time with -a remarkable group of young men, among whom Charles Austin was king. -Of Austin, John Stuart Mill says, "The impression he gave was that of -boundless strength, together with talents which, combined with such -apparent force of will and character, seemed capable of dominating the -world." And Trevelyan adds, "He certainly was the only man who ever -succeeded in dominating Macaulay." Austin it was who turned Zachary -Macaulay's eldest son from a Tory into a Whig. The boy had always -been interested in the political discussions held in his father's -house, a center of consultation for suburban members of Parliament, -and had learned to look at public affairs with no thought of ambition -or jealous self-seeking. This sort of training, supplemented by his -discussions at college, where he soon became a vigorous politician, -developed a patriotic, disinterested man. - -In the midst of his inexpressible delight in the freedom the college -course gave him to indulge his fondness for literature and to spend -his days and nights walking and talking with his mates, he continued -to remember his family with affection, and did not neglect to write -home. On March 25, 1821, he wrote his mother: "I am sure that it is -well worth while being sick to be nursed by a mother. There is nothing -which I remember with such pleasure as the time when you nursed me -at Aspenden. The other night, when I lay on my sofa very ill and -hypochondriac, I was told that you were come! How well I remember with -what an ecstasy of joy I saw that face approaching me, in the middle of -people that did not care if I died that night, except for the trouble -of burying me! The sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, are -present to me now, and will be, I trust in God, to my last hour."[5] - -On the first of October, 1824, two years after he had received the -degree of Bachelor of Arts, he wrote his father that he was that -morning elected Fellow, and that the position would make him almost -independent financially for the next seven years. - -In 1824, too, he made his first address before a public assembly,--an -antislavery address that probably gave Zachary Macaulay the happiest -half hour of his life, that called out a "whirlwind of cheers" from the -audience, and enthusiastic commendation from the _Edinburgh Review_. -The next year Macaulay was asked to write for that famous periodical, -then at the height of its political, social, and literary power. He -contributed the essay on Milton and "like Lord Byron he awoke one -morning and found himself famous." The compliment for which he cared -most--"the only commendation of his literary talent which even in -the innermost domestic circle he was ever known to repeat"--came -from Jeffrey, the editor, when he acknowledged the receipt of the -manuscript: "The more I think, the less I can conceive where you picked -up that style." - -When Macaulay entered college, his father considered himself worth at -least a hundred thousand pounds; but soon afterward he lost his money -and the eldest son found the other children looking to him for guidance -and support. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, he -drew freely on his income from the fellowship and his occasional -contributions to the _Edinburgh_. He was the sunshine of the home, and -apparently only those who knew him there got the best of his brilliancy -and wit. - -In 1826 he was called to the bar, but he was becoming more and more -interested in public affairs and longed to be in Parliament. In 1830 -Lord Lansdowne, who had been much impressed by Macaulay's articles -on Mill, and by his high moral and private character, gave him the -opportunity to represent Calne--"on the eve of the most momentous -conflict," says Trevelyan, "that ever was fought out by speech and -vote within the walls of a senate-house."[6] When the Reform Bill was -introduced, the opposition laughed contemptuously at the impossibility -of disfranchising, wholly or in part, a hundred and ten boroughs for -the sake of securing a fair representation of the United Kingdom in the -House of Commons. Two days later Macaulay made the first of his Reform -speeches, and "when he sat down, the Speaker sent for him, and told -him that, in all his prolonged experience, he had never seen the House -in such a state of excitement." That not only unsettled the House of -Commons but put an end to the question whether he should give his time -to law or to politics. During the next three years he devoted himself -to Parliament. Entering with his whole soul into the thickest of the -fight for reform, he made a speech on the second reading of the Reform -Bill which no less a critic than Jeffrey said put him "clearly at the -head of the great speakers, if not the debaters, of the House."[7] - -Naturally the social advantages of the position appealed to Macaulay. -He appreciated the freedom, the good fellowship, the spirit of equality -among the members. "For the space of three seasons he dined out almost -nightly"; and for a man who at a time when his parliamentary fame -was highest, was so reduced that he sold the gold medals he had won -at Cambridge,--though "he was never for a moment in debt,"--it was -sometimes convenient to be a lion. Yet this "sitting up in the House -of Commons till three o'clock five days in the week, and getting an -indigestion at great dinners the remaining two," would not have been -the first choice of a man whose greatest joy "in the midst of all this -praise" was to think of the pleasure which his success would give to -his father and his sisters. - -In June, 1832, the bill which Macaulay had supported so zealously and -so eloquently at every stage of the fight, finally became an act. As -a reward the great orator was appointed a commissioner of the Board -of Control, which represented the crown in its relations to the East -Indian directors. He held this commissionership only eighteen months, -however, for as a means of reducing expenses the Whig Government -suppressed it. It is to Macaulay's everlasting credit that he voted for -this economic measure at a time when his Trinity fellowship was about -to expire, and when the removal from office left him penniless. - -Impatient to choose the first Reformed Parliament, the great cities -were looking about that autumn for worthy representatives. The Whigs -of Leeds got Macaulay's promise to stand for that town as soon as it -became a parliamentary borough. His attitude toward the electors whose -votes meant bread to him was as refreshing as it was striking. His -frank opinions they should have at all times, but pledges never. They -should choose their representative cautiously and then confide in him -liberally. Such independence was not relished in many quarters, but -Macaulay answered the remonstrants with even more vigor: "It is not -necessary to my happiness that I should sit in Parliament; but it is -necessary to my happiness that I should possess, in Parliament or out -of Parliament, the consciousness of having done what is right."[8] - -His appointment as Secretary to the Board of Control was a help -financially, and his return to Parliament by Leeds proved to be of -very great assistance. Matters were going smoothly when the Government -introduced their Slavery Bill. To Zachary Macaulay, who had always been -a zealous abolitionist, the measure was not satisfactory. To please him -the son opposed it. In order that he might be free to criticise the -bill, simply as a member of Parliament, he resigned his position in the -Cabinet, although both he and his father thought this course of action -would be fatal to his career. A son whose devotion to his father leads -him to such lengths is not always so promptly rewarded as Macaulay was -in this instance, for the resignation was not accepted, the bill was -amended, and the Ministers were as friendly as ever. - -Up to this time he had earned little money by his writing. After -giving his days to India and his nights to improving the condition of -the Treasury, he could get only snatches of time for turning off the -essays which we read with so much care. With a family depending on him -he now realized fully the need not of riches but of a competence. He -could live by his pen or by office; but he could not think seriously -of writing to "relieve the emptiness of the pocket" rather than "the -fullness of the mind," and if he must earn this competence through -office, the sooner he was through with the business the better. So it -was largely for the sake of his aged father, his younger brother, and -his dearly loved sisters, that he accepted an appointment as legal -adviser to the Supreme Council of India. - -He and his sister Hannah sailed for India in February, 1834. He tells -us that he read during the whole voyage: the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_, -Virgil, Horace, Cęsar's _Commentaries_, Bacon's _De Augmentis_, Dante, -Petrarch, Ariosto, Tasso, _Don Quixote_, Gibbon's _Rome_, Mill's -_India_, all the seventy volumes of Voltaire, Sismondi's _History of -France_, and the seven thick folios of the _Biographia Britannica_. -On his arrival he plunged into the new work. Not satisfied with the -immense amount already assigned him, he saw two large opportunities to -do more by serving on two committees. As president of the Committee -of Public Instruction he substituted for Oriental learning the -introduction and promotion of European literature and science among the -natives; as president of the Law Commission he took the initiative in -framing the famous Penal Code, the value of which must be judged from -the facts that "hardly any questions have arisen upon it which have had -to be determined by the courts, and that few and slight amendments -have had to be made by the Legislature."[9] He worked patiently, yet he -longed to be back in England, and it was a great relief when in 1838, -his work done, his competence saved, he was able to return. He was too -late to see his father again, for Zachary Macaulay had died while the -son was on the way home. - -In the fall he went to Italy with his mind full of associations and -traditions. His biographer says that every line of good poetry which -the fame or the beauty of this country had inspired "rose almost -involuntarily to his lips." On this occasion he gave some of those -geographical and topographical touches to the _Lays of Ancient Rome_ -"which set his spirited stanzas ringing in the ear of a traveller in -Rome at every turn." Much as he enjoyed Italy, he soon began to long -for his regular work, and the following February found him in London -again. In March he was unanimously elected to _the_ Club, and he was -making the most of his leisure for books when he felt it his duty to -enter Parliament for Edinburgh. "Office was never, within my memory, -so little attractive," he writes, "and therefore, I fear, I cannot, -as a man of spirit, flinch, if it is offered to me." Without any show -of reluctance he was made Secretary at War and given a seat in the -Cabinet. To this position the man who had begun life "without rank, -fortune, or private interest" had risen before his fortieth birthday. -On March 14, 1840, he wrote his intimate friend, Mr. Ellis, a good -account of his life at that time.[10] - -"I have got through my estimates [for army expenses] with flying -colors; made a long speech of figures and details without hesitation -or mistake of any sort; stood catechising on all sorts of questions; -and got six millions of public money in the course of an hour or two. I -rather like the sort of work, and I have some aptitude for it. I find -business pretty nearly enough to occupy all my time; and if I have a -few minutes to myself, I spend them with my sister and niece; so that, -except while I am dressing and undressing, I get no reading at all. I -do not know but that it is as well for me to live thus for a time. I -became too mere a bookworm in India, and on my voyage home. Exercise, -they say, assists digestion; and it may be that some months of hard -official and Parliamentary work may make my studies more nourishing." - -But the Queen's advisers did not have the confidence of the country, -there was a change of government, and Macaulay lost his office. How -the loss affected him we may gather from a part of his letter to Mr. -Napier, at that time the editor of the _Edinburgh Review_. - -"I can truly say that I have not, for many years, been so happy as I -am at present.... I am free. I am independent. I am in Parliament, -as honorably seated as man can be. My family is comfortably off. I -have leisure for literature, yet I am not reduced to the necessity of -writing for money. If I had to choose a lot from all that there are in -human life, I am not sure that I should prefer any to that which has -fallen to me. I am sincerely and thoroughly contented."[11] - -Carlyle says that a biography should answer two questions: (1) what -and how produced was the effect of society on the man; and (2) what -and how produced was his effect on society.[12] To the careful reader -of Trevelyan's _Life_ the words just quoted from Macaulay will give -a pretty fair notion of what, up to this time, Macaulay had got from -society. The other question, what he gave to society, is perhaps -best answered in the account of the remaining years of his life. -In Parliament, in society, and in literary and political circles -throughout the country there was the feeling that he had won the -respect and good will of all, and that he was to do something still -greater. What this greater thing was to be was the question that -confronted Macaulay for the next few years. Certainly it was not the -publishing of his _Lays_, although one hundred thousand copies of them -were sold by the year 1875. Nor was it the collecting and reprinting of -his _Essays_, although they have given hundreds of thousands of minds -a taste for letters and a desire for knowledge. One could hardly call -it the delivery of those vehement and effective parliamentary speeches -with which he held his audience spellbound, even if one of them did -secure the passing of the Copyright Bill in 1842 in practically its -present form. But while attending to these other matters, Macaulay had -on his mind an undertaking which was destined to satisfy, as far as -he carried it toward completion, the hopes of his most enthusiastic -admirers. In 1841 he had written to Napier, "I shall not be satisfied -unless I produce something which shall for a few days supersede the -last fashionable novel on the tables of young ladies."[13] In order -that he might give all his attention to this one project he soon -stopped writing for the _Edinburgh Review_; he denied himself no -little of the pleasure he had been getting from society; he gave up -more parliamentary honors than most others could ever hope to win. At -last, in 1848, he published the first volumes of a work that met with -a heartier welcome than the English-speaking world had given to any -historical work since the coming of Gibbon's _Decline and Fall of the -Roman Empire_. That these volumes of _The History of England_ were -the result of a very different kind of effort from that with which -Macaulay had dashed off the essays, may be inferred from a sentence -of Thackeray's, which Trevelyan says is no exaggeration: "He reads -twenty books to write a sentence; he travels a hundred miles to make a -line of description."[14] After all critics may say for or against the -_History_, it remains to note that Macaulay did what he undertook: he -wrote a history that is more readable than most novels. - -In other ways we can trace his "effect on society." He was chosen Lord -Rector of the University of Glasgow in 1848. Prince Albert tried, -but in vain, to induce him to become Professor of Modern History at -Cambridge in 1849. He was asked, but declined--urging the plea that -he was not a debater--to join the Cabinet in 1852. The same year the -people of Edinburgh, ashamed of their failure to reėlect him five years -before, chose him to represent them in Parliament. Meantime he had -been well and happy. In his journal for October 25, 1850, he wrote: -"My birthday. I am fifty. Well, I have had a happy life. I do not know -that anybody, whom I have seen close, has had a happier. Some things I -regret; but, on the whole, who is better off? I have not children of -my own, it is true; but I have children whom I love as if they were my -own, and who, I believe, love me. I wish that the next ten years may be -as happy as the last ten. But I rather wish it than hope it."[15] - -Macaulay may have surmised that the good health which had been such an -important factor in keeping him happy would not last much longer. At -any rate his last election to the House of Commons was followed by an -illness from which he never fully recovered, but through which, for -seven years, "he maintained his industry, his courage, his patience, -and his benevolence." Occasionally he treated the House to a "torrent -of words," but he understood that he must husband his powers for -work on books. To protect himself from a bookseller who advertised -an edition of his speeches, he made and published a selection of his -own, many of which he had to write from memory. Then he continued his -work on the _History_. Some of the time he had to "be resolute and -work doggedly," as Johnson said. "He almost gave up letter-writing; -he quite gave up society; and at last he had not leisure even for his -diary."[16] Yet of this immense labor he said, "It is the business and -the pleasure of my life." - -As a result of this steady toil the writer secured an enviable -influence abroad. He was made a member of several foreign academies, -and translations have turned the _History_ into a dozen tongues. At -home, among the numerous honors, he was presented with the degree of -Doctor of Civil Law at Oxford, and made a peer--Baron of Rothley. -Naturally before receiving this last honor he had withdrawn from -Parliament, and from 1856 to the end of his life he enjoyed a retired -home, with a fine garden. He had plenty of time to cash the famous -check for twenty thousand pounds which the first edition of the -_History_ brought him, and to invest and spend it as he pleased. On -his fifty-seventh birthday he wrote in his diary, "What is much more -important to my happiness than wealth, titles, and even fame, those -whom I love are well and happy, and very kind and affectionate to me." - -One of the chief sources of his happiness, one to which he was -particularly indebted these last days, was his love of reading. He -could no longer read fourteen books of the _Odyssey_ at a stretch -while out for a walk, but in the quiet of his library he enjoyed the -companionship of the author he happened to be reading as perhaps few -men could. He who could command any society in London failed to find -any that he preferred, at breakfast or at dinner, to the company of -Boswell; and it seems natural and fitting that he should be found -on that last December day, in 1859, "in the library, seated in his -easy-chair, and dressed as usual, with his book on the table beside -him." - -Equally fitting is it that in Poet's Corner, Westminster Abbey, the -resting place of Johnson, Garrick, Goldsmith, and Addison, there should -lie a stone with this inscription: - - THOMAS BABINGTON, LORD MACAULAY, - BORN AT ROTHLEY TEMPLE, LEICESTERSHIRE, - OCTOBER 25TH, 1800. - DIED AT HOLLY LODGE, CAMPDEN HILL. - DECEMBER 28TH, 1859. - "His body is buried in peace, - but his name liveth for evermore." - -For he left behind him a great and honorable name, and every action of -his life was "as clear and transparent as one of his own sentences." -His biography reveals the dutiful son, the affectionate brother, the -true friend, the honorable politician, the practical legislator, the -eloquent speaker, the brilliant author. It shows unmistakably that -greater than all his works was the man. - - -II. MACAULAY AND HIS LITERARY CONTEMPORARIES - -The very year in which the last volumes of Johnson's _Lives of the -Poets_ were published, 1781, Burns began to do his best work. In 1796 -Burns died. In 1798, two years before Macaulay was born, Wordsworth and -Coleridge published the first of the _Lyrical Ballads_, which included -_The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_. Like Burns, yet in a way entirely -his own, Wordsworth was the poet of Nature and of Man, and this little -volume was the beginning of much spontaneous poetry which in the -following years proved a refreshing change from the polished couplets -which had been in fashion. Instead of Pope and Addison and Johnson, in -whose time literary men cared more for books than for social reforms, -more for manner than for matter, came Scott, Byron, Shelley, Coleridge, -Landor, and Southey with their irrepressible originality. - -Before Macaulay's day Defoe, Richardson, Fielding, and Smollett had -each contributed something to the novel. During his lifetime came -practically all of the best work of Miss Austen, Scott, Cooper, Lytton, -Disraeli, Hawthorne, the Brontės, Dickens, Thackeray, Mrs. Gaskell, -Trollope, and Kingsley. George Eliot's _Adam Bede_ appeared the year he -died. - -Other prominent prose writers were Hallam, Grote, Milman, Froude, Mill, -Ruskin, and Carlyle. _In Memoriam_ and Mrs. Browning's _Sonnets from -the Portuguese_ were published in 1850, and Browning's _The Ring and -the Book_ came out in 1868. - -As to Macaulay's relations with his literary contemporaries, it must -be understood that he gave practically his whole attention to the -times of which he read and wrote, and to the men who made those times -interesting. Scientists were making important discoveries day by -day, but his concern was not with them, even at a time when Darwin -was writing his _Origin of Species_. It was not clear to him that -philosophical speculations like Carlyle's might do much to better -the condition of humanity. He finished Wordsworth's _Prelude_ only -to be disgusted with "the old flimsy philosophy about the effect -of scenery on the mind" and "the endless wildernesses of dull, -flat, prosaic twaddle." Although he read an infinite variety of -contemporary literature he said he would not attempt to dissect works -of imagination. In 1838, when Napier wished him to review Lockhart's -_Life of Scott_ for the _Edinburgh Review_, he replied that he enjoyed -many of Scott's performances as keenly as anybody, but that many could -criticise them far better. He added: "Surely it would be desirable that -some person who knew Sir Walter, who had at least seen him and spoken -with him, should be charged with this article. Many people are living -who had a most intimate acquaintance with him. I know no more of him -than I know of Dryden or Addison, and not a tenth part so much as I -know of Swift, Cowper, or Johnson."[17] He turned instinctively to -the old books, the books that he had read again and again: to Homer, -Aristophanes, Horace, Herodotus, Addison, Swift, Fielding. There was at -least one writer of fiction in his time to whom he was always loyal. -On one occasion when he had been reading Dickens and Pliny and Miss -Austen at the same time, he declared that _Northanger Abbey_, although -"the work of a girl," was in his opinion "worth all Dickens and Pliny -together." - -What he did for humanity he did as a practical man of affairs, at home -alike in the Cabinet and in popular assemblies. While Carlyle in the -midst of his gloomy life was toiling heroically to banish shams and -to get at the True, the Real, Macaulay, who was reasonably satisfied -with the past and the present, and hopeful of the future, was sifting -from his vast treasury of information about the past what he believed -to be significant in history and important in literature. He had none -of the feeling that Ruskin had, that it was his duty to turn reformer, -but what he did toward educating his readers he did in the way he most -enjoyed. - - -III. THE STUDY OF MACAULAY - -Once for all it must be remembered that Macaulay had no intention of -being studied as a text-book, and we must deal with him fairly. First -we should read the _Life_ through at a sitting without consulting a -note, just as we read an article in the _Atlantic Monthly_ or the -_Encyclopędia Britannica_. We should rush on with the "torrent of -words" to the end to see what it is all about, and to get an impression -of the article as a whole. As Johnson says: "Let him that is yet -unacquainted with the powers of Shakespeare, and who desires to feel -the highest pleasure that the drama can give, read every play from the -first scene to the last with utter negligence of all his commentators. -When his fancy is once on the wing, let it not stoop at correction or -explanation. When his attention is strongly engaged let it disdain -alike to turn aside to the name of Theobald and of Pope. Let him read -on through brightness and obscurity, through integrity and corruption; -let him preserve his comprehension of the dialogue and his interest -in the fable. And when the pleasures of novelty have ceased let him -attempt exactness and read the commentators." - -Macaulay attracts attention not only to what he says but also to the -way in which he says it. In examining his style it will be a good plan -to ask ourselves whether the writer ever wanders from the subject, -or whether every part of the _Life_ contributes something to the one -subject under discussion. Naturally we find ourselves making topics, -such for example as Johnson's Youth, His Father, At Oxford. A list of -these topics gives us a bird's-eye view of the whole field and enables -us to examine the composition more critically. Has the writer arranged -the topics in the natural order? Does he give too much space to the -treatment of any one topic? Might any of them be omitted to advantage? - -Having examined the larger divisions, we may profitably turn our -attention to the parts which constitute these divisions, the -paragraphs. First let us see whether he goes easily from one paragraph -to the next. For example, is the first sentence of paragraph 2 a good -connecting link with what precedes? In looking through the _Life_ for -these links, we should make up our minds whether they are studied or -spontaneous. - -Then let us test the unity of the paragraphs. Can each paragraph be -summed up in a single sentence? Does a combination of the opening and -the closing sentence ever serve the purpose? Does one or the other of -these ever answer of itself? Has every sentence some bearing on the -main thought, or might some sentences be omitted as well as not? - -It will be equally profitable, at this point, to test the coherence -of half a dozen paragraphs. Does each sentence lead up naturally to -the next? Can the order of sentences be changed to advantage? When the -sentences in a paragraph hold together firmly, we should point out the -cause; when coherence is lacking, we should try to discover to what its -absence is due. - -Then comes the question of emphasis. Let us see whether we can find -two or three paragraphs in which Macaulay succeeds particularly well -in emphasizing the main point. If we find three, let us see whether he -accomplishes his purpose in the same way each time. - -For those of us who are still willing to learn something from -Macaulay's style, it is worth while to study the sentences. Selecting -two or three of the most interesting paragraphs, we may make the three -tests: (1) Is each sentence a unit? (2) Is the relation of every word -to the adjoining words absolutely clear? (3) Does the construction -emphasize what is important? - -Then there is the vocabulary. Who does not enjoy the feeling that he -is enlarging his vocabulary? An easy way of doing it is to read two -or three times such a paragraph as the nineteenth, and then, with the -book closed, to write as much of it as possible from memory. As it is -not merely a large vocabulary that we wish, but a well chosen one, we -shall do well to compare our version with Macaulay's and see in how -many cases his word is better than ours. Have we, for example, equaled -"winning affability," or "London mud," or "inhospitable door"? Is his -word more effective than ours because it is more specific, or what is -the reason? - -Before taking farewell of the _Life of Johnson_ there is another use to -which we may put the topics. We may use them as tests of our knowledge -of the essay. If we can write or talk fully and definitely on each of -the more important ones, we are sure to carry much food for thought -away with us. The value of a review of this sort is evident from a -glance at the following topics: Literary Life in London in Johnson's -Time, Johnson's Love Affair, The Dictionary, The Turning Point in -Johnson's Life, The Rambler, Rasselas, The Idler, His Shakspere, -The Club [His Conversation], Boswell, The Thrales, His Fleet Street -Establishment, The Lives of the Poets. - -As we read Macaulay we should be particularly careful to think for -ourselves. Mr. Gladstone has said: "Wherever and whenever read, he will -be read with fascination, with delight, with wonder. And with copious -instruction too; but also with copious reserve, with questioning -scrutiny, with liberty to reject, and with much exercise of that -liberty."[18] - -This means that we must follow him up, find out where he got his -information, see whether in his enthusiasm he has exaggerated. Then, -even if the critics do assure us that he is not one of the deep -thinkers, one of the very great writers, we may go on committing his -_Lays_ to heart, studying his _Essays_, and admiring those wonderfully -faithful pictures in his _History_. More than all else, as the years -go by, we are likely to find ourselves indebted to him for arousing -interest, for leading us to further reading. - - -IV. MACAULAY ON JOHNSON - -Among the "hasty and imperfect articles" which Macaulay wrote for -the _Edinburgh Review_ was one on Croker's Edition of Boswell's -Life of Johnson. It appeared in 1831 and gave the writer a welcome -opportunity to show the inaccuracy and unreliability of Croker, one -of his political opponents. Nearly one half of his space he gave to -criticising the editor, and that part it seems wise to omit in this -edition; for we care more about Boswell and Johnson. Twenty-five years -later, in 1856, when Macaulay had ceased to write for reviews, but -sent an occasional article to the _Encyclopędia Britannica_, he wrote -what is generally called the _Life of Samuel Johnson_. The publisher -of the encyclopędia writes that it was entirely to Macaulay's friendly -feeling that he was "indebted for those literary gems, which could not -have been purchased with money"; that "he made it a stipulation of his -contributing that remuneration should not be so much as mentioned." The -other articles referred to are those on Atterbury, Bunyan, Goldsmith, -and William Pitt. One writer calls them "perfect models of artistic -condensation." - -It is interesting to compare the later work with the earlier: to see -whether there is any evidence of improvement in Macaulay's use of -English, and whether he gives us a better notion of Boswell and Johnson. - - -V. REFERENCE BOOKS - -The book to which we naturally turn first to see whether Macaulay -knows his subject is Boswell's _Life of Johnson_; not the edition -in six volumes by Dr. George B. Hill, scholarly as it is, but some -such edition as Mr. Mowbray Morris's, published by the Macmillan -Company in one volume. When we read Boswell the first time, to get his -conception of his hero, we do not care to loiter on every page for -notes, interesting and instructive as they may be after the first rapid -reading. This single volume is so cheap that no one need hesitate to -buy it; then he may mark it up as much as he pleases and enjoy his own -book. The conscientious student need not feel obliged to read every -word of every episode, but may feel perfectly free to skip whatever -does not appeal to him, perfectly certain that before he has turned ten -pages he will stumble on something worth while. - -The book which will do more than all others to illuminate the life -and character of Macaulay is _The Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay_, -written by his nephew, G. Otto Trevelyan. Harper & Brothers, the -publishers, have bound the two volumes in one which is so inexpensive -that every school library may easily afford it. Some critics think this -_Life_ ranks with Boswell's _Johnson_. It certainly is one of the most -readable biographies in the English language. Other useful books are -numerous, but among them all Carlyle's essay in reply to Macaulay's -_Essay on Boswell's Life of Johnson_ stands out first. - -BOSWELL - - ARBLAY, MADAME D'. Memoirs of Dr. Burney. (Contains "the most - vivid account of Boswell's manner when in company with - Dr. Johnson.") - - Boswelliana: the Commonplace Book of James Boswell. London, - 1874. - - CARLYLE, THOMAS. Boswell's Life of Johnson. - - FITZGERALD, PERCY, M.A., F.S.A. Life of James Boswell with four - portraits. 2 vols. London: 1891. - - LEASK, W. KEITH. James Boswell. (Famous Scots Series.) - Edinburgh: 1897. - - STEPHEN, LESLIE. James Boswell (in the Dictionary of National - Biography). - -JOHNSON - - BIRRELL, A. Dr. Johnson (in Obiter Dicta, Second Series). - - BOSWELL, JAMES. Life of Johnson including Boswell's Journal of - a Tour to the Hebrides, etc., edited by George Birkbeck - Hill, D.C.L., Pembroke College, Oxford, in six volumes. - Oxford, 1897. ("Boswell's famous book has never before - been annotated with equal enthusiasm, learning, and - industry."--Austin Dobson.) - - The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D., including a Journal - of his Tour to the Hebrides, by James Boswell, Esq. - New edition, with numerous additions and notes, by - The Right Hon. John Wilson Croker, M.P., to which - are added ... 50 engraved illustrations. In ten - volumes. London: 1839. - - The Life of Johnson edited by Alexander Napier, M.A., - London, 1884, also has several engravings. - - Dr. Henry Morley's edition of Boswell's work is - illustrated with portraits by Sir Joshua Reynolds. - George Routledge & Sons, London, 1885. - - BROUGHAM, HENRY, LORD, F.R.S. Lives of Men of Letters of the - Time of George III. London: 1856. - - GARDINER, S. R. A Student's History of England. - - GOSSE, EDMUND W. History of Eighteenth Century Literature. - - GREEN, J. R. A Short History of the English People. - - HILL, GEORGE BIRKBECK, D.C.L. Dr. Johnson, His Friends and - His Critics. London: 1878. - - HOSTE, J. W. Johnson and His Circle. London: Jarrold & Sons. - - Johnson's Chief Lives of the Poets, Being those of Milton, - Dryden, Swift, Addison, Pope, Gray, and Macaulay's - Life of Johnson, with a Preface by Matthew Arnold, to - which are appended Macaulay's and Carlyle's Essays on - Boswell's Life of Johnson. Henry Holt & Company, New - York, 1879. - - Johnson Club Papers by Various Hands. London: T. Fisher Unwin, - 1899. - - Johnsoniana: Anecdotes of the late Samuel Johnson, LL.D., by - Mrs. Piozzi, Bishop Percy, and others, together with - the Diary of Dr. Campbell and extracts from that of - Madame D' Arblay, newly collected and edited by Robina - Napier. (Engravings and various autographs.) George - Bell and Sons, London, 1884. - - JOHNSON, SAMUEL. The Idler. In the series of British Essayists. - - Lives of the Poets. A New Edition, with Notes and - Introduction by Arthur Waugh, in six volumes. - Scribner's Sons, 1896. - - London. In Hales's Longer English Poems. - - The Rambler. In the series of British Essayists. - - Rasselas. Leach, Shewell & Sanborn, or Henry Holt & Co. - - The Vanity of Human Wishes. In Hales's Longer English - Poems and Syle's From Milton to Tennyson. - - The Works of Samuel Johnson. In nine volumes. Oxford. - - LECKY, W. E. H. History of England in the Eighteenth Century. - - PIOZZI, MRS. Anecdotes of the Late Samuel Johnson during the - Last Twenty Years of his Life. 1786. - - Same, in the cheap National Series. The Cassell Company. - - Letters to and from the Late Samuel Johnson, LL.D. 1788. - - STEPHEN, LESLIE. History of English Thought in the Eighteenth - Century. - - Dr. Johnson's Writings (in Hours in a Library, Vol. II). - - Samuel Johnson. Dictionary of National Biography. - - Samuel Johnson. English Men of Letters Series. Harper & - Brothers. (Cloth or paper.) - -MACAULAY - - BAGEHOT, WALTER. Thomas Babington Macaulay. (In Literary - Studies.) - - BREWER, E. COBHAM, LL.D. Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. The - Historic Note-book. - - CLARK, J. SCOTT. Thomas Babington Macaulay. (In A Study of - English Prose Writers.) - - GLADSTONE, W. E. Gleanings of Past Years. - - HARRISON, FREDERIC. Lord Macaulay. (In Early Victorian - Literature.) - - MACAULAY, THOMAS B. Critical and Historical Essays, contributed - to the _Edinburgh Review_. Trevelyan edition, in two - volumes. Longmans, Green, and Co. - - The History of England from the Accession of James II. - - Works. Complete edition, by Lady Trevelyan, in eight - volumes. Longmans, Green, and Co. - - MINTO, WILLIAM. Manual of English Prose Literature. - - MORISON, J. COTTER. Macaulay. (In English Men of Letters, - edited by John Morley.) - - PATTISON, MARK. Macaulay. (In the Encyclopędia Britannica.) - - STEPHEN, LESLIE. Macaulay. (In the Dictionary of National - Biography; in Hours in a Library.) - - TREVELYAN, G. OTTO. The Life and Letters of Lord Macaulay, in - two volumes; also two volumes in one. - -LONDON - - BESANT, WALTER. London in the Eighteenth Century. - - HARE, AUGUSTUS JOHN. Walks in London. - - HUTTON, LAURENCE. Literary Landmarks of London. - - WHEATLEY, HENRY B. London, Past and Present. - - -VI. CHRONOLOGY OF MACAULAY'S LIFE AND WORKS - - 1800. Born. - - 1814. Sent to boarding school. - - 1818. Entered Trinity College, Cambridge. - - 1822. Graduated as B.A. - - 1824. Degree of M.A. Elected Fellow. First public speech. - - 1825. First contribution to the _Edinburgh Review_: essay on - Milton. - - 1826. Called to the bar. - - 1828. Commissioner of Bankruptcy. - - 1830. Member of Parliament for Calne. First speech in - Parliament. - - 1831. Speeches on the Reform Bill. Essay on Boswell's Life of - Johnson. - - 1833. Member of Parliament for Leeds. Essay on Horace Walpole. - - 1834. Essay on William Pitt, Earl of Chatham. Sailed for India - as legal adviser to the Supreme Council. - - 1837. Penal Code finished. - - 1838. His father died. Returned to England. Visited Italy. - - 1839. Elected to the Club. Member of Parliament for Edinburgh. - Secretary at War. - - 1840. Essay on Lord Clive. - - 1841. Reėlected to Parliament for Edinburgh. Essay on Warren - Hastings. - - 1842. Lays of Ancient Rome published. - - 1843. Essay on Madame d'Arblay. Essay on the Life and Writings - of Addison. - - 1844. Essay on the Earl of Chatham. (The second essay on this - subject, and his last contribution to the _Edinburgh - Review_.) - - 1846. Paymaster-General of the Army. Defeated in Edinburgh - election. - - 1848. First two volumes of his History of England. - - 1849. Lord Rector of the University of Glasgow. - - 1852. Again elected to Parliament from Edinburgh, although not - a candidate. Failing health. - - 1854. Life of John Bunyan. - - 1855. Third and fourth volumes of his History of England. (The - fifth volume appeared after his death.) - - 1856. Resigned his seat in Parliament. Life of Samuel Johnson. - Life of Oliver Goldsmith. - - 1857. Became Baron Macaulay of Rothley. - - 1859. Life of William Pitt. Died December 28. - - -VII. CHRONOLOGY OF JOHNSON'S LIFE AND WORKS - - 1709. Born September 18. - - 1728. Entered Pembroke College, Oxford. Turned Pope's Messiah - into Latin verse. - - 1731. Left Oxford. His father died. - - 1735. Married. Opened an academy at Edial. - - 1737. Went to London. - - 1738. His first important work: London. Began to write for _The - Gentleman's Magazine_. - - 1744. Life of Savage. - - 1747. Prospectus of the Dictionary. - - 1749. The Vanity of Human Wishes. Irene. - - 1750-1752. The Rambler. - - 1752. Death of his wife. - - 1755. Letter to Chesterfield. The Dictionary appeared. - - 1758-1760. The Idler. - - 1759. Death of his mother. Rasselas. - - 1762. Pensioned. - - 1763. Met Boswell for the first time. - - 1764. The Club founded. - - 1765. Made Doctor of Laws by Trinity College, Dublin. - Introduced to the Thrales. His edition of Shakspere - published. - - 1773. Spent three months in Scotland. - - 1775. Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland published. - Taxation no Tyranny. Received the degree of Doctor in - Civil Law from Oxford. - - 1779. First four volumes of his Lives of the Poets. - - 1781. The remaining six volumes of the Lives. - - 1784. Died December 13. - - - - -LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON - -(_December, 1856_) - - - 1. Samuel Johnson, one of the most eminent English - writers of the eighteenth century, was the son of Michael - Johnson, who was, at the beginning of that century, a magistrate - of Lichfield, and a bookseller of great note in the midland - counties. Michael's abilities and attainments seem to 5 - have been considerable. He was so well acquainted with - the contents of the volumes which he exposed to sale, that the - country rectors of Staffordshire and Worcestershire thought - him an oracle on points of learning. Between him and the - clergy, indeed, there was a strong religious and political 10 - sympathy. He was a zealous churchman, and, though he had - qualified himself for municipal office by taking the oaths to - the sovereigns in possession, was to the last a Jacobite in heart. - At his house, a house which is still pointed out to every - traveller who visits Lichfield, Samuel was born on the 18th of 15 - September 1709. In the child, the physical, intellectual, and - moral peculiarities which afterwards distinguished the man were - plainly discernible; great muscular strength accompanied by - much awkwardness and many infirmities; great quickness of - parts, with a morbid propensity to sloth and procrastination; 20 - a kind and generous heart, with a gloomy and irritable temper. - He had inherited from his ancestors a scrofulous taint, which - it was beyond the power of medicine to remove. His parents - were weak enough to believe that the royal touch was a specific - for this malady. In his third year he was taken up to London, - inspected by the court surgeon, prayed over by the court - chaplains, and stroked and presented with a piece of gold by - Queen Anne. One of his earliest recollections was that of a - stately lady in a diamond stomacher and a long black hood. 5 - Her hand was applied in vain. The boy's features, which - were originally noble and not irregular, were distorted by his - malady. His cheeks were deeply scarred. He lost for a time - the sight of one eye; and he saw but very imperfectly with - the other. But the force of his mind overcame every impediment. 10 - Indolent as he was, he acquired knowledge with such - ease and rapidity that at every school to which he was sent he - was soon the best scholar. From sixteen to eighteen he resided - at home, and was left to his own devices. He learned much at - this time, though his studies were without guidance and without 15 - plan. He ransacked his father's shelves, dipped into a multitude - of books, read what was interesting, and passed over what - was dull. An ordinary lad would have acquired little or no useful - knowledge in such a way: but much that was dull to ordinary - lads was interesting to Samuel. He read little Greek; for his 20 - proficiency in that language was not such that he could take - much pleasure in the masters of Attic poetry and eloquence. - But he had left school a good Latinist; and he soon acquired, - in the large and miscellaneous library of which he now had the - command, an extensive knowledge of Latin literature. That 25 - Augustan delicacy of taste which is the boast of the great public - schools of England he never possessed. But he was early - familiar with some classical writers who were quite unknown - to the best scholars in the sixth form at Eton. He was peculiarly - attracted by the works of the great restorers of learning. 30 - Once, while searching for some apples, he found a huge folio - volume of Petrarch's works. The name excited his curiosity; - and he eagerly devoured hundreds of pages. Indeed, the - diction and versification of his own Latin compositions show - that he had paid at least as much attention to modern copies - from the antique as to the original models. - - 2. While he was thus irregularly educating himself, his family - was sinking into hopeless poverty. Old Michael Johnson was - much better qualified to pore upon books, and to talk about 5 - them, than to trade in them. His business declined; his debts - increased; it was with difficulty that the daily expenses of his - household were defrayed. It was out of his power to support - his son at either university; but a wealthy neighbour offered - assistance; and, in reliance on promises which proved to be of 10 - very little value, Samuel was entered at Pembroke College, - Oxford. When the young scholar presented himself to the - rulers of that society, they were amazed not more by his ungainly - figure and eccentric manners than by the quantity of extensive - and curious information which he had picked up during many 15 - months of desultory but not unprofitable study. On the first - day of his residence he surprised his teachers by quoting Macrobius; - and one of the most learned among them declared that - he had never known a freshman of equal attainments. - - 3. At Oxford, Johnson resided during about three years. 20 - He was poor, even to raggedness; and his appearance excited - a mirth and a pity which were equally intolerable to his haughty - spirit. He was driven from the quadrangle of Christ Church - by the sneering looks which the members of that aristocratical - society cast at the holes in his shoes. Some charitable person 25 - placed a new pair at his door; but he spurned them away in a - fury. Distress made him, not servile, but reckless and ungovernable. - No opulent gentleman commoner, panting for one-and-twenty, - could have treated the academical authorities with - more gross disrespect. The needy scholar was generally to be 30 - seen under the gate of Pembroke, a gate now adorned with - his effigy, haranguing a circle of lads, over whom, in spite of - his tattered gown and dirty linen, his wit and audacity gave - him an undisputed ascendency. In every mutiny against the - discipline of the college he was the ringleader. Much was - pardoned, however, to a youth so highly distinguished by abilities - and acquirements. He had early made himself known - by turning Pope's Messiah into Latin verse. The style and - rhythm, indeed, were not exactly Virgilian; but the translation 5 - found many admirers, and was read with pleasure by - Pope himself. - - 4. The time drew near at which Johnson would, in the - ordinary course of things, have become a Bachelor of Arts: - but he was at the end of his resources. Those promises of 10 - support on which he had relied had not been kept. His - family could do nothing for him. His debts to Oxford tradesmen - were small indeed, yet larger than he could pay. In the - autumn of 1731, he was under the necessity of quitting the - university without a degree. In the following winter his father 15 - died. The old man left but a pittance; and of that pittance - almost the whole was appropriated to the support of his widow. - The property to which Samuel succeeded amounted to no more - than twenty pounds. - - 5. His life, during the thirty years which followed, was 20 - one hard struggle with poverty. The misery of that struggle - needed no aggravation, but was aggravated by the sufferings - of an unsound body and an unsound mind. Before the young - man left the university, his hereditary malady had broken forth - in a singularly cruel form. He had become an incurable 25 - hypochondriac. He said long after that he had been mad all - his life, or at least not perfectly sane; and, in truth, - eccentricities less strange than his have often been thought grounds - sufficient for absolving felons, and for setting aside wills. His - grimaces, his gestures, his mutterings, sometimes diverted and 30 - sometimes terrified people who did not know him. At a dinner - table he would, in a fit of absence, stoop down and twitch off - a lady's shoe. He would amaze a drawing-room by suddenly - ejaculating a clause of the Lord's Prayer. He would conceive - an unintelligible aversion to a particular alley, and perform a - great circuit rather than see the hateful place. He would set - his heart on touching every post in the streets through which he - walked. If by any chance he missed a post, he would go back - a hundred yards and repair the omission. Under the influence 5 - of his disease, his senses became morbidly torpid, and his - imagination morbidly active. At one time he would stand poring - on the town clock without being able to tell the hour. At - another, he would distinctly hear his mother, who was many - miles off, calling him by his name. But this was not the 10 - worst. A deep melancholy took possession of him, and gave - a dark tinge to all his views of human nature and of human - destiny. Such wretchedness as he endured has driven many - men to shoot themselves or drown themselves. But he was - under no temptation to commit suicide. He was sick of life; 15 - but he was afraid of death; and he shuddered at every sight - or sound which reminded him of the inevitable hour. In religion - he found but little comfort during his long and frequent - fits of dejection; for his religion partook of his own character. - The light from heaven shone on him indeed, but not in a 20 - direct line, or with its own pure splendour. The rays had - to struggle through a disturbing medium; they reached him - refracted, dulled and discoloured by the thick gloom which - had settled on his soul; and, though they might be sufficiently - clear to guide him, were too dim to cheer him. 25 - - 6. With such infirmities of body and mind, this celebrated - man was left, at two-and-twenty, to fight his way through the - world. He remained during about five years in the midland - counties. At Lichfield, his birthplace and his early home, he - had inherited some friends and acquired others. He was kindly 30 - noticed by Henry Hervey, a gay officer of noble family, who - happened to be quartered there. Gilbert Walmesley, registrar - of the ecclesiastical court of the diocese, a man of distinguished - parts, learning, and knowledge of the world, did - himself honour by patronising the young adventurer, whose - repulsive person, unpolished manners, and squalid garb moved - many of the petty aristocracy of the neighbourhood to laughter - or to disgust. At Lichfield, however, Johnson could find no - way of earning a livelihood. He became usher of a grammar 5 - school in Leicestershire; he resided as a humble companion - in the house of a country gentleman; but a life of dependence - was insupportable to his haughty spirit. He repaired to Birmingham, - and there earned a few guineas by literary drudgery. - In that town he printed a translation, little noticed at the 10 - time, and long forgotten, of a Latin book about Abyssinia. - He then put forth proposals for publishing by subscription the - poems of Politian, with notes containing a history of modern - Latin verse: but subscriptions did not come in; and the volume - never appeared. 15 - - 7. While leading this vagrant and miserable life, Johnson - fell in love. The object of his passion was Mrs. Elizabeth - Porter, a widow who had children as old as himself. To ordinary - spectators, the lady appeared to be a short, fat, coarse - woman, painted half an inch thick, dressed in gaudy colours, 20 - and fond of exhibiting provincial airs and graces which were - not exactly those of the Queensberrys and Lepels. To Johnson, - however, whose passions were strong, whose eyesight was - too weak to distinguish ceruse from natural bloom, and who - had seldom or never been in the same room with a woman of 25 - real fashion, his Titty, as he called her, was the most beautiful, - graceful, and accomplished of her sex. That his admiration - was unfeigned cannot be doubted; for she was as poor as - himself. She accepted, with a readiness which did her little - honour, the addresses of a suitor who might have been her 30 - son. The marriage, however, in spite of occasional wranglings, - proved happier than might have been expected. The lover - continued to be under the illusions of the wedding-day till the - lady died in her sixty-fourth year. On her monument he - placed an inscription extolling the charms of her person and - of her manners; and when, long after her decease, he had - occasion to mention her, he exclaimed, with a tenderness half - ludicrous, half pathetic, "Pretty creature!" - - 8. His marriage made it necessary for him to exert himself 5 - more strenuously than he had hitherto done. He took a - house in the neighbourhood of his native town, and advertised - for pupils. But eighteen months passed away; and only three - pupils came to his academy. Indeed, his appearance was so - strange, and his temper so violent, that his schoolroom must 10 - have resembled an ogre's den. Nor was the tawdry painted - grandmother whom he called his Titty well qualified to make - provision for the comfort of young gentlemen. David Garrick, - who was one of the pupils, used, many years later, to throw - the best company of London into convulsions of laughter by 15 - mimicking the endearments of this extraordinary pair. - - 9. At length Johnson, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, - determined to seek his fortune in the capital as a literary - adventurer. He set out with a few guineas, three acts of the - tragedy of Irene in manuscript, and two or three letters of 20 - introduction from his friend Walmesley. - - 10. Never, since literature became a calling in England, had - it been a less gainful calling than at the time when Johnson - took up his residence in London. In the preceding generation - a writer of eminent merit was sure to be munificently 25 - rewarded by the government. The least that he could expect - was a pension or a sinecure place; and, if he showed any aptitude - for politics, he might hope to be a member of parliament, - a lord of the treasury, an ambassador, a secretary of state. It - would be easy, on the other hand, to name several writers 30 - of the nineteenth century of whom the least successful has - received forty thousand pounds from the booksellers. But - Johnson entered on his vocation in the most dreary part of - the dreary interval which separated two ages of prosperity. - Literature had ceased to flourish under the patronage of the - great, and had not begun to flourish under the patronage of - the public. One man of letters, indeed, Pope, had acquired - by his pen what was then considered as a handsome fortune, - and lived on a footing of equality with nobles and ministers of 5 - state. But this was a solitary exception. Even an author - whose reputation was established, and whose works were popular, - such an author as Thomson, whose Seasons were in every - library, such an author as Fielding, whose Pasquin had had a - greater run than any drama since The Beggar's Opera, was 10 - sometimes glad to obtain, by pawning his best coat, the means - of dining on tripe at a cookshop underground, where he could - wipe his hands, after his greasy meal, on the back of a Newfoundland - dog. It is easy, therefore, to imagine what humiliations - and privations must have awaited the novice who had 15 - still to earn a name. One of the publishers to whom Johnson - applied for employment measured with a scornful eye that - athletic though uncouth frame, and exclaimed, "You had - better get a porter's knot, and carry trunks." Nor was the - advice bad; for a porter was likely to be as plentifully fed, 20 - and as comfortably lodged, as a poet. - - 11. Some time appears to have elapsed before Johnson - was able to form any literary connection from which he could - expect more than bread for the day which was passing over - him. He never forgot the generosity with which Hervey, who 25 - was now residing in London, relieved his wants during this - time of trial. "Harry Hervey," said the old philosopher - many years later, "was a vicious man; but he was very - kind to me. If you call a dog Hervey I shall love him." - At Hervey's table Johnson sometimes enjoyed feasts which 30 - were made more agreeable by contrast. But in general he - dined, and thought that he dined well, on sixpenny worth - of meat, and a pennyworth of bread, at an alehouse near - Drury Lane. - - 12. The effect of the privations and sufferings which he - endured at this time was discernible to the last in his temper - and his deportment. His manners had never been courtly. - They now became almost savage. Being frequently under the - necessity of wearing shabby coats and dirty shirts, he became a 5 - confirmed sloven. Being often very hungry when he sat down - to his meals, he contracted a habit of eating with ravenous - greediness. Even to the end of his life, and even at the tables - of the great, the sight of food affected him as it affects wild - beasts and birds of prey. His taste in cookery, formed in 10 - subterranean ordinaries and alamode beefshops, was far from - delicate. Whenever he was so fortunate as to have near him - a hare that had been kept too long, or a meat pie made with - rancid butter, he gorged himself with such violence that his - veins swelled, and the moisture broke out on his forehead. 15 - The affronts which his poverty emboldened stupid and low-minded - men to offer to him would have broken a mean spirit - into sycophancy, but made him rude even to ferocity. Unhappily - the insolence which, while it was defensive, was pardonable, - and in some sense respectable, accompanied him into 20 - societies where he was treated with courtesy and kindness. He - was repeatedly provoked into striking those who had taken - liberties with him. All the sufferers, however, were wise - enough to abstain from talking about their beatings, except - Osborne, the most rapacious and brutal of booksellers, who 25 - proclaimed everywhere that he had been knocked down by the - huge fellow whom he had hired to puff the Harleian Library. - - 13. About a year after Johnson had begun to reside in - London, he was fortunate enough to obtain regular employment - from Cave, an enterprising and intelligent bookseller, who 30 - was proprietor and editor of _The Gentleman's Magazine_. That - journal, just entering on the ninth year of its long existence, - was the only periodical work in the kingdom which then had - what would now be called a large circulation. It was, indeed, - the chief source of parliamentary intelligence. It was not then - safe, even during a recess, to publish an account of the proceedings - of either House without some disguise. Cave, however, - ventured to entertain his readers with what he called - "Reports of the Debates of the Senate of Lilliput." France 5 - was Blefuscu; London was Mildendo; pounds were sprugs; the - Duke of Newcastle was the Nardac Secretary of State; Lord - Hardwicke was the Hurgo Hickrad; and William Pulteney - was Wingul Pulnub. To write the speeches was, during several - years, the business of Johnson. He was generally furnished 10 - with notes, meagre indeed, and inaccurate, of what had been - said; but sometimes he had to find arguments and eloquence - both for the ministry and for the opposition. He was himself - a Tory, not from rational conviction--for his serious - opinion was that one form of government was just as good or 15 - as bad as another--but from mere passion, such as inflamed - the Capulets against the Montagues, or the Blues of the Roman - circus against the Greens. In his infancy he had heard so - much talk about the villanies of the Whigs, and the dangers - of the Church, that he had become a furious partisan when 20 - he could scarcely speak. Before he was three he had insisted - on being taken to hear Sacheverell preach at Lichfield Cathedral, - and had listened to the sermon with as much respect, - and probably with as much intelligence, as any Staffordshire - squire in the congregation. The work which had been begun 25 - in the nursery had been completed by the university. Oxford, - when Johnson resided there, was the most Jacobitical place - in England; and Pembroke was one of the most Jacobitical - colleges in Oxford. The prejudices which he brought up - to London were scarcely less absurd than those of his own 30 - Tom Tempest. Charles II. and James II. were two of the - best kings that ever reigned. Laud, a poor creature who - never did, said, or wrote anything indicating more than the - ordinary capacity of an old woman, was a prodigy of parts and - learning over whose tomb Art and Genius still continued to - weep. Hampden deserved no more honourable name than - that of "the zealot of rebellion." Even the ship money, condemned - not less decidedly by Falkland and Clarendon than by - the bitterest Roundheads, Johnson would not pronounce to 5 - have been an unconstitutional impost. Under a government, - the mildest that had ever been known in the world--under a - government, which allowed to the people an unprecedented - liberty of speech and action--he fancied that he was a slave; - he assailed the ministry with obloquy which refuted itself, and 10 - regretted the lost freedom and happiness of those golden days - in which a writer who had taken but one-tenth part of the - license allowed to him would have been pilloried, mangled - with the shears, whipped at the cart's tail, and flung into a - noisome dungeon to die. He hated dissenters and stock-jobbers, 15 - the excise and the army, septennial parliaments, and - continental connections. He long had an aversion to the - Scotch, an aversion of which he could not remember the commencement, - but which, he owned, had probably originated in - his abhorrence of the conduct of the nation during the Great 20 - Rebellion. It is easy to guess in what manner debates on - great party questions were likely to be reported by a man - whose judgment was so much disordered by party spirit. A - show of fairness was indeed necessary to the prosperity of the - Magazine. But Johnson long afterwards owned that, though 25 - he had saved appearances, he had taken care that the Whig - dogs should not have the best of it; and, in fact, every passage - which has lived, every passage which bears the marks of - his higher faculties, is put into the mouth of some member - of the opposition. 30 - - 14. A few weeks after Johnson had entered on these - obscure labours, he published a work which at once placed - him high among the writers of his age. It is probable that - what he had suffered during his first year in London had often - reminded him of some parts of that noble poem in which - Juvenal had described the misery and degradation of a needy - man of letters, lodged among the pigeons' nests in the tottering - garrets which overhung the streets of Rome. Pope's - admirable imitations of Horace's Satires and Epistles had 5 - recently appeared, were in every hand, and were by many - readers thought superior to the originals. What Pope had - done for Horace, Johnson aspired to do for Juvenal. The - enterprise was bold, and yet judicious. For between Johnson - and Juvenal there was much in common, much more certainly 10 - than between Pope and Horace. - - 15. Johnson's London appeared without his name in - May 1738. He received only ten guineas for this stately and - vigorous poem: but the sale was rapid, and the success complete. - A second edition was required within a week. Those 15 - small critics who are always desirous to lower established - reputations ran about proclaiming that the anonymous satirist - was superior to Pope in Pope's own peculiar department of - literature. It ought to be remembered, to the honour of Pope, - that he joined heartily in the applause with which the appearance 20 - of a rival genius was welcomed. He made inquiries about - the author of London. Such a man, he said, could not long - be concealed. The name was soon discovered; and Pope, - with great kindness, exerted himself to obtain an academical - degree and the mastership of a grammar school for the poor 25 - young poet. The attempt failed, and Johnson remained a - bookseller's hack. - - 16. It does not appear that these two men, the most - eminent writer of the generation which was going out, and - the most eminent writer of the generation which was coming 30 - in, ever saw each other. They lived in very different circles, - one surrounded by dukes and earls, the other by starving - pamphleteers and indexmakers. Among Johnson's associates - at this time may be mentioned Boyse, who, when his shirts - were pledged, scrawled Latin verses sitting up in bed with his - arms through two holes in his blanket, who composed very - respectable sacred poetry when he was sober, and who was at - last run over by a hackney coach when he was drunk; Hoole, - surnamed the metaphysical tailor, who, instead of attending 5 - to his measures, used to trace geometrical diagrams on the - board where he sate cross-legged; and the penitent impostor, - George Psalmanazar, who, after poring all day, in a humble - lodging, on the folios of Jewish rabbis and Christian fathers, - indulged himself at night with literary and theological 10 - conversation at an alehouse in the city. But the most remarkable - of the persons with whom at this time Johnson consorted - was Richard Savage, an earl's son, a shoemaker's apprentice, - who had seen life in all its forms, who had feasted among blue - ribands in Saint James's Square, and had lain with fifty pounds' 15 - weight of iron on his legs in the condemned ward of Newgate. - This man had, after many vicissitudes of fortune, sunk at last - into abject and hopeless poverty. His pen had failed him. - His patrons had been taken away by death, or estranged by - the riotous profusion with which he squandered their bounty, 20 - and the ungrateful insolence with which he rejected their - advice. He now lived by begging. He dined on venison - and champagne whenever he had been so fortunate as to - borrow a guinea. If his questing had been unsuccessful, he - appeased the rage of hunger with some scraps of broken meat, 25 - and lay down to rest under the Piazza of Covent Garden in - warm weather, and, in cold weather, as near as he could get - to the furnace of a glass house. Yet, in his misery, he was still - an agreeable companion. He had an inexhaustible store of - anecdotes about that gay and brilliant world from which he 30 - was now an outcast. He had observed the great men of both - parties in hours of careless relaxation, had seen the leaders - of opposition without the mask of patriotism, and had heard - the prime minister roar with laughter and tell stories not over - decent. During some months Savage lived in the closest - familiarity with Johnson; and then the friends parted, not - without tears. Johnson remained in London to drudge for - Cave. Savage went to the West of England, lived there as - he had lived everywhere, and, in 1743, died, penniless and 5 - heart-broken, in Bristol gaol. - - 17. Soon after his death, while the public curiosity was - strongly excited about his extraordinary character, and his - not less extraordinary adventures, a life of him appeared - widely different from the catchpenny lives of eminent men 10 - which were then a staple article of manufacture in Grub - Street. The style was indeed deficient in ease and variety; - and the writer was evidently too partial to the Latin element - of our language. But the little work, with all its faults, was - a masterpiece. No finer specimen of literary biography existed 15 - in any language, living or dead; and a discerning critic might - have confidently predicted that the author was destined to be - the founder of a new school of English eloquence. - - 18. The life of Savage was anonymous; but it was well - known in literary circles that Johnson was the writer. During 20 - the three years which followed, he produced no important - work; but he was not, and indeed could not be, idle. The fame - of his abilities and learning continued to grow. Warburton - pronounced him a man of parts and genius; and the praise - of Warburton was then no light thing. Such was Johnson's 25 - reputation that, in 1747, several eminent booksellers combined - to employ him in the arduous work of preparing a - Dictionary of the English language, in two folio volumes. The - sum which they agreed to pay him was only fifteen hundred - guineas; and out of this sum he had to pay several poor men 30 - of letters who assisted him in the humbler parts of his task. - - 19. The prospectus of the Dictionary he addressed to the - Earl of Chesterfield. Chesterfield had long been celebrated - for the politeness of his manners, the brilliancy of his wit, - and the delicacy of his taste. He was acknowledged to be - the finest speaker in the House of Lords. He had recently - governed Ireland, at a momentous conjuncture, with eminent - firmness, wisdom, and humanity; and he had since become - Secretary of State. He received Johnson's homage with the 5 - most winning affability, and requited it with a few guineas, - bestowed doubtless in a very graceful manner, but was by no - means desirous to see all his carpets blackened with the London - mud, and his soups and wines thrown to right and left over - the gowns of fine ladies and the waistcoats of fine gentlemen, 10 - by an absent, awkward scholar, who gave strange starts and - uttered strange growls, who dressed like a scarecrow, and ate - like a cormorant. During some time Johnson continued to - call on his patron, but after being repeatedly told by the - porter that his lordship was not at home, took the hint, and 15 - ceased to present himself at the inhospitable door. - - 20. Johnson had flattered himself that he should have completed - his Dictionary by the end of 1750; but it was not till - 1755 that he at length gave his huge volumes to the world. - During the seven years which he passed in the drudgery of 20 - penning definitions and marking quotations for transcription, - he sought for relaxation in literary labour of a more agreeable - kind. In 1749 he published the Vanity of Human Wishes, - an excellent imitation of the Tenth Satire of Juvenal. It is - in truth not easy to say whether the palm belongs to the 25 - ancient or to the modern poet. The couplets in which the - fall of Wolsey is described, though lofty and sonorous, are feeble - when compared with the wonderful lines which bring before us - all Rome in tumult on the day of the fall of Sejanus, the laurels - on the doorposts, the white bull stalking towards the Capitol, 30 - the statues rolling down from their pedestals, the flatterers of - the disgraced minister running to see him dragged with a hook - through the streets, and to have a kick at his carcase before - it is hurled into the Tiber. It must be owned too that in the - concluding passage the Christian moralist has not made the - most of his advantages, and has fallen decidedly short of - the sublimity of his pagan model. On the other hand, Juvenal's - Hannibal must yield to Johnson's Charles; and Johnson's - vigorous and pathetic enumeration of the miseries of a literary 5 - life must be allowed to be superior to Juvenal's lamentation - over the fate of Demosthenes and Cicero. - - 21. For the copyright of the Vanity of Human Wishes - Johnson received only fifteen guineas. - - 22. A few days after the publication of this poem, his 10 - tragedy, begun many years before, was brought on the stage. - His pupil, David Garrick, had, in 1741, made his appearance - on a humble stage in Goodman's Fields, had at once risen to the - first place among actors, and was now, after several years of - almost uninterrupted success, manager of Drury Lane Theatre. 15 - The relation between him and his old preceptor was of a very - singular kind. They repelled each other strongly, and yet - attracted each other strongly. Nature had made them of very - different clay; and circumstances had fully brought out the - natural peculiarities of both. Sudden prosperity had turned 20 - Garrick's head. Continued adversity had soured Johnson's - temper. Johnson saw with more envy than became so great - a man the villa, the plate, the china, the Brussels carpet, which - the little mimic had got by repeating, with grimaces and - gesticulations, what wiser men had written; and the exquisitely 25 - sensitive vanity of Garrick was galled by the thought that, - while all the rest of the world was applauding him, he could - obtain from one morose cynic, whose opinion it was impossible - to despise, scarcely any compliment not acidulated with scorn. - Yet the two Lichfield men had so many early recollections in 30 - common, and sympathised with each other on so many points - on which they sympathised with nobody else in the vast population - of the capital, that, though the master was often provoked - by the monkey-like impertinence of the pupil, and the - pupil by the bearish rudeness of the master, they remained - friends till they were parted by death. Garrick now brought - Irene out, with alterations sufficient to displease the author, - yet not sufficient to make the piece pleasing to the audience. - The public, however, listened with little emotion, but with 5 - much civility, to five acts of monotonous declamation. After - nine representations the play was withdrawn. It is, indeed, - altogether unsuited to the stage, and, even when perused in - the closet, will be found hardly worthy of the author. He had - not the slightest notion of what blank verse should be. A 10 - change in the last syllable of every other line would make the - versification of the Vanity of Human Wishes closely resemble - the versification of Irene. The poet, however, cleared, by - his benefit nights, and by the sale of the copyright of his - tragedy, about three hundred pounds, then a great sum in 15 - his estimation. - - 23. About a year after the representation of Irene, he - began to publish a series of short essays on morals, manners, - and literature. This species of composition had been brought - into fashion by the success of the Tatler, and by the still more 20 - brilliant success of the Spectator. A crowd of small writers - had vainly attempted to rival Addison. The Lay Monastery, - the Censor, the Freethinker, the Plain Dealer, the Champion, - and other works of the same kind, had had their short day. - None of them had obtained a permanent place in our literature; 25 - and they are now to be found only in the libraries of - the curious. At length Johnson undertook the adventure in - which so many aspirants had failed. In the thirty-sixth year - after the appearance of the last number of the Spectator - appeared the first number of the Rambler. From March 30 - 1750 to March 1752, this paper continued to come out every - Tuesday and Saturday. - - 24. From the first the Rambler was enthusiastically admired - by a few eminent men. Richardson, when only five numbers - had appeared, pronounced it equal, if not superior, to the - Spectator. Young and Hartley expressed their approbation - not less warmly. Bubb Dodington, among whose many faults - indifference to the claims of genius and learning cannot be - reckoned, solicited the acquaintance of the writer. In 5 - consequence probably of the good offices of Dodington, who was - then the confidential adviser of Prince Frederic, two of His - Royal Highness's gentlemen carried a gracious message to - the printing office, and ordered seven copies for Leicester - House. But these overtures seem to have been very coldly 10 - received. Johnson had had enough of the patronage of the - great to last him all his life, and was not disposed to haunt - any other door as he had haunted the door of Chesterfield. - - 25. By the public the Rambler was at first very coldly - received. Though the price of a number was only twopence, 15 - the sale did not amount to five hundred. The profits were - therefore very small. But as soon as the flying leaves were - collected and reprinted they became popular. The author - lived to see thirteen thousand copies spread over England - alone. Separate editions were published for the Scotch and 20 - Irish markets. A large party pronounced the style perfect, so - absolutely perfect that in some essays it would be impossible - for the writer himself to alter a single word for the better. - Another party, not less numerous, vehemently accused him of - having corrupted the purity of the English tongue. The best 25 - critics admitted that his diction was too monotonous, too - obviously artificial, and now and then turgid even to absurdity. - But they did justice to the acuteness of his observations on - morals and manners, to the constant precision and frequent - brilliancy of his language, to the weighty and magnificent 30 - eloquence of many serious passages, and to the solemn yet - pleasing humour of some of the lighter papers. On the question - of precedence between Addison and Johnson, a question - which, seventy years ago, was much disputed, posterity has - pronounced a decision from which there is no appeal. Sir - Roger, his chaplain and his butler, Will Wimble and Will - Honeycomb, the Vision of Mirza, the Journal of the Retired - Citizen, the Everlasting Club, the Dunmow Flitch, the Loves - of Hilpah and Shalum, the Visit to the Exchange, and the 5 - Visit to the Abbey, are known to everybody. But many men - and women, even of highly cultivated minds, are unacquainted - with Squire Bluster and Mrs. Busy, Quisquilius and Venustulus, - the Allegory of Wit and Learning, the Chronicle of the Revolutions - of a Garret, and the sad fate of Aningait and Ajut. 10 - - 26. The last Rambler was written in a sad and gloomy - hour. Mrs. Johnson had been given over by the physicians. - Three days later she died. She left her husband almost - broken-hearted. Many people had been surprised to see a - man of his genius and learning stooping to every drudgery, 15 - and denying himself almost every comfort, for the purpose of - supplying a silly, affected old woman with superfluities, which - she accepted with but little gratitude. But all his affection - had been concentrated on her. He had neither brother nor - sister, neither son nor daughter. To him she was beautiful as 20 - the Gunnings, and witty as Lady Mary. Her opinion of his - writings was more important to him than the voice of the - pit of Drury Lane Theatre or the judgment of the Monthly - Review. The chief support which had sustained him through - the most arduous labour of his life was the hope that she would 25 - enjoy the fame and the profit which he anticipated from his - Dictionary. She was gone; and in that vast labyrinth of - streets, peopled by eight hundred thousand human beings, - he was alone. Yet it was necessary for him to set himself, as - he expressed it, doggedly to work. After three more laborious 30 - years, the Dictionary was at length complete. - - 27. It had been generally supposed that this great work - would be dedicated to the eloquent and accomplished nobleman - to whom the prospectus had been addressed. He well - knew the value of such a compliment; and therefore, when - the day of publication drew near, he exerted himself to soothe, - by a show of zealous and at the same time of delicate and - judicious kindness, the pride which he had so cruelly wounded. - Since the Ramblers had ceased to appear, the town had been 5 - entertained by a journal called The World, to which many men - of high rank and fashion contributed. In two successive numbers - of the World the Dictionary was, to use the modern phrase, - puffed with wonderful skill. The writings of Johnson were - warmly praised. It was proposed that he should be invested 10 - with the authority of a Dictator, nay, of a Pope, over our - language, and that his decisions about the meaning and the - spelling of words should be received as final. His two folios, - it was said, would of course be bought by everybody who could - afford to buy them. It was soon known that these papers were 15 - written by Chesterfield. But the just resentment of Johnson - was not to be so appeased. In a letter written with singular - energy and dignity of thought and language, he repelled the - tardy advances of his patron. The Dictionary came forth without - a dedication. In the preface the author truly declared that 20 - he owed nothing to the great, and described the difficulties with - which he had been left to struggle so forcibly and pathetically - that the ablest and most malevolent of all the enemies of his - fame, Horne Tooke, never could read that passage without tears. - - 28. The public, on this occasion, did Johnson full justice, 25 - and something more than justice. The best lexicographer - may well be content if his productions are received by the - world with cold esteem. But Johnson's Dictionary was hailed - with an enthusiasm such as no similar work has ever excited. - It was indeed the first dictionary which could be read with 30 - pleasure. The definitions show so much acuteness of thought - and command of language, and the passages quoted from poets, - divines, and philosophers are so skilfully selected, that a leisure - hour may always be very agreeably spent in turning over the - pages. The faults of the book resolve themselves, for the most - part, into one great fault. Johnson was a wretched etymologist. - He knew little or nothing of any Teutonic language - except English, which indeed, as he wrote it, was scarcely a - Teutonic language; and thus he was absolutely at the mercy 5 - of Junius and Skinner. - - 29. The Dictionary, though it raised Johnson's fame, added - nothing to his pecuniary means. The fifteen hundred guineas - which the booksellers had agreed to pay him had been advanced - and spent before the last sheets issued from the press. It is 10 - painful to relate that, twice in the course of the year which - followed the publication of this great work, he was arrested - and carried to spunging-houses, and that he was twice indebted - for his liberty to his excellent friend Richardson. It was still - necessary for the man who had been formally saluted by the 15 - highest authority as Dictator of the English language to supply - his wants by constant toil. He abridged his Dictionary. He - proposed to bring out an edition of Shakspeare by subscription; - and many subscribers sent in their names and laid down their - money; but he soon found the task so little to his taste that 20 - he turned to more attractive employments. He contributed - many papers to a new monthly journal, which was called the - Literary Magazine. Few of these papers have much interest; - but among them was the very best thing that he ever wrote, a - masterpiece both of reasoning and of satirical pleasantry, the 25 - review of Jenyns's Inquiry into the Nature and Origin of Evil. - - 30. In the spring of 1758 Johnson put forth the first of a - series of essays, entitled The Idler. During two years these - essays continued to appear weekly. They were eagerly read, - widely circulated, and, indeed, impudently pirated, while they 30 - were still in the original form, and had a large sale when - collected into volumes. The Idler may be described as a second - part of the Rambler, somewhat livelier and somewhat weaker - than the first part. - - 31. While Johnson was busied with his Idlers, his mother, who - had accomplished her ninetieth year, died at Lichfield. It was - long since he had seen her; but he had not failed to contribute - largely, out of his small means, to her comfort. In order to - defray the charges of her funeral, and to pay some debts which 5 - she had left, he wrote a little book in a single week, and sent - off the sheets to the press without reading them over. A - hundred pounds were paid him for the copyright; and the - purchasers had great cause to be pleased with their bargain; - for the book was Rasselas. 10 - - 32. The success of Rasselas was great, though such ladies - as Miss Lydia Languish must have been grievously disappointed - when they found that the new volume from the circulating - library was little more than a dissertation on the author's - favourite theme, the Vanity of Human Wishes; that the Prince 15 - of Abyssinia was without a mistress, and the Princess without a - lover; and that the story set the hero and the heroine down - exactly where it had taken them up. The style was the subject - of much eager controversy. The Monthly Review and the - Critical Review took different sides. Many readers pronounced 20 - the writer a pompous pedant, who would never use a word of - two syllables where it was possible to use a word of six, and - who could not make a waiting woman relate her adventures - without balancing every noun with another noun, and every - epithet with another epithet. Another party, not less zealous, 25 - cited with delight numerous passages in which weighty meaning - was expressed with accuracy and illustrated with splendour. - And both the censure and the praise were merited. - - 33. About the plan of Rasselas little was said by the - critics; and yet the faults of the plan might seem to invite 30 - severe criticism. Johnson has frequently blamed Shakspeare - for neglecting the proprieties of time and place, and for ascribing - to one age or nation the manners and opinions of another. - Yet Shakspeare has not sinned in this way more grievously - than Johnson. Rasselas and Imlac, Nekayah and Pekuah, are - evidently meant to be Abyssinians of the eighteenth century: - for the Europe which Imlac describes is the Europe of the - eighteenth century; and the inmates of the Happy Valley - talk familiarly of that law of gravitation which Newton 5 - discovered, and which was not fully received even at Cambridge - till the eighteenth century. What a real company of Abyssinians - would have been may be learned from Bruce's Travels. - But Johnson, not content with turning filthy savages, ignorant - of their letters, and gorged with raw steaks cut from living 10 - cows, into philosophers as eloquent and enlightened as himself - or his friend Burke, and into ladies as highly accomplished as - Mrs. Lennox or Mrs. Sheridan, transferred the whole domestic - system of England to Egypt. Into a land of harems, a land of - polygamy, a land where women are married without ever being 15 - seen, he introduced the flirtations and jealousies of our - ballrooms. In a land where there is boundless liberty of divorce, - wedlock is described as the indissoluble compact. "A youth - and maiden meeting by chance, or brought together by artifice, - exchange glances, reciprocate civilities, go home, and dream 20 - of each other. Such," says Rasselas, "is the common process - of marriage." Such it may have been, and may still be, in - London, but assuredly not at Cairo. A writer who was guilty - of such improprieties had little right to blame the poet who - made Hector quote Aristotle, and represented Julio Romano 25 - as flourishing in the days of the oracle of Delphi. - - 34. By such exertions as have been described, Johnson - supported himself till the year 1762. In that year a great - change in his circumstances took place. He had from a child - been an enemy of the reigning dynasty. His Jacobite prejudices 30 - had been exhibited with little disguise both in his works - and in his conversation. Even in his massy and elaborate - Dictionary, he had, with a strange want of taste and judgment, - inserted bitter and contumelious reflections on the Whig party. - The excise, which was a favourite resource of Whig financiers, - he had designated as a hateful tax. He had railed against the - commissioners of excise in language so coarse that they had - seriously thought of prosecuting him. He had with difficulty - been prevented from holding up the Lord Privy Seal by name 5 - as an example of the meaning of the word "renegade." A - pension he had defined as pay given to a state hireling to betray - his country; a pensioner as a slave of state hired by a stipend - to obey a master. It seemed unlikely that the author of these - definitions would himself be pensioned. But that was a time 10 - of wonders. George the Third had ascended the throne; and - had, in the course of a few months, disgusted many of the old - friends and conciliated many of the old enemies of his house. - The city was becoming mutinous. Oxford was becoming loyal. - Cavendishes and Bentincks were murmuring. Somersets and 15 - Wyndhams were hastening to kiss hands. The head of the - treasury was now Lord Bute, who was a Tory, and could have - no objection to Johnson's Toryism. Bute wished to be thought - a patron of men of letters; and Johnson was one of the most - eminent and one of the most needy men of letters in Europe. 20 - A pension of three hundred a year was graciously offered, and - with very little hesitation accepted. - - 35. This event produced a change in Johnson's whole way - of life. For the first time since his boyhood he no longer felt - the daily goad urging him to the daily toil. He was at liberty, 25 - after thirty years of anxiety and drudgery, to indulge his - constitutional indolence, to lie in bed till two in the afternoon, - and to sit up talking till four in the morning, without fearing - either the printer's devil or the sheriff's officer. - - 36. One laborious task indeed he had bound himself to 30 - perform. He had received large subscriptions for his promised - edition of Shakspeare; he had lived on those subscriptions - during some years; and he could not without disgrace omit - to perform his part of the contract. His friends repeatedly - exhorted him to make an effort; and he repeatedly resolved - to do so. But, notwithstanding their exhortations and his - resolutions, month followed month, year followed year, and - nothing was done. He prayed fervently against his idleness; - he determined, as often as he received the sacrament, that 5 - he would no longer doze away and trifle away his time; but - the spell under which he lay resisted prayer and sacrament. - His private notes at this time are made up of self-reproaches. - "My indolence," he wrote on Easter eve in 1764, "has sunk - into grosser sluggishness. A kind of strange oblivion has 10 - overspread me, so that I know not what has become of the last - year." Easter 1765 came, and found him still in the same - state. "My time," he wrote, "has been unprofitably spent, - and seems as a dream that has left nothing behind. My - memory grows confused, and I know not how the days pass 15 - over me." Happily for his honour, the charm which held him - captive was at length broken by no gentle or friendly hand. - He had been weak enough to pay serious attention to a story - about a ghost which haunted a house in Cock Lane, and had - actually gone himself with some of his friends, at one in the 20 - morning, to St. John's Church, Clerkenwell, in the hope of - receiving a communication from the perturbed spirit. But the - spirit, though adjured with all solemnity, remained obstinately - silent; and it soon appeared that a naughty girl of eleven had - been amusing herself by making fools of so many philosophers. 25 - Churchill, who, confident in his powers, drunk with popularity, - and burning with party spirit, was looking for some man of - established fame and Tory politics to insult, celebrated the - Cock Lane Ghost in three cantos, nicknamed Johnson Pomposo, - asked where the book was which had been so long 30 - promised and so liberally paid for, and directly accused the - great moralist of cheating. This terrible word proved effectual; - and in October 1765 appeared, after a delay of nine - years, the new edition of Shakspeare. - - 37. This publication saved Johnson's character for honesty, - but added nothing to the fame of his abilities and learning. - The preface, though it contains some good passages, is not in - his best manner. The most valuable notes are those in which - he had an opportunity of showing how attentively he had 5 - during many years observed human life and human nature. - The best specimen is the note on the character of Polonius. - Nothing so good is to be found even in Wilhelm Meister's - admirable examination of Hamlet. But here praise must end. - It would be difficult to name a more slovenly, a more worthless 10 - edition of any great classic. The reader may turn over play - after play without finding one happy conjectural emendation, - or one ingenious and satisfactory explanation of a passage - which had baffled preceding commentators. Johnson had, in - his prospectus, told the world that he was peculiarly fitted for 15 - the task which he had undertaken, because he had, as a - lexicographer, been under the necessity of taking a wider view of - the English language than any of his predecessors. That his - knowledge of our literature was extensive is indisputable. But, - unfortunately, he had altogether neglected that very part of 20 - our literature with which it is especially desirable that an editor - of Shakspeare should be conversant. It is dangerous to assert - a negative. Yet little will be risked by the assertion, that in - the two folio volumes of the English Dictionary there is not a - single passage quoted from any dramatist of the Elizabethan 25 - age, except Shakspeare and Ben. Even from Ben the quotations - are few. Johnson might easily, in a few months, have - made himself well acquainted with every old play that was - extant. But it never seems to have occurred to him that this - was a necessary preparation for the work which he had undertaken. 30 - He would doubtless have admitted that it would be - the height of absurdity in a man who was not familiar with - the works of Ęschylus and Euripides to publish an edition of - Sophocles. Yet he ventured to publish an edition of Shakspeare, - without having ever in his life, as far as can be discovered, - read a single scene of Massinger, Ford, Decker, Webster, - Marlow, Beaumont, or Fletcher. His detractors were noisy - and scurrilous. Those who most loved and honoured him had - little to say in praise of the manner in which he had discharged 5 - the duty of a commentator. He had, however, acquitted himself - of a debt which had long lain heavy on his conscience; - and he sank back into the repose from which the sting of satire - had roused him. He long continued to live upon the fame - which he had already won. He was honoured by the University 10 - of Oxford with a Doctor's degree, by the Royal Academy - with a professorship, and by the King with an interview, in - which his Majesty most graciously expressed a hope that so - excellent a writer would not cease to write. In the interval, - however, between 1765 and 1775 Johnson published only two 15 - or three political tracts, the longest of which he could have - produced in forty-eight hours, if he had worked as he worked - on the Life of Savage and on Rasselas. - - 38. But, though his pen was now idle, his tongue was active. - The influence exercised by his conversation, directly upon 20 - those with whom he lived, and indirectly on the whole literary - world, was altogether without a parallel. His colloquial talents - were indeed of the highest order. He had strong sense, quick - discernment, wit, humour, immense knowledge of literature - and of life, and an infinite store of curious anecdotes. As 25 - respected style, he spoke far better than he wrote. Every sentence - which dropped from his lips was as correct in structure - as the most nicely balanced period of the Rambler. But in - his talk there were no pompous triads, and little more than a fair - proportion of words in _osity_ and _ation_. All was simplicity, 30 - ease, and vigour. He uttered his short, weighty, and pointed - sentences with a power of voice, and a justness and energy of - emphasis, of which the effect was rather increased than diminished - by the rollings of his huge form, and by the asthmatic - gaspings and puffings in which the peals of his eloquence generally - ended. Nor did the laziness which made him unwilling - to sit down to his desk prevent him from giving instruction or - entertainment orally. To discuss questions of taste, of learning, - of casuistry, in language so exact and so forcible that it might 5 - have been printed without the alteration of a word, was to him - no exertion, but a pleasure. He loved, as he said, to fold his - legs and have his talk out. He was ready to bestow the overflowings - of his full mind on anybody who would start a subject, - on a fellow-passenger in a stage coach, or on the person who 10 - sate at the same table with him in an eating-house. But his - conversation was nowhere so brilliant and striking as when he - was surrounded by a few friends, whose abilities and knowledge - enabled them, as he once expressed it, to send him back every - ball that he threw. Some of these, in 1764, formed themselves 15 - into a club, which gradually became a formidable power in the - commonwealth of letters. The verdicts pronounced by this - conclave on new books were speedily known over all London, - and were sufficient to sell off a whole edition in a day, or to - condemn the sheets to the service of the trunk-maker and the 20 - pastry-cook. Nor shall we think this strange when we consider - what great and various talents and acquirements met in the - little fraternity. Goldsmith was the representative of poetry - and light literature, Reynolds of the arts, Burke of political - eloquence and political philosophy. There, too, were Gibbon, 25 - the greatest historian, and Jones, the greatest linguist, of the - age. Garrick brought to the meetings his inexhaustible pleasantry, - his incomparable mimicry, and his consummate knowledge - of stage effect. Among the most constant attendants - were two high-born and high-bred gentlemen, closely bound 30 - together by friendship, but of widely different characters and - habits; Bennet Langton, distinguished by his skill in Greek - literature, by the orthodoxy of his opinions, and by the sanctity - of his life; and Topham Beauclerk, renowned for his amours, - his knowledge of the gay world, his fastidious taste, and his - sarcastic wit. To predominate over such a society was not - easy. Yet even over such a society Johnson predominated. - Burke might indeed have disputed the supremacy to which - others were under the necessity of submitting. But Burke, 5 - though not generally a very patient listener, was content to - take the second part when Johnson was present; and the - club itself, consisting of so many eminent men, is to this - day popularly designated as Johnson's Club. - - 39. Among the members of this celebrated body was one 10 - to whom it has owed the greater part of its celebrity, yet who - was regarded with little respect by his brethren, and had not - without difficulty obtained a seat among them. This was - James Boswell, a young Scotch lawyer, heir to an honourable - name and a fair estate. That he was a coxcomb and a bore, 15 - weak, vain, pushing, curious, garrulous, was obvious to all who - were acquainted with him. That he could not reason, that - he had no wit, no humour, no eloquence, is apparent from - his writings. And yet his writings are read beyond the - Mississippi, and under the Southern Cross, and are likely to be 20 - read as long as the English exists, either as a living or as a - dead language. Nature had made him a slave and an idolater. - His mind resembled those creepers which the botanists call - parasites, and which can subsist only by clinging round the - stems and imbibing the juices of stronger plants. He must 25 - have fastened himself on somebody. He might have fastened - himself on Wilkes, and have become the fiercest patriot in the - Bill of Rights Society. He might have fastened himself on - Whitfield, and have become the loudest field preacher among - the Calvinistic Methodists. In a happy hour he fastened himself 30 - on Johnson. The pair might seem ill matched. For - Johnson had early been prejudiced against Boswell's country. - To a man of Johnson's strong understanding and irritable - temper, the silly egotism and adulation of Boswell must have - been as teasing as the constant buzz of a fly. Johnson hated - to be questioned; and Boswell was eternally catechising him - on all kinds of subjects, and sometimes propounded such - questions as "What would you do, sir, if you were locked up - in a tower with a baby?" Johnson was a water drinker; and 5 - Boswell was a wine-bibber, and indeed little better than a - habitual sot. It was impossible that there should be perfect - harmony between two such companions. Indeed, the great - man was sometimes provoked into fits of passion in which he - said things which the small man, during a few hours, seriously 10 - resented. Every quarrel, however, was soon made up. During - twenty years the disciple continued to worship the master: - the master continued to scold the disciple, to sneer at him, and - to love him. The two friends ordinarily resided at a great - distance from each other. Boswell practised in the Parliament 15 - House of Edinburgh, and could pay only occasional - visits to London. During those visits his chief business was - to watch Johnson, to discover all Johnson's habits, to turn the - conversation to subjects about which Johnson was likely to - say something remarkable, and to fill quarto note books with 20 - minutes of what Johnson had said. In this way were gathered - the materials out of which was afterwards constructed the most - interesting biographical work in the world. - - 40. Soon after the club began to exist, Johnson formed a - connection less important indeed to his fame, but much more 25 - important to his happiness, than his connection with Boswell. - Henry Thrale, one of the most opulent brewers in the kingdom, - a man of sound and cultivated understanding, rigid principles, - and liberal spirit, was married to one of those clever, - kind-hearted, engaging, vain, pert young women, who are 30 - perpetually doing or saying what is not exactly right, but who, do - or say what they may, are always agreeable. In 1765 the - Thrales became acquainted with Johnson, and the acquaintance - ripened fast into friendship. They were astonished and - delighted by the brilliancy of his conversation. They were - flattered by finding that a man so widely celebrated, preferred - their house to any other in London. Even the peculiarities - which seemed to unfit him for civilised society, his gesticulations, - his rollings, his puffings, his mutterings, the strange way 5 - in which he put on his clothes, the ravenous eagerness with - which he devoured his dinner, his fits of melancholy, his fits of - anger, his frequent rudeness, his occasional ferocity, increased - the interest which his new associates took in him. For these - things were the cruel marks left behind by a life which had 10 - been one long conflict with disease and with adversity. In a - vulgar hack writer such oddities would have excited only disgust. - But in a man of genius, learning, and virtue their effect - was to add pity to admiration and esteem. Johnson soon had - an apartment at the brewery in Southwark, and a still more 15 - pleasant apartment at the villa of his friends on Streatham - Common. A large part of every year he passed in those - abodes, abodes which must have seemed magnificent and luxurious - indeed, when compared with the dens in which he had - generally been lodged. But his chief pleasures were derived 20 - from what the astronomer of his Abyssinian tale called "the - endearing elegance of female friendship." Mrs. Thrale rallied - him, soothed him, coaxed him, and, if she sometimes provoked - him by her flippancy, made ample amends by listening to his - reproofs with angelic sweetness of temper. When he was 25 - diseased in body and in mind, she was the most tender of - nurses. No comfort that wealth could purchase, no contrivance - that womanly ingenuity, set to work by womanly compassion, - could devise, was wanting to his sick-room. He - requited her kindness by an affection pure as the affection of 30 - a father, yet delicately tinged with a gallantry which, though - awkward, must have been more flattering than the attentions - of a crowd of the fools who gloried in the names, now obsolete, - of Buck and Maccaroni. It should seem that a full half of - Johnson's life, during about sixteen years, was passed under - the roof of the Thrales. He accompanied the family sometimes - to Bath, and sometimes to Brighton, once to Wales, and once - to Paris. But he had at the same time a house in one of the - narrow and gloomy courts on the north of Fleet Street. In 5 - the garrets was his library, a large and miscellaneous collection - of books, falling to pieces and begrimed with dust. On - a lower floor he sometimes, but very rarely, regaled a friend - with a plain dinner, a veal pie, or a leg of lamb and spinage, - and a rice pudding. Nor was the dwelling uninhabited during 10 - his long absences. It was the home of the most extraordinary - assemblage of inmates that ever was brought together. At - the head of the establishment Johnson had placed an old - lady named Williams, whose chief recommendations were her - blindness and her poverty. But, in spite of her murmurs and 15 - reproaches, he gave an asylum to another lady who was as poor - as herself, Mrs. Desmoulins, whose family he had known many - years before in Staffordshire. Room was found for the daughter - of Mrs. Desmoulins, and for another destitute damsel, who was - generally addressed as Miss Carmichael, but whom her generous 20 - host called Polly. An old quack doctor named Levett, - who bled and dosed coal-heavers and hackney coachmen, and - received for fees crusts of bread, bits of bacon, glasses of gin, - and sometimes a little copper, completed this strange menagerie. - All these poor creatures were at constant war with each 25 - other, and with Johnson's negro servant Frank. Sometimes, - indeed, they transferred their hostilities from the servant to - the master, complained that a better table was not kept for - them, and railed or maundered till their benefactor was glad to - make his escape to Streatham, or to the Mitre Tavern. And 30 - yet he, who was generally the haughtiest and most irritable - of mankind, who was but too prompt to resent anything which - looked like a slight on the part of a purse-proud bookseller, - or of a noble and powerful patron, bore patiently from - mendicants, who, but for his bounty, must have gone to the - workhouse, insults more provoking than those for which he had - knocked down Osborne and bidden defiance to Chesterfield. - Year after year Mrs. Williams and Mrs. Desmoulins, Polly, and - Levett continued to torment him and to live upon him. 5 - - 41. The course of life which has been described was - interrupted in Johnson's sixty-fourth year by an important - event. He had early read an account of the Hebrides, and - had been much interested by learning that there was so near - him a land peopled by a race which was still as rude and 10 - simple as in the middle ages. A wish to become intimately - acquainted with a state of society so utterly unlike all that he - had ever seen frequently crossed his mind. But it is not - probable that his curiosity would have overcome his habitual - sluggishness, and his love of the smoke, the mud, and the 15 - cries of London, had not Boswell importuned him to attempt - the adventure, and offered to be his squire. At length, in - August 1773, Johnson crossed the Highland line, and plunged - courageously into what was then considered, by most Englishmen, - as a dreary and perilous wilderness. After wandering 20 - about two months through the Celtic region, sometimes in - rude boats which did not protect him from the rain, and - sometimes on small shaggy ponies which could hardly bear - his weight, he returned to his old haunts with a mind full of - new images and new theories. During the following year he 25 - employed himself in recording his adventures. About the - beginning of 1775, his Journey to the Hebrides was published, - and was, during some weeks, the chief subject of conversation - in all circles in which any attention was paid to literature. - The book is still read with pleasure. The narrative is 30 - entertaining; the speculations, whether sound or unsound, are - always ingenious; and the style, though too stiff and pompous, - is somewhat easier and more graceful than that of his - early writings. His prejudice against the Scotch had at - length become little more than matter of jest; and whatever - remained of the old feeling had been effectually removed by - the kind and respectful hospitality with which he had been - received in every part of Scotland. It was, of course, not to - be expected that an Oxonian Tory should praise the Presbyterian 5 - polity and ritual, or that an eye accustomed to the - hedgerows and parks of England should not be struck by the - bareness of Berwickshire and East Lothian. But even in - censure Johnson's tone is not unfriendly. The most enlightened - Scotchmen, with Lord Mansfield at their head, were 10 - well pleased. But some foolish and ignorant Scotchmen were - moved to anger by a little unpalatable truth which was - mingled with much eulogy, and assailed him whom they chose - to consider as the enemy of their country, with libels much - more dishonourable to their country than anything that he 15 - had ever said or written. They published paragraphs in the - newspapers, articles in the magazines, sixpenny pamphlets, - five-shilling books. One scribbler abused Johnson for being - blear-eyed; another for being a pensioner; a third informed - the world that one of the Doctor's uncles had been convicted 20 - of felony in Scotland, and had found that there was in that - country one tree capable of supporting the weight of an - Englishman. Macpherson, whose Fingal had been proved - in the Journey to be an impudent forgery, threatened to take - vengeance with a cane. The only effect of this threat was 25 - that Johnson reiterated the charge of forgery in the most - contemptuous terms, and walked about, during some time, - with a cudgel, which, if the impostor had not been too wise - to encounter it, would assuredly have descended upon him, - to borrow the sublime language of his own epic poem, "like 30 - a hammer on the red son of the furnace." - - 42. Of other assailants Johnson took no notice whatever. - He had early resolved never to be drawn into controversy; - and he adhered to his resolution with a steadfastness which - is the more extraordinary, because he was, both intellectually - and morally, of the stuff of which controversialists are made. - In conversation, he was a singularly eager, acute, and pertinacious - disputant. When at a loss for good reasons, he - had recourse to sophistry; and, when heated by altercation, 5 - he made unsparing use of sarcasm and invective. But, when - he took his pen in his hand, his whole character seemed - to be changed. A hundred bad writers misrepresented him - and reviled him; but not one of the hundred could boast of - having been thought by him worthy of a refutation, or even 10 - of a retort. The Kenricks, Campbells, MacNicols, and Hendersons - did their best to annoy him, in the hope that he would - give them importance by answering them. But the reader will - in vain search his works for any allusion to Kenrick or Campbell, - to MacNicol or Henderson. One Scotchman, bent on 15 - vindicating the fame of Scotch learning, defied him to the - combat in a detestable Latin hexameter. - - "Maxime, si tu vis, cupio contendere tecum." - - But Johnson took no notice of the challenge. He had learned, - both from his own observation and from literary history, 20 - in which he was deeply read, that the place of books in - the public estimation is fixed, not by what is written about - them, but by what is written in them; and that an author - whose works are likely to live is very unwise if he stoops to - wrangle with detractors whose works are certain to die. He 25 - always maintained that fame was a shuttlecock which could - be kept up only by being beaten back, as well as beaten forward, - and which would soon fall if there were only one battledore. - No saying was oftener in his mouth than that fine - apophthegm of Bentley, that no man was ever written down 30 - but by himself. - - 43. Unhappily, a few months after the appearance of the - Journey to the Hebrides, Johnson did what none of his - envious assailants could have done, and to a certain extent - succeeded in writing himself down. The disputes between - England and her American colonies had reached a point at - which no amicable adjustment was possible. Civil war was - evidently impending; and the ministers seem to have thought 5 - that the eloquence of Johnson might with advantage be - employed to inflame the nation against the opposition here, - and against the rebels beyond the Atlantic. He had already - written two or three tracts in defence of the foreign and - domestic policy of the government; and those tracts, though 10 - hardly worthy of him, were much superior to the crowd of - pamphlets which lay on the counters of Almon and Stockdale. - But his Taxation no Tyranny was a pitiable failure. The very - title was a silly phrase, which can have been recommended - to his choice by nothing but a jingling alliteration which he 15 - ought to have despised. The arguments were such as boys - use in debating societies. The pleasantry was as awkward as - the gambols of a hippopotamus. Even Boswell was forced to - own that, in this unfortunate piece, he could detect no trace - of his master's powers. The general opinion was that the 20 - strong faculties which had produced the Dictionary and the - Rambler were beginning to feel the effect of time and of - disease, and that the old man would best consult his credit - by writing no more. - - 44. But this was a great mistake. Johnson had failed, not 25 - because his mind was less vigorous than when he wrote Rasselas - in the evenings of a week, but because he had foolishly - chosen, or suffered others to choose for him, a subject such as - he would at no time have been competent to treat. He was - in no sense a statesman. He never willingly read or thought 30 - or talked about affairs of state. He loved biography, literary - history, the history of manners; but political history was - positively distasteful to him. The question at issue between - the colonies and the mother country was a question about - which he had really nothing to say. He failed, therefore, as - the greatest men must fail when they attempt to do that for - which they are unfit; as Burke would have failed if Burke - had tried to write comedies like those of Sheridan; as Reynolds - would have failed if Reynolds had tried to paint landscapes 5 - like those of Wilson. Happily, Johnson soon had an - opportunity of proving most signally that his failure was not - to be ascribed to intellectual decay. - - 45. On Easter eve 1777, some persons, deputed by a meeting - which consisted of forty of the first booksellers in London, 10 - called upon him. Though he had some scruples about doing - business at that season, he received his visitors with much - civility. They came to inform him that a new edition of the English - poets, from Cowley downwards, was in contemplation, and to ask - him to furnish short biographical prefaces. He readily undertook 15 - the task, a task for which he was pre-eminently qualified. - His knowledge of the literary history of England since the - Restoration was unrivalled. That knowledge he had derived - partly from books, and partly from sources which had long been - closed; from old Grub Street traditions; from the talk of 20 - forgotten poetasters and pamphleteers who had long been lying - in parish vaults; from the recollections of such men as Gilbert - Walmesley, who had conversed with the wits of Button's; Cibber, - who had mutilated the plays of two generations of dramatists; - Orrery, who had been admitted to the society of Swift; and 25 - Savage, who had rendered services of no very honourable kind - to Pope. The biographer therefore sate down to his task with - a mind full of matter. He had at first intended to give only - a paragraph to every minor poet, and only four or five pages - to the greatest name. But the flood of anecdote and criticism 30 - overflowed the narrow channel. The work, which was originally - meant to consist only of a few sheets, swelled into ten - volumes, small volumes, it is true, and not closely printed. - The first four appeared in 1779, the remaining six in 1781. - - 46. The Lives of the Poets are, on the whole, the best of - Johnson's works. The narratives are as entertaining as any - novel. The remarks on life and on human nature are eminently - shrewd and profound. The criticisms are often excellent, and, - even when grossly and provokingly unjust, well deserve to be 5 - studied. For, however erroneous they may be, they are never - silly. They are the judgments of a mind trammelled by prejudice - and deficient in sensibility, but vigorous and acute. - They therefore generally contain a portion of valuable truth - which deserves to be separated from the alloy; and, at the 10 - very worst, they mean something, a praise to which much of - what is called criticism in our time has no pretensions. - - 47. Savage's Life Johnson reprinted nearly as it had - appeared in 1744. Whoever, after reading that life, will - turn to the other lives will be struck by the difference of 15 - style. Since Johnson had been at ease in his circumstances - he had written little and had talked much. When, therefore, - he, after the lapse of years, resumed his pen, the mannerism - which he had contracted while he was in the constant habit - of elaborate composition was less perceptible than formerly; 20 - and his diction frequently had a colloquial ease which it had - formerly wanted. The improvement may be discerned by a - skilful critic in the Journey to the Hebrides, and in the Lives - of the Poets is so obvious that it cannot escape the notice of - the most careless reader. 25 - - 48. Among the lives the best are perhaps those of Cowley, - Dryden, and Pope. The very worst is, beyond all doubt, - that of Gray. - - 49. This great work at once became popular. There was, - indeed, much just and much unjust censure: but even those 30 - who were loudest in blame were attracted by the book in - spite of themselves. Malone computed the gains of the publishers - at five or six thousand pounds. But the writer was - very poorly remunerated. Intending at first to write very - short prefaces, he had stipulated for only two hundred guineas. - The booksellers, when they saw how far his performance had - surpassed his promise, added only another hundred. Indeed, - Johnson, though he did not despise, or affect to despise, money, - and though his strong sense and long experience ought to 5 - have qualified him to protect his own interests, seems to have - been singularly unskilful and unlucky in his literary bargains. - He was generally reputed the first English writer of his time. - Yet several writers of his time sold their copyrights for sums - such as he never ventured to ask. To give a single instance, 10 - Robertson received four thousand five hundred pounds for - the History of Charles V.; and it is no disrespect to the - memory of Robertson to say that the History of Charles V. - is both a less valuable and a less amusing book than the Lives - of the Poets. 15 - - 50. Johnson was now in his seventy-second year. The - infirmities of age were coming fast upon him. That inevitable - event of which he never thought without horror was brought - near to him; and his whole life was darkened by the shadow - of death. He had often to pay the cruel price of longevity. 20 - Every year he lost what could never be replaced. The strange - dependents to whom he had given shelter, and to whom, - in spite of their faults, he was strongly attached by habit, - dropped off one by one; and, in the silence of his home, he - regretted even the noise of their scolding matches. The kind 25 - and generous Thrale was no more; and it would have been - well if his wife had been laid beside him. But she survived - to be the laughing-stock of those who had envied her, and - to draw from the eyes of the old man who had loved her - beyond anything in the world tears far more bitter than he 30 - would have shed over her grave. With some estimable and - many agreeable qualities, she was not made to be independent. - The control of a mind more steadfast than her own - was necessary to her respectability. While she was restrained - by her husband, a man of sense and firmness, indulgent to - her taste in trifles, but always the undisputed master of his - house, her worst offences had been impertinent jokes, white - lies, and short fits of pettishness ending in sunny good humour. - But he was gone; and she was left an opulent widow of forty, 5 - with strong sensibility, volatile fancy, and slender judgment. - She soon fell in love with a music-master from Brescia, in - whom nobody but herself could discover anything to admire. - Her pride, and perhaps some better feelings, struggled hard - against this degrading passion. But the struggle irritated her 10 - nerves, soured her temper, and at length endangered her - health. Conscious that her choice was one which Johnson - could not approve, she became desirous to escape from his - inspection. Her manner towards him changed. She was - sometimes cold and sometimes petulant. She did not conceal 15 - her joy when he left Streatham; she never pressed him - to return; and, if he came unbidden, she received him in a - manner which convinced him he was no longer a welcome - guest. He took the very intelligible hints which she gave. - He read, for the last time, a chapter of the Greek Testament in 20 - the library which had been formed by himself. In a solemn - and tender prayer he commended the house and its inmates - to the Divine protection, and, with emotions which choked - his voice and convulsed his powerful frame, left for ever that - beloved home for the gloomy and desolate house behind Fleet 25 - Street, where the few and evil days which still remained to - him were to run out. Here, in June 1783, he had a paralytic - stroke, from which, however, he recovered, and which - does not appear to have at all impaired his intellectual faculties. - But other maladies came thick upon him. His asthma 30 - tormented him day and night. Dropsical symptoms made - their appearance. While sinking under a complication of - diseases, he heard that the woman whose friendship had been - the chief happiness of sixteen years of his life had married an - Italian fiddler; that all London was crying shame upon her; - and that the newspapers and magazines were filled with - allusions to the Ephesian matron, and the two pictures in - Hamlet. He vehemently said that he would try to forget her - existence. He never uttered her name. Every memorial 5 - of her which met his eye he flung into the fire. She meanwhile - fled from the laughter and hisses of her countrymen - and countrywomen to a land where she was unknown, hastened - across Mount Cenis, and learned, while passing a merry - Christmas of concerts and lemonade parties at Milan, that 10 - the great man with whose name hers is inseparably associated - had ceased to exist. - - 51. He had, in spite of much mental and much bodily - affliction, clung vehemently to life. The feeling described - in that fine but gloomy paper which closes the series of his 15 - Idlers seemed to grow stronger in him as his last hour drew - near. He fancied that he should be able to draw his breath - more easily in a southern climate, and would probably have - set out for Rome and Naples, but for his fear of the expense - of the journey. That expense, indeed, he had the means of 20 - defraying; for he had laid up about two thousand pounds, - the fruit of labours which had made the fortune of several - publishers. But he was unwilling to break in upon this hoard, - and he seems to have wished even to keep its existence a - secret. Some of his friends hoped that the government might 25 - be induced to increase his pension to six hundred pounds a - year, but this hope was disappointed, and he resolved to stand - one English winter more. That winter was his last. His - legs grew weaker; his breath grew shorter; the fatal water - gathered fast, in spite of incisions which he, courageous against 30 - pain, but timid against death, urged his surgeons to make - deeper and deeper. Though the tender care which had mitigated - his sufferings during months of sickness at Streatham - was withdrawn, he was not left desolate. The ablest physicians - and surgeons attended him, and refused to accept fees from - him. Burke parted from him with deep emotion. Windham - sate much in the sick-room, arranged the pillows, and sent his - own servant to watch at night by the bed. Frances Burney, - whom the old man had cherished with fatherly kindness, stood 5 - weeping at the door; while Langton, whose piety eminently - qualified him to be an adviser and comforter at such a time, - received the last pressure of his friend's hand within. When - at length the moment, dreaded through so many years, came - close, the dark cloud passed away from Johnson's mind. His 10 - temper became unusually patient and gentle; he ceased to - think with terror of death, and of that which lies beyond - death; and he spoke much of the mercy of God, and of the - propitiation of Christ. In this serene frame of mind he died - on the 13th of December 1784. He was laid, a week later, 15 - in Westminster Abbey, among the eminent men of whom he - had been the historian,--Cowley and Denham, Dryden and - Congreve, Gay, Prior, and Addison. - - 52. Since his death the popularity of his works--the Lives - of the Poets, and, perhaps, the Vanity of Human Wishes, 20 - excepted--has greatly diminished. His Dictionary has been - altered by editors till it can scarcely be called his. An allusion - to his Rambler or his Idler is not readily apprehended in - literary circles. The fame even of Rasselas has grown somewhat - dim. But, though the celebrity of the writings may have 25 - declined, the celebrity of the writer, strange to say, is as great - as ever. Boswell's book has done for him more than the best - of his own books could do. The memory of other authors is - kept alive by their works. But the memory of Johnson keeps - many of his works alive. The old philosopher is still among 30 - us in the brown coat with the metal buttons and the shirt which - ought to be at wash, blinking, puffing, rolling his head, drumming - with his fingers, tearing his meat like a tiger, and swallowing - his tea in oceans. No human being who has been more - than seventy years in the grave is so well known to us. And - it is but just to say that our intimate acquaintance with what - he would himself have called the anfractuosities of his intellect - and of his temper serves only to strengthen our conviction that - he was both a great and a good man. 5 - - - - -FROM MACAULAY'S ESSAY ON CROKER'S EDITION OF BOSWELL'S LIFE OF JOHNSON - -(_Edinburgh Review, September, 1831_) - - - 1. The Life of Johnson is assuredly a great, a very great - work. Homer is not more decidedly the first of heroic poets, - Shakspeare is not more decidedly the first of dramatists, - Demosthenes is not more decidedly the first of orators, than - Boswell is the first of biographers. He has no second. He has 5 - distanced all his competitors so decidedly that it is not worth - while to place them. Eclipse is first, and the rest nowhere. - - 2. We are not sure that there is in the whole history of the - human intellect so strange a phęnomenon as this book. Many - of the greatest men that ever lived have written biography. 10 - Boswell was one of the smallest men that ever lived, and he has - beaten them all. He was, if we are to give any credit to his - own account or to the united testimony of all who knew him, a - man of the meanest and feeblest intellect. Johnson described - him as a fellow who had missed his only chance of immortality 15 - by not having been alive when the Dunciad was written. - Beauclerk used his name as a proverbial expression for a bore. - He was the laughing-stock of the whole of that brilliant society - which has owed to him the greater part of its fame. He was - always laying himself at the feet of some eminent man, and 20 - begging to be spit upon and trampled upon. He was always - earning some ridiculous nickname, and then "binding it as a - crown unto him," not merely in metaphor, but literally. He - exhibited himself, at the Shakspeare Jubilee, to all the crowd - which filled Stratford-on-Avon, with a placard round his hat - bearing the inscription of Corsica Boswell. In his Tour he - proclaimed to all the world that at Edinburgh he was known 5 - by the appellation of Paoli Boswell. Servile and impertinent, - shallow and pedantic, a bigot and a sot, bloated with family - pride, and eternally blustering about the dignity of a born - gentleman, yet stooping to be a tale-bearer, an eavesdropper, - a common butt in the taverns of London, so curious to know 10 - every body who was talked about, that, Tory and high Churchman - as he was, he manoeuvred, we have been told, for an introduction - to Tom Paine, so vain of the most childish distinctions, - that when he had been to court, he drove to the office where - his book was printing without changing his clothes, and summoned 15 - all the printer's devils to admire his new ruffles and - sword; such was this man, and such he was content and proud - to be. Every thing which another man would have hidden, - every thing the publication of which would have made another - man hang himself, was matter of gay and clamorous exultation 20 - to his weak and diseased mind. What silly things he said, - what bitter retorts he provoked, how at one place he was - troubled with evil presentiments which came to nothing, how - at another place, on waking from a drunken doze, he read the - prayerbook and took a hair of the dog that had bitten him, 25 - how he went to see men hanged and came away maudlin, how - he added five hundred pounds to the fortune of one of his babies - because she was not scared at Johnson's ugly face, how he was - frightened out of his wits at sea, and how the sailors quieted - him as they would have quieted a child, how tipsy he was at 30 - Lady Cork's one evening and how much his merriment annoyed - the ladies, how impertinent he was to the Duchess of Argyle - and with what stately contempt she put down his impertinence, - how Colonel Macleod sneered to his face at his impudent - obtrusiveness, how his father and the very wife of his bosom - laughed and fretted at his fooleries; all these things he proclaimed - to all the world, as if they had been subjects for pride - and ostentatious rejoicing. All the caprices of his temper, all - the illusions of his vanity, all his hypochondriac whimsies, all 5 - his castles in the air, he displayed with a cool self-complacency, - a perfect unconsciousness that he was making a fool of himself, - to which it is impossible to find a parallel in the whole history - of mankind. He has used many people ill; but assuredly - he has used nobody so ill as himself. 10 - - 3. That such a man should have written one of the best - books in the world is strange enough. But this is not all. - Many persons who have conducted themselves foolishly in - active life, and whose conversation has indicated no superior - powers of mind, have left us valuable works. Goldsmith was 15 - very justly described by one of his contemporaries as an - inspired idiot, and by another as a being - - "Who wrote like an angel, and talked like poor Poll." - - La Fontaine was in society a mere simpleton. His blunders - would not come in amiss among the stories of Hierocles. But 20 - these men attained literary eminence in spite of their weaknesses. - Boswell attained it by reason of his weaknesses. If - he had not been a great fool, he would never have been a - great writer. Without all the qualities which made him the - jest and the torment of those among whom he lived, without 25 - the officiousness, the inquisitiveness, the effrontery, the - toad-eating, the insensibility to all reproof, he never could have - produced so excellent a book. He was a slave, proud of his - servitude, a Paul Pry, convinced that his own curiosity and - garrulity were virtues, an unsafe companion who never scrupled 30 - to repay the most liberal hospitality by the basest violation of - confidence, a man without delicacy, without shame, without - sense enough to know when he was hurting the feelings of - others or when he was exposing himself to derision; and - because he was all this, he has, in an important department - of literature, immeasurably surpassed such writers as Tacitus, - Clarendon, Alfieri, and his own idol Johnson. - - 4. Of the talents which ordinarily raise men to eminence 5 - as writers, Boswell had absolutely none. There is not in all - his books a single remark of his own on literature, politics, - religion, or society, which is not either commonplace or absurd. - His dissertations on hereditary gentility, on the slave-trade, - and on the entailing of landed estates, may serve as examples. 10 - To say that these passages are sophistical would be to pay - them an extravagant compliment. They have no pretence to - argument, or even to meaning. He has reported innumerable - observations made by himself in the course of conversation. - Of those observations we do not remember one which is above 15 - the intellectual capacity of a boy of fifteen. He has printed - many of his own letters, and in these letters he is always ranting - or twaddling. Logic, eloquence, wit, taste, all those things - which are generally considered as making a book valuable, were - utterly wanting to him. He had, indeed, a quick observation 20 - and a retentive memory. These qualities, if he had been a - man of sense and virtue, would scarcely of themselves have sufficed - to make him conspicuous; but, because he was a dunce, - a parasite, and a coxcomb, they have made him immortal. - - 5. Those parts of his book which, considered abstractedly, 25 - are most utterly worthless, are delightful when we read them - as illustrations of the character of the writer. Bad in themselves, - they are good dramatically, like the nonsense of Justice - Shallow, the clipped English of Dr. Caius, or the misplaced - consonants of Fluellen. Of all confessors, Boswell is the most 30 - candid. Other men who have pretended to lay open their - own hearts, Rousseau, for example, and Lord Byron, have - evidently written with a constant view to effect, and are to be - then most distrusted when they seem to be most sincere. - There is scarcely any man who would not rather accuse himself - of great crimes and of dark and tempestuous passions, - than proclaim all his little vanities and wild fancies. It would - be easier to find a person who would avow actions like those - of Cęsar Borgia or Danton, than one who would publish a 5 - daydream like those of Alnaschar and Malvolio. Those weaknesses - which most men keep covered up in the most secret - places of the mind, not to be disclosed to the eye of friendship - or of love, were precisely the weaknesses which Boswell - paraded before all the world. He was perfectly frank, because 10 - the weakness of his understanding and the tumult of his spirits - prevented him from knowing when he made himself ridiculous. - His book resembles nothing so much as the conversation of - the inmates of the Palace of Truth. - - 6. His fame is great; and it will, we have no doubt, be 15 - lasting; but it is fame of a peculiar kind, and indeed - marvellously resembles infamy. We remember no other case in - which the world has made so great a distinction between a - book and its author. In general, the book and the author - are considered as one. To admire the book is to admire the 20 - author. The case of Boswell is an exception, we think the - only exception, to this rule. His work is universally allowed - to be interesting, instructive, eminently original: yet it has - brought him nothing but contempt. All the world reads it: - all the world delights in it: yet we do not remember ever to 25 - have read or ever to have heard any expression of respect and - admiration for the man to whom we owe so much instruction - and amusement. While edition after edition of his book was - coming forth, his son, as Mr. Croker tells us, was ashamed of - it, and hated to hear it mentioned. This feeling was natural 30 - and reasonable. Sir Alexander saw that, in proportion to the - celebrity of the work, was the degradation of the author. The - very editors of this unfortunate gentleman's books have forgotten - their allegiance, and, like those Puritan casuists who - took arms by the authority of the king against his person, - have attacked the writer while doing homage to the writings. - Mr. Croker, for example, has published two thousand five - hundred notes on the life of Johnson, and yet scarcely ever - mentions the biographer whose performance he has taken such 5 - pains to illustrate without some expression of contempt. - - 7. An ill-natured man Boswell certainly was not. Yet the - malignity of the most malignant satirist could scarcely cut - deeper than his thoughtless loquacity. Having himself no - sensibility to derision and contempt, he took it for granted 10 - that all others were equally callous. He was not ashamed to - exhibit himself to the whole world as a common spy, a common - tattler, a humble companion without the excuse of poverty, - and to tell a hundred stories of his own pertness and - folly, and of the insults which his pertness and folly brought 15 - upon him. It was natural that he should show little discretion - in cases in which the feelings or the honour of others - might be concerned. No man, surely, ever published such - stories respecting persons whom he professed to love and - revere. He would infallibly have made his hero as contemptible 20 - as he has made himself, had not his hero really - possessed some moral and intellectual qualities of a very high - order. The best proof that Johnson was really an extraordinary - man is that his character, instead of being degraded, has, - on the whole, been decidedly raised by a work in which all 25 - his vices and weaknesses are exposed more unsparingly than - they ever were exposed by Churchill or by Kenrick. - - 8. Johnson grown old, Johnson in the fulness of his fame - and in the enjoyment of a competent fortune, is better known - to us than any other man in history. Every thing about him, his 30 - coat, his wig, his figure, his face, his scrofula, his St. Vitus's - dance, his rolling walk, his blinking eye, the outward signs - which too clearly marked his approbation of his dinner, his - insatiable appetite for fish-sauce and veal-pie with plums, his - inextinguishable thirst for tea, his trick of touching the posts - as he walked, his mysterious practice of treasuring up scraps of - orange-peel, his morning slumbers, his midnight disputations, - his contortions, his mutterings, his gruntings, his puffings, - his vigorous, acute, and ready eloquence, his sarcastic wit, his 5 - vehemence, his insolence, his fits of tempestuous rage, his - queer inmates, old Mr. Levett and blind Mrs. Williams, the cat - Hodge and the negro Frank, all are as familiar to us as the - objects by which we have been surrounded from childhood. - But we have no minute information respecting those years of 10 - Johnson's life during which his character and his manners - became immutably fixed. We know him, not as he was known - to the men of his own generation, but as he was known to men - whose father he might have been. That celebrated club of - which he was the most distinguished member contained few 15 - persons who could remember a time when his fame was not - fully established and his habits completely formed. He had - made himself a name in literature while Reynolds and the - Wartons were still boys. He was about twenty years older - than Burke, Goldsmith, and Gerard Hamilton, about thirty 20 - years older than Gibbon, Beauclerk, and Langton, and about - forty years older than Lord Stowell, Sir William Jones, and - Windham. Boswell and Mrs. Thrale, the two writers from - whom we derive most of our knowledge respecting him, never - saw him till long after he was fifty years old, till most of his 25 - great works had become classical, and till the pension bestowed - on him by the Crown had placed him above poverty. Of those - eminent men who were his most intimate associates towards the - close of his life, the only one, as far as we remember, who knew - him during the first ten or twelve years of his residence in the 30 - capital, was David Garrick; and it does not appear that, during - those years, David Garrick saw much of his fellow-townsman. - - 9. Johnson came up to London precisely at the time when - the condition of a man of letters was most miserable and - degraded. It was a dark night between two sunny days. The - age of patronage had passed away. The age of general curiosity - and intelligence had not arrived. The number of readers - is at present so great that a popular author may subsist in - comfort and opulence on the profits of his works. In the 5 - reigns of William the Third, of Anne, and of George the First, - even such men as Congreve and Addison would scarcely have - been able to live like gentlemen by the mere sale of their - writings. But the deficiency of the natural demand for literature - was, at the close of the seventeenth and at the beginning 10 - of the eighteenth century, more than made up by artificial - encouragement, by a vast system of bounties and premiums. - There was, perhaps, never a time at which the rewards of - literary merit were so splendid, at which men who could write - well found such easy admittance into the most distinguished 15 - society, and to the highest honours of the state. The chiefs - of both the great parties into which the kingdom was divided - patronised literature with emulous munificence. Congreve, - when he had scarcely attained his majority, was rewarded for - his first comedy with places which made him independent for 20 - life. Smith, though his Hippolytus and Phędra failed, would - have been consoled with three hundred a year but for his own - folly. Rowe was not only Poet Laureate, but also land-surveyor - of the customs in the port of London, clerk of the council to - the Prince of Wales, and secretary of the Presentations to the 25 - Lord Chancellor. Hughes was secretary to the Commissions - of the Peace. Ambrose Philips was judge of the Prerogative - Court in Ireland. Locke was Commissioner of Appeals and - of the Board of Trade. Newton was Master of the Mint. - Stepney and Prior were employed in embassies of high dignity 30 - and importance. Gay, who commenced life as an apprentice - to a silk mercer, became a secretary of legation at five-and-twenty. - It was to a poem on the Death of Charles the Second, - and to the City and Country Mouse, that Montague owed - his introduction into public life, his earldom, his garter, and - his Auditorship of the Exchequer. Swift, but for the unconquerable - prejudice of the queen, would have been a bishop. - Oxford, with his white staff in his hand, passed through the - crowd of his suitors to welcome Parnell, when that ingenious 5 - writer deserted the Whigs. Steele was a commissioner of - stamps and a member of Parliament. Arthur Mainwaring was - a commissioner of the customs, and auditor of the imprest. - Tickell was secretary to the Lords Justices of Ireland. Addison - was secretary of state. 10 - - 10. This liberal patronage was brought into fashion, as it - seems, by the magnificent Dorset, almost the only noble versifier - in the court of Charles the Second who possessed talents - for composition which were independent of the aid of a coronet. - Montague owed his elevation to the favour of Dorset, and 15 - imitated through the whole course of his life the liberality to - which he was himself so greatly indebted. The Tory leaders, - Harley and Bolingbroke in particular, vied with the chiefs of - the Whig party in zeal for the encouragement of letters. But - soon after the accession of the House of Hanover a change 20 - took place. The supreme power passed to a man who cared - little for poetry or eloquence. The importance of the House - of Commons was constantly on the increase. The government - was under the necessity of bartering for Parliamentary support - much of that patronage which had been employed in fostering 25 - literary merit; and Walpole was by no means inclined to - divert any part of the fund of corruption to purposes which he - considered as idle. He had eminent talents for government - and for debate. But he had paid little attention to books, - and felt little respect for authors. One of the coarse jokes of 30 - his friend, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, was far more pleasing - to him than Thomson's Seasons or Richardson's Pamela. - He had observed that some of the distinguished writers - whom the favour of Halifax had turned into statesmen had - been mere encumbrances to their party, dawdlers in office, - and mutes in Parliament. During the whole course of his - administration, therefore, he scarcely befriended a single man - of genius. The best writers of the age gave all their support - to the opposition, and contributed to excite that discontent 5 - which, after plunging the nation into a foolish and unjust war, - overthrew the minister to make room for men less able and - equally immoral. The opposition could reward its eulogists - with little more than promises and caresses. St. James's would - give nothing: Leicester House had nothing to give. 10 - - 11. Thus, at the time when Johnson commenced his literary - career, a writer had little to hope from the patronage of - powerful individuals. The patronage of the public did not - yet furnish the means of comfortable subsistence. The prices - paid by booksellers to authors were so low that a man of 15 - considerable talents and unremitting industry could do little more - than provide for the day which was passing over him. The - lean kine had eaten up the fat kine. The thin and withered - ears had devoured the good ears. The season of rich harvests - was over, and the period of famine had begun. All that is 20 - squalid and miserable might now be summed up in the word - Poet. That word denoted a creature dressed like a scarecrow, - familiar with compters and spunging-houses, and perfectly - qualified to decide on the comparative merits of the Common - Side in the King's Bench prison and of Mount Scoundrel 25 - in the Fleet. Even the poorest pitied him; and they well - might pity him. For if their condition was equally abject, - their aspirings were not equally high, nor their sense of - insult equally acute. To lodge in a garret up four pair of - stairs, to dine in a cellar among footmen out of place, to 30 - translate ten hours a day for the wages of a ditcher, to be hunted - by bailiffs from one haunt of beggary and pestilence to another, - from Grub Street to St. George's Fields, and from St. George's - Fields to the alleys behind St. Martin's church, to sleep on a - bulk in June and amidst the ashes of a glass-house in December, - to die in a hospital and to be buried in a parish vault, - was the fate of more than one writer who, if he had lived - thirty years earlier, would have been admitted to the sittings - of the Kitcat or the Scriblerus club, would have sat in Parliament, 5 - and would have been intrusted with embassies to the - High Allies; who, if he had lived in our time, would have - found encouragement scarcely less munificent in Albemarle - Street or in Paternoster Row. - - 12. As every climate has its peculiar diseases, so every walk 10 - of life has its peculiar temptations. The literary character, - assuredly, has always had its share of faults, vanity, jealousy, - morbid sensibility. To these faults were now superadded the - faults which are commonly found in men whose livelihood is - precarious, and whose principles are exposed to the trial of 15 - severe distress. All the vices of the gambler and of the beggar - were blended with those of the author. The prizes in the - wretched lottery of book-making were scarcely less ruinous than - the blanks. If good fortune came, it came in such a manner - that it was almost certain to be abused. After months of 20 - starvation and despair, a full third night or a well-received - dedication filled the pocket of the lean, ragged, unwashed - poet with guineas. He hastened to enjoy those luxuries with - the images of which his mind had been haunted while he - was sleeping amidst the cinders and eating potatoes at the 25 - Irish ordinary in Shoe Lane. A week of taverns soon qualified - him for another year of night-cellars. Such was the life - of Savage, of Boyse, and of a crowd of others. Sometimes - blazing in gold-laced hats and waistcoats; sometimes lying in - bed because their coats had gone to pieces, or wearing paper 30 - cravats because their linen was in pawn; sometimes drinking - Champagne and Tokay with Betty Careless; sometimes - standing at the window of an eating-house in Porridge island, - to snuff up the scent of what they could not afford to taste; - they knew luxury; they knew beggary; but they never knew - comfort. These men were irreclaimable. They looked on a - regular and frugal life with the same aversion which an old - gipsy or a Mohawk hunter feels for a stationary abode, and for - the restraints and securities of civilised communities. They 5 - were as untameable, as much wedded to their desolate freedom, - as the wild ass. They could no more be broken in to - the offices of social man than the unicorn could be trained to - serve and abide by the crib. It was well if they did not, like - beasts of a still fiercer race, tear the hands which ministered 10 - to their necessities. To assist them was impossible; and the - most benevolent of mankind at length became weary of giving - relief which was dissipated with the wildest profusion as soon - as it had been received. If a sum was bestowed on the - wretched adventurer, such as, properly husbanded, might 15 - have supplied him for six months, it was instantly spent in - strange freaks of sensuality, and before forty-eight hours had - elapsed, the poet was again pestering all his acquaintance for - twopence to get a plate of shin of beef at a subterraneous - cook-shop. If his friends gave him an asylum in their houses, 20 - those houses were forthwith turned into bagnios and taverns. - All order was destroyed; all business was suspended. The - most good-natured host began to repent of his eagerness to - serve a man of genius in distress when he heard his guest - roaring for fresh punch at five o'clock in the morning. 25 - - 13. A few eminent writers were more fortunate. Pope had - been raised above poverty by the active patronage which, in - his youth, both the great political parties had extended to his - Homer. Young had received the only pension ever bestowed, - to the best of our recollection, by Sir Robert Walpole, as the 30 - reward of mere literary merit. One or two of the many poets - who attached themselves to the opposition, Thomson in particular - and Mallet, obtained, after much severe suffering, the - means of subsistence from their political friends. Richardson, - like a man of sense, kept his shop; and his shop kept him, - which his novels, admirable as they are, would scarcely have - done. But nothing could be more deplorable than the state - even of the ablest men, who at that time depended for subsistence - on their writings. Johnson, Collins, Fielding, and 5 - Thomson, were certainly four of the most distinguished persons - that England produced during the eighteenth century. - It is well known that they were all four arrested for debt. - - 14. Into calamities and difficulties such as these Johnson - plunged in his twenty-eighth year. From that time till he was 10 - three or four and fifty, we have little information respecting - him; little, we mean, compared with the full and accurate - information which we possess respecting his proceedings and - habits towards the close of his life. He emerged at length - from cock-lofts and sixpenny ordinaries into the society of the 15 - polished and the opulent. His fame was established. A pension - sufficient for his wants had been conferred on him: and - he came forth to astonish a generation with which he had - almost as little in common as with Frenchmen or Spaniards. - - 15. In his early years he had occasionally seen the great; 20 - but he had seen them as a beggar. He now came among - them as a companion. The demand for amusement and - instruction had, during the course of twenty years, been gradually - increasing. The price of literary labour had risen; and - those rising men of letters with whom Johnson was henceforth 25 - to associate were for the most part persons widely different - from those who had walked about with him all night in the - streets for want of a lodging. Burke, Robertson, the Wartons, - Gray, Mason, Gibbon, Adam Smith, Beattie, Sir William - Jones, Goldsmith, and Churchill, were the most distinguished 30 - writers of what may be called the second generation of the - Johnsonian age. Of these men Churchill was the only one - in whom we can trace the stronger lineaments of that character - which, when Johnson first came up to London, was common - among authors. Of the rest, scarcely any had felt the pressure - of severe poverty. Almost all had been early admitted - into the most respectable society on an equal footing. They - were men of quite a different species from the dependents of - Curll and Osborne. 5 - - 16. Johnson came among them the solitary specimen of - a past age, the last survivor of the genuine race of Grub - Street hacks; the last of that generation of authors whose - abject misery and whose dissolute manners had furnished - inexhaustible matter to the satirical genius of Pope. From 10 - nature he had received an uncouth figure, a diseased constitution, - and an irritable temper. The manner in which the - earlier years of his manhood had been passed had given to - his demeanour, and even to his moral character, some peculiarities - appalling to the civilised beings who were the companions 15 - of his old age. The perverse irregularity of his hours, - the slovenliness of his person, his fits of strenuous exertion, - interrupted by long intervals of sluggishness, his strange abstinence, - and his equally strange voracity, his active benevolence, - contrasted with the constant rudeness and the occasional 20 - ferocity of his manners in society, made him, in the opinion - of those with whom he lived during the last twenty years of - his life, a complete original. An original he was, undoubtedly, - in some respects. But if we possessed full information - concerning those who shared his early hardships, we should 25 - probably find that what we call his singularities of manner - were, for the most part, failings which he had in common - with the class to which he belonged. He ate at Streatham - Park as he had been used to eat behind the screen at - St. John's Gate, when he was ashamed to show his ragged 30 - clothes. He ate as it was natural that a man should eat, who, - during a great part of his life, had passed the morning in - doubt whether he should have food for the afternoon. The - habits of his early life had accustomed him to bear privation - with fortitude, but not to taste pleasure with moderation. - He could fast; but, when he did not fast, he tore his dinner - like a famished wolf, with the veins swelling on his forehead, - and the perspiration running down his cheeks. He - scarcely ever took wine. But when he drank it, he drank it 5 - greedily and in large tumblers. These were, in fact, mitigated - symptoms of that same moral disease which raged with such - deadly malignity in his friends Savage and Boyse. The - roughness and violence which he showed in society were to - be expected from a man whose temper, not naturally gentle, 10 - had been long tried by the bitterest calamities, by the want - of meat, of fire, and of clothes, by the importunity of creditors, - by the insolence of booksellers, by the derision of fools, - by the insincerity of patrons, by that bread which is the - bitterest of all food, by those stairs which are the most toilsome 15 - of all paths, by that deferred hope which makes the - heart sick. Through all these things the ill-dressed, coarse, - ungainly pedant had struggled manfully up to eminence and - command. It was natural that, in the exercise of his power, - he should be "eo immitior, quia toleraverat," that, though his 20 - heart was undoubtedly generous and humane, his demeanour - in society should be harsh and despotic. For severe distress - he had sympathy, and not only sympathy, but munificent - relief. But for the suffering which a harsh world inflicts - upon a delicate mind he had no pity; for it was a kind of 25 - suffering which he could scarcely conceive. He would carry - home on his shoulders a sick and starving girl from the - streets. He turned his house into a place of refuge for a - crowd of wretched old creatures who could find no other - asylum; nor could all their peevishness and ingratitude weary 30 - out his benevolence. But the pangs of wounded vanity - seemed to him ridiculous; and he scarcely felt sufficient - compassion even for the pangs of wounded affection. He - had seen and felt so much of sharp misery, that he was not - affected by paltry vexations; and he seemed to think that - every body ought to be as much hardened to those vexations - as himself. He was angry with Boswell for complaining of - a headache, with Mrs. Thrale for grumbling about the dust - on the road, or the smell of the kitchen. These were, in 5 - his phrase, "foppish lamentations," which people ought to - be ashamed to utter in a world so full of sin and sorrow. - Goldsmith crying because the Good-natured Man had failed, - inspired him with no pity. Though his own health was not - good, he detested and despised valetudinarians. Pecuniary 10 - losses, unless they reduced the loser absolutely to beggary, - moved him very little. People whose hearts had been softened - by prosperity might weep, he said, for such events; but - all that could be expected of a plain man was not to laugh. - He was not much moved even by the spectacle of Lady 15 - Tavistock dying of a broken heart for the loss of her lord. - Such grief he considered as a luxury reserved for the idle and - the wealthy. A washerwoman, left a widow with nine small - children, would not have sobbed herself to death. - - 17. A person who troubled himself so little about small 20 - or sentimental grievances was not likely to be very attentive - to the feelings of others in the ordinary intercourse of society. - He could not understand how a sarcasm or a reprimand - could make any man really unhappy. "My dear doctor," - said he to Goldsmith, "what harm does it do to a man to call 25 - him Holofernes?" "Pooh, ma'am," he exclaimed to Mrs. - Carter, "who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably?" - Politeness has been well defined as benevolence in small - things. Johnson was impolite, not because he wanted benevolence, - but because small things appeared smaller to him than 30 - to people who had never known what it was to live for fourpence - halfpenny a day. - - 18. The characteristic peculiarity of his intellect was the - union of great powers with low prejudices. If we judged of - him by the best parts of his mind, we should place him almost - as high as he was placed by the idolatry of Boswell; if by - the worst parts of his mind, we should place him even below - Boswell himself. Where he was not under the influence of - some strange scruple, or some domineering passion, which 5 - prevented him from boldly and fairly investigating a subject, - he was a wary and acute reasoner, a little too much inclined - to scepticism, and a little too fond of paradox. No man was - less likely to be imposed upon by fallacies in argument or by - exaggerated statements of fact. But if, while he was beating 10 - down sophisms and exposing false testimony, some childish - prejudices, such as would excite laughter in a well-managed - nursery, came across him, he was smitten as if by enchantment. - His mind dwindled away under the spell from gigantic - elevation to dwarfish littleness. Those who had lately been 15 - admiring its amplitude and its force were now as much astonished - at its strange narrowness and feebleness as the fisherman - in the Arabian tale, when he saw the Genie, whose stature - had overshadowed the whole sea-coast, and whose might - seemed equal to a contest with armies, contract himself to 20 - the dimensions of his small prison, and lie there the helpless - slave of the charm of Solomon. - - 19. Johnson was in the habit of sifting with extreme severity - the evidence for all stories which were merely odd. But when - they were not only odd but miraculous, his severity relaxed. 25 - He began to be credulous precisely at the point where the - most credulous people begin to be sceptical. It is curious to - observe, both in his writings and in his conversation, the contrast - between the disdainful manner in which he rejects unauthenticated - anecdotes, even when they are consistent with the 30 - general laws of nature, and the respectful manner in which he - mentions the wildest stories relating to the invisible world. - A man who told him of a waterspout or a meteoric stone - generally had the lie direct given him for his pains. A man - who told him of a prediction or a dream wonderfully accomplished - was sure of a courteous hearing. "Johnson," observed - Hogarth, "like king David, says in his haste that all men are - liars." "His incredulity," says Mrs. Thrale, "amounted almost - to disease." She tells us how he browbeat a gentleman, who 5 - gave him an account of a hurricane in the West Indies, and a - poor quaker who related some strange circumstance about the - red-hot balls fired at the siege of Gibraltar. "It is not so. - It cannot be true. Don't tell that story again. You cannot - think how poor a figure you make in telling it." He once said, 10 - half jestingly we suppose, that for six months he refused to - credit the fact of the earthquake at Lisbon, and that he still - believed the extent of the calamity to be greatly exaggerated. - Yet he related with a grave face how old Mr. Cave of St. John's - Gate saw a ghost, and how this ghost was something of a shadowy 15 - being. He went himself on a ghost hunt to Cock Lane, and - was angry with John Wesley for not following up another scent - of the same kind with proper spirit and perseverance. He rejects - the Celtic genealogies and poems without the least hesitation; - yet he declares himself willing to believe the stories of 20 - the second sight. If he had examined the claims of the Highland - seers with half the severity with which he sifted the evidence - for the genuineness of Fingal, he would, we suspect, have - come away from Scotland with a mind fully made up. In his - Lives of the Poets, we find that he is unwilling to give credit 25 - to the accounts of Lord Roscommon's early proficiency in his - studies; but he tells with great solemnity an absurd romance - about some intelligence preternaturally impressed on the mind - of that nobleman. He avows himself to be in great doubt - about the truth of the story, and ends by warning his readers 30 - not wholly to slight such impressions. - - 20. Many of his sentiments on religious subjects are worthy - of a liberal and enlarged mind. He could discern clearly - enough the folly and meanness of all bigotry except his own. - When he spoke of the scruples of the Puritans, he spoke like - a person who had really obtained an insight into the divine - philosophy of the New Testament, and who considered Christianity - as a noble scheme of government, tending to promote - the happiness and to elevate the moral nature of man. The 5 - horror which the sectaries felt for cards, Christmas ale, - plum-porridge, mince-pies, and dancing-bears, excited his contempt. - To the arguments urged by some very worthy people against - showy dress he replied with admirable sense and spirit, "Let - us not be found, when our Master calls us, stripping the lace 10 - off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls - and tongues. Alas! sir, the man who cannot get to heaven in - a green coat will not find his way thither the sooner in a grey - one." Yet he was himself under the tyranny of scruples as - unreasonable as those of Hudibras or Ralpho, and carried his 15 - zeal for ceremonies and for ecclesiastical dignities to lengths - altogether inconsistent with reason or with Christian charity. - He has gravely noted down in his diary that he once committed - the sin of drinking coffee on Good Friday. In Scotland, he - thought it his duty to pass several months without joining in 20 - public worship, solely because the ministers of the kirk had not - been ordained by bishops. His mode of estimating the piety - of his neighbours was somewhat singular. "Campbell," said - he, "is a good man, a pious man. I am afraid he has not - been in the inside of a church for many years; but he never 25 - passes a church without pulling off his hat: this shows he has - good principles." Spain and Sicily must surely contain many - pious robbers and well-principled assassins. Johnson could - easily see that a Roundhead who named all his children after - Solomon's singers, and talked in the House of Commons about 30 - seeking the Lord, might be an unprincipled villain whose religious - mummeries only aggravated his guilt. But a man who - took off his hat when he passed a church episcopally consecrated - must be a good man, a pious man, a man of good principles. - Johnson could easily see that those persons who looked on - a dance or a laced waistcoat as sinful, deemed most ignobly - of the attributes of God and of the ends of revelation. But - with what a storm of invective he would have overwhelmed - any man who had blamed him for celebrating the redemption 5 - of mankind with sugarless tea and butterless buns. - - 21. Nobody spoke more contemptuously of the cant of - patriotism. Nobody saw more clearly the error of those who - regarded liberty, not as a means, but as an end, and who - proposed to themselves, as the object of their pursuit, the 10 - prosperity of the state as distinct from the prosperity of the - individuals who compose the state. His calm and settled opinion - seems to have been that forms of government have little or no - influence on the happiness of society. This opinion, erroneous - as it is, ought at least to have preserved him from all 15 - intemperance on political questions. It did not, however, preserve - him from the lowest, fiercest, and most absurd extravagances of - party-spirit, from rants which, in every thing but the diction, - resembled those of Squire Western. He was, as a politician, - half ice and half fire. On the side of his intellect he was a 20 - mere Pococurante, far too apathetic about public affairs, far too - sceptical as to the good or evil tendency of any form of polity. - His passions, on the contrary, were violent even to slaying - against all who leaned to Whiggish principles. The well-known - lines which he inserted in Goldsmith's Traveller express 25 - what seems to have been his deliberate judgment: - - "How small of all that human hearts endure - That part which kings or laws can cause or cure!" - - He had previously put expressions very similar into the mouth - of Rasselas. It is amusing to contrast these passages with the 30 - torrents of raving abuse which he poured forth against the - Long Parliament and the American Congress. In one of the - conversations reported by Boswell this inconsistency displays - itself in the most ludicrous manner. - - 22. "Sir Adam Ferguson," says Boswell, "suggested that - luxury corrupts a people, and destroys the spirit of liberty. - JOHNSON: 'Sir, that is all visionary. I would not give half - a guinea to live under one form of government rather than - another. It is of no moment to the happiness of an individual. 5 - Sir, the danger of the abuse of power is nothing to a private - man. What Frenchman is prevented passing his life as he - pleases?' SIR ADAM: 'But, sir, in the British constitution it - is surely of importance to keep up a spirit in the people, so as - to preserve a balance against the crown.' JOHNSON: 'Sir, I 10 - perceive you are a vile Whig. Why all this childish jealousy of - the power of the crown? The crown has not power enough.'" - - 23. One of the old philosophers, Lord Bacon tells us, used - to say that life and death were just the same to him. "Why, - then," said an objector, "do you not kill yourself?" The 15 - philosopher answered, "Because it is just the same." If - the difference between two forms of government be not - worth half a guinea, it is not easy to see how Whiggism can - be viler than Toryism, or how the crown can have too little - power. If the happiness of individuals is not affected by 20 - political abuses, zeal for liberty is doubtless ridiculous. But - zeal for monarchy must be equally so. No person would - have been more quick-sighted than Johnson to such a contradiction - as this in the logic of an antagonist. - - 24. The judgments which Johnson passed on books were, 25 - in his own time, regarded with superstitious veneration, and, in - our time, are generally treated with indiscriminate contempt. - They are the judgments of a strong but enslaved understanding. - The mind of the critic was hedged round by an uninterrupted - fence of prejudices and superstitions. Within his narrow limits, 30 - he displayed a vigour and an activity which ought to have - enabled him to clear the barrier that confined him. - - 25. How it chanced that a man who reasoned on his premises - so ably, should assume his premises so foolishly, is one of - the great mysteries of human nature. The same inconsistency - may be observed in the schoolmen of the middle ages. - Those writers show so much acuteness and force of mind in - arguing on their wretched data, that a modern reader is perpetually - at a loss to comprehend how such minds came by 5 - such data. Not a flaw in the superstructure of the theory - which they are rearing escapes their vigilance. Yet they are - blind to the obvious unsoundness of the foundation. It is - the same with some eminent lawyers. Their legal arguments - are intellectual prodigies, abounding with the happiest analogies 10 - and the most refined distinctions. The principles of - their arbitrary science being once admitted, the statute-book - and the reports being once assumed as the foundations of - reasoning, these men must be allowed to be perfect masters - of logic. But if a question arises as to the postulates on which 15 - their whole system rests, if they are called upon to vindicate the - fundamental maxims of that system which they have passed - their lives in studying, these very men often talk the language - of savages or of children. Those who have listened to a man - of this class in his own court, and who have witnessed the skill 20 - with which he analyses and digests a vast mass of evidence, or - reconciles a crowd of precedents which at first sight seem - contradictory, scarcely know him again when, a few hours later, - they hear him speaking on the other side of Westminster - Hall in his capacity of legislator. They can scarcely believe 25 - that the paltry quirks which are faintly heard through a storm - of coughing, and which do not impose on the plainest country - gentleman, can proceed from the same sharp and vigorous - intellect which had excited their admiration under the same - roof, and on the same day. 30 - - 26. Johnson decided literary questions like a lawyer, not - like a legislator. He never examined foundations where a - point was already ruled. His whole code of criticism rested - on pure assumption, for which he sometimes quoted a precedent - or an authority, but rarely troubled himself to give a reason - drawn from the nature of things. He took it for granted that - the kind of poetry which flourished in his own time, which he - had been accustomed to hear praised from his childhood, and - which he had himself written with success, was the best kind 5 - of poetry. In his biographical work he has repeatedly laid - it down as an undeniable proposition that during the latter - part of the seventeenth century, and the earlier part of the - eighteenth, English poetry had been in a constant progress - of improvement. Waller, Denham, Dryden, and Pope, had 10 - been, according to him, the great reformers. He judged of - all works of the imagination by the standard established among - his own contemporaries. Though he allowed Homer to have - been a greater man than Virgil, he seems to have thought the - Ęneid a greater poem than the Iliad. Indeed he well might 15 - have thought so; for he preferred Pope's Iliad to Homer's. - He pronounced that, after Hoole's translation of Tasso, Fairfax's - would hardly be reprinted. He could see no merit in - our fine old English ballads, and always spoke with the most - provoking contempt of Percy's fondness for them. Of the 20 - great original works of imagination which appeared during - his time, Richardson's novels alone excited his admiration. - He could see little or no merit in Tom Jones, in Gulliver's - Travels, or in Tristram Shandy. To Thomson's Castle of - Indolence, he vouchsafed only a line of cold commendation, 25 - of commendation much colder than what he has bestowed - on the Creation of that portentous bore, Sir Richard Blackmore. - Gray was, in his dialect, a barren rascal. Churchill - was a blockhead. The contempt which he felt for the trash - of Macpherson was indeed just; but it was, we suspect, 30 - just by chance. He despised the Fingal for the very reason - which led many men of genius to admire it. He despised it, - not because it was essentially commonplace, but because it - had a superficial air of originality. - - 27. He was undoubtedly an excellent judge of compositions - fashioned on his own principles. But when a deeper philosophy - was required, when he undertook to pronounce judgment - on the works of those great minds which "yield homage - only to eternal laws," his failure was ignominious. He criticised 5 - Pope's Epitaphs excellently. But his observations on - Shakespeare's plays and Milton's poems seem to us for the - most part as wretched as if they had been written by Rymer - himself, whom we take to have been the worst critic that - ever lived. 10 - - 28. Some of Johnson's whims on literary subjects can be - compared only to that strange nervous feeling which made him - uneasy if he had not touched every post between the Mitre - tavern and his own lodgings. His preference of Latin epitaphs - to English epitaphs is an instance. An English epitaph, he 15 - said, would disgrace Smollett. He declared that he would not - pollute the walls of Westminster Abbey with an English epitaph - on Goldsmith. What reason there can be for celebrating a - British writer in Latin, which there was not for covering the - Roman arches of triumph with Greek inscriptions, or for 20 - commemorating the deeds of the heroes of Thermopylę in - Egyptian hieroglyphics, we are utterly unable to imagine. - - 29. On men and manners, at least on the men and manners - of a particular place and a particular age, Johnson had - certainly looked with a most observant and discriminating eye. 25 - His remarks on the education of children, on marriage, on - the economy of families, on the rules of society, are always - striking, and generally sound. In his writings, indeed, the - knowledge of life which he possessed in an eminent degree is - very imperfectly exhibited. Like those unfortunate chiefs of 30 - the middle ages who were suffocated by their own chain-mail - and cloth of gold, his maxims perish under that load of words - which was designed for their defence and their ornament. - But it is clear from the remains of his conversation, that he - had more of that homely wisdom which nothing but experience - and observation can give than any writer since the time - of Swift. If he had been content to write as he talked, he - might have left books on the practical art of living superior - to the Directions to Servants. 5 - - 30. Yet even his remarks on society, like his remarks on - literature, indicate a mind at least as remarkable for narrowness - as for strength. He was no master of the great science - of human nature. He had studied, not the genus man, but - the species Londoner. Nobody was ever so thoroughly conversant 10 - with all the forms of life and all the shades of moral - and intellectual character which were to be seen from Islington - to the Thames, and from Hyde-Park corner to Mile-end green. - But his philosophy stopped at the first turnpike-gate. Of the - rural life of England he knew nothing; and he took it for 15 - granted that every body who lived in the country was either - stupid or miserable. "Country gentlemen," said he, "must - be unhappy; for they have not enough to keep their lives in - motion"; as if all those peculiar habits and associations which - made Fleet Street and Charing Cross the finest views in the 20 - world to himself had been essential parts of human nature. - Of remote countries and past times he talked with wild and - ignorant presumption. "The Athenians of the age of Demosthenes," - he said to Mrs. Thrale, "were a people of brutes, a - barbarous people." In conversation with Sir Adam Ferguson 25 - he used similar language. "The boasted Athenians," he said, - "were barbarians. The mass of every people must be barbarous - where there is no printing." The fact was this: he saw that - a Londoner who could not read was a very stupid and brutal - fellow: he saw that great refinement of taste and activity of 30 - intellect were rarely found in a Londoner who had not read - much; and, because it was by means of books that people - acquired almost all their knowledge in the society with which - he was acquainted, he concluded, in defiance of the strongest - and clearest evidence, that the human mind can be cultivated - by means of books alone. An Athenian citizen might possess - very few volumes; and the largest library to which he had - access might be much less valuable than Johnson's bookcase - in Bolt Court. But the Athenian might pass every morning 5 - in conversation with Socrates, and might hear Pericles speak - four or five times every month. He saw the plays of Sophocles - and Aristophanes: he walked amidst the friezes of Phidias - and the paintings of Zeuxis: he knew by heart the choruses - of Ęschylus: he heard the rhapsodist at the corner of the 10 - street reciting the Shield of Achilles or the Death of Argus: - he was a legislator, conversant with high questions of alliance, - revenue, and war: he was a soldier, trained under a liberal - and generous discipline: he was a judge, compelled every day - to weigh the effect of opposite arguments. These things were 15 - in themselves an education, an education eminently fitted, not, - indeed, to form exact or profound thinkers, but to give quickness - to the perceptions, delicacy to the taste, fluency to the - expression, and politeness to the manners. All this was overlooked. - An Athenian who did not improve his mind by reading 20 - was, in Johnson's opinion, much such a person as a - Cockney who made his mark, much such a person as black - Frank before he went to school, and far inferior to a parish - clerk or a printer's devil. - - 31. Johnson's friends have allowed that he carried to a 25 - ridiculous extreme his unjust contempt for foreigners. He - pronounced the French to be a very silly people, much behind - us, stupid, ignorant creatures. And this judgment he formed - after having been at Paris about a month, during which he - would not talk French, for fear of giving the natives an 30 - advantage over him in conversation. He pronounced them, - also, to be an indelicate people, because a French footman - touched the sugar with his fingers. That ingenious and - amusing traveller, M. Simond, has defended his countrymen - very successfully against Johnson's accusation, and has pointed - out some English practices which, to an impartial spectator, - would seem at least as inconsistent with physical cleanliness - and social decorum as those which Johnson so bitterly reprehended. - To the sage, as Boswell loves to call him, it never 5 - occurred to doubt that there must be something eternally - and immutably good in the usages to which he had been - accustomed. In fact, Johnson's remarks on society beyond - the bills of mortality, are generally of much the same kind - with those of honest Tom Dawson, the English footman in 10 - Dr. Moore's Zeluco. "Suppose the king of France has no - sons, but only a daughter, then, when the king dies, this here - daughter, according to that there law, cannot be made queen, - but the next near relative, provided he is a man, is made king, - and not the last king's daughter, which, to be sure, is very 15 - unjust. The French foot-guards are dressed in blue, and all - the marching regiments in white, which has a very foolish - appearance for soldiers; and as for blue regimentals, it is - only fit for the blue horse or the artillery." - - 32. Johnson's visit to the Hebrides introduced him to a 20 - state of society completely new to him; and a salutary suspicion - of his own deficiencies seems on that occasion to have - crossed his mind for the first time. He confessed, in the - last paragraph of his Journey, that his thoughts on national - manners were the thoughts of one who had seen but little, of 25 - one who had passed his time almost wholly in cities. This - feeling, however, soon passed away. It is remarkable that to - the last he entertained a fixed contempt for all those modes - of life and those studies which tend to emancipate the mind - from the prejudices of a particular age or a particular nation. 30 - Of foreign travel and of history he spoke with the fierce and - boisterous contempt of ignorance. "What does a man learn - by travelling? Is Beauclerk the better for travelling? What - did Lord Charlemont learn in his travels, except that there - was a snake in one of the pyramids of Egypt?" History was, - in his opinion, to use the fine expression of Lord Plunkett, an - old almanack: historians could, as he conceived, claim no - higher dignity than that of almanack-makers; and his favourite - historians were those who, like Lord Hailes, aspired to no 5 - higher dignity. He always spoke with contempt of Robertson. - Hume he would not even read. He affronted one of - his friends for talking to him about Catiline's conspiracy, and - declared that he never desired to hear of the Punic war again - as long as he lived. 10 - - 33. Assuredly one fact which does not directly affect our - own interests, considered in itself, is no better worth knowing - than another fact. The fact that there is a snake in a pyramid, - or the fact that Hannibal crossed the Alps, are in themselves - as unprofitable to us as the fact that there is a green 15 - blind in a particular house in Threadneedle Street, or the - fact that a Mr. Smith comes into the city every morning on - the top of one of the Blackwall stages. But it is certain that - those who will not crack the shell of history will never get at - the kernel. Johnson, with hasty arrogance, pronounced the 20 - kernel worthless, because he saw no value in the shell. The - real use of travelling to distant countries and of studying the - annals of past times is to preserve men from the contraction - of mind which those can hardly escape whose whole communion - is with one generation and one neighbourhood, who 25 - arrive at conclusions by means of an induction not sufficiently - copious, and who therefore constantly confound exceptions - with rules, and accidents with essential properties. In - short, the real use of travelling and of studying history is to - keep men from being what Tom Dawson was in fiction, and 30 - Samuel Johnson in reality. - - 34. Johnson, as Mr. Burke most justly observed, appears - far greater in Boswell's books than in his own. His conversation - appears to have been quite equal to his writings in - matter, and far superior to them in manner. When he talked, - he clothed his wit and his sense in forcible and natural - expressions. As soon as he took his pen in his hand to write for - the public, his style became systematically vicious. All his - books are written in a learned language, in a language which 5 - nobody hears from his mother or his nurse, in a language in - which nobody ever quarrels, or drives bargains, or makes love, - in a language in which nobody ever thinks. It is clear that - Johnson himself did not think in the dialect in which he - wrote. The expressions which came first to his tongue were 10 - simple, energetic, and picturesque. When he wrote for publication - he did his sentences out of English into Johnsonese. - His letters from the Hebrides to Mrs. Thrale are the original - of that work of which the Journey to the Hebrides is the - translation; and it is amusing to compare the two versions. 15 - "When we were taken up stairs," says he in one of his letters, - "a dirty fellow bounced out of the bed on which one of us - was to lie." This incident is recorded in the Journey as - follows: "Out of one of the beds on which we were to repose - started up, at our entrance, a man black as a Cyclops from 20 - the forge." Sometimes Johnson translated aloud. "The - Rehearsal," he said, very unjustly, "has not wit enough to - keep it sweet"; then, after a pause, "it has not vitality - enough to preserve it from putrefaction." - - 35. Mannerism is pardonable, and is sometimes even agreeable, 25 - when the manner, though vicious, is natural. Few readers, - for example, would be willing to part with the mannerism of - Milton or of Burke. But a mannerism which does not sit - easy on the mannerist, which has been adopted on principle, - and which can be sustained only by constant effort, is always 30 - offensive. And such is the mannerism of Johnson. - - 36. The characteristic faults of his style are so familiar to - all our readers, and have been so often burlesqued, that it - is almost superfluous to point them out. It is well known - that he made less use than any other eminent writer of those - strong plain words, Anglo-Saxon or Norman-French, of which - the roots lie in the inmost depths of our language; and that - he felt a vicious partiality for terms which, long after our own - speech had been fixed, were borrowed from the Greek and 5 - Latin, and which therefore, even when lawfully naturalised, - must be considered as born aliens, not entitled to rank with - the king's English. His constant practice of padding out a - sentence with useless epithets, till it became as stiff as the - bust of an exquisite, his antithetical forms of expression, 10 - constantly employed even where there is no opposition in the - ideas expressed, his big words wasted on little things, his - harsh inversions, so widely different from those graceful and - easy inversions which give variety, spirit, and sweetness to - the expression of our great old writers, all these peculiarities 15 - have been imitated by his admirers and parodied by his - assailants, till the public has become sick of the subject. - - 37. Goldsmith said to him, very wittily and very justly, - "If you were to write a fable about little fishes, doctor, you - would make the little fishes talk like whales." No man surely 20 - ever had so little talent for personation as Johnson. Whether - he wrote in the character of a disappointed legacy-hunter or an - empty town fop, of a crazy virtuoso or a flippant coquette, he - wrote in the same pompous and unbending style. His speech, - like Sir Piercy Shafton's Euphuistic eloquence, bewrayed him 25 - under every disguise. Euphelia and Rhodoclea talk as finely - as Imlac the poet, or Seged, Emperor of Ethiopia. The gay - Cornelia describes her reception at the country-house of her - relations in such terms as these: "I was surprised, after the - civilities of my first reception, to find, instead of the leisure 30 - and tranquillity which a rural life always promises, and, if - well conducted, might always afford, a confused wildness of - care, and a tumultuous hurry of diligence, by which every - face was clouded, and every motion agitated." The gentle - Tranquilla informs us, that she "had not passed the earlier - part of life without the flattery of courtship, and the joys of - triumph; but had danced the round of gaiety amidst the - murmurs of envy and the gratulations of applause, had been - attended from pleasure to pleasure by the great, the sprightly, 5 - and the vain, and had seen her regard solicited by the - obsequiousness of gallantry, the gaiety of wit, and the timidity of - love." Surely Sir John Falstaff himself did not wear his petticoats - with a worse grace. The reader may well cry out, - with honest Sir Hugh Evans, "I like not when a 'oman has 10 - a great peard: I spy a great peard under her muffler."[19] - - 38. We had something more to say. But our article is - already too long; and we must close it. We would fain - part in good humour from the hero, from the biographer, - and even from the editor, who, ill as he has performed his 15 - task, has at least this claim to our gratitude, that he has - induced us to read Boswell's book again. As we close it, the - club-room is before us, and the table on which stands the - omelet for Nugent, and the lemons for Johnson. There are - assembled those heads which live for ever on the canvass of 20 - Reynolds. There are the spectacles of Burke and the tall - thin form of Langton, the courtly sneer of Beauclerk, and the - beaming smile of Garrick, Gibbon tapping his snuff-box, and - Sir Joshua with his trumpet in his ear. In the foreground is - that strange figure which is as familiar to us as the figures of 25 - those among whom we have been brought up, the gigantic - body, the huge massy face, seamed with the scars of disease, - the brown coat, the black worsted stockings, the grey wig - with the scorched foretop, the dirty hands, the nails bitten - and pared to the quick. We see the eyes and mouth moving 30 - with convulsive twitches; we see the heavy form rolling; we - hear it puffing; and then comes the "Why, sir!" and the - "What then, sir?" and the "No, sir!" and the "You don't - see your way through the question, sir!" - - 39. What a singular destiny has been that of this remarkable - man! To be regarded in his own age as a classic, and 5 - in ours as a companion. To receive from his contemporaries - that full homage which men of genius have in general received - only from posterity! To be more intimately known to posterity - than other men are known to their contemporaries! - That kind of fame which is commonly the most transient is, 10 - in his case, the most durable. The reputation of those writings, - which he probably expected to be immortal, is every day - fading; while those peculiarities of manner and that careless - table-talk, the memory of which, he probably thought, would - die with him, are likely to be remembered as long as the 15 - English language is spoken in any quarter of the globe. - - - - -NOTES - - -=PAGE 1.= LINE 4. =Lichfield.= Observe how near Lichfield comes to -being in the exact center of England. - -=1= 4-5. =the midland counties.= As you run your eye over the map, what -counties should you naturally include under this head? In what county -is Lichfield? - -=1= 9. =oracle.= "Johnson, the Lichfield librarian, is now here; he -propagates learning all over this diocese, and advanceth knowledge to -its just height; all the clergy here are his pupils, and suck all they -have from him."--From a letter written by Rev. George Plaxton, quoted -by Boswell. - -=1= 10-11. =a strong religious and political sympathy.= Macaulay's use -of the article would lead us to think that the two kinds of sympathy -were very closely connected. Michael Johnson was a member of the -Established Church of England, and at heart a believer in the "divine -right" kings. The student who is not familiar with the history of -this period will do well to look up _Jacobite_ in Brewer's _Historic -Note-book_ and then to read in some brief history an account of the -_sovereigns in possession_ who followed James II,--William and Mary -(1689-1702) and Anne (1702-1714). Boswell says, "He no doubt had an -early attachment to the House of Stuart; but his zeal had cooled as his -reason strengthened." - -=1= 16. =In the child.= Pause to take the glimpse ahead which this -sentence gives. The construction helps one to remember the three kinds -of peculiarities and the order in which they are mentioned. - -=2= 26. =Augustan delicacy of taste.= You may read in Harper's -_Dictionary of Classical Literature and Antiquities_, in the article -on Augustus Cęsar, how "the court of Augustus thus became a school of -culture, where men of genius acquired that delicacy of taste, elevation -of sentiment, and purity of expression which characterize the writers -of the age." - -=2= 32. =Petrarch.= Does Macaulay imply that Petrarch is one of "the -great restorers of learning"? See _Renaissance_ in _The Century -Dictionary_ and Harper's _Dictionary of Classical Literature and -Antiquities_. Note that Petrarch "may be said to have rediscovered -Greek, which for some six centuries had been lost to the western -world." Keep in mind, too, that his friend and disciple, Boccaccio, -translated Homer into Latin. - -=3= 11. =Pembroke College.= The University of Oxford consists of -twenty-one colleges which together form a corporate body. The colleges -are "endowed by their founders and others with estates and benefices; -out of the revenue arising from the estates, as well as other -resources, the Heads and Senior and Junior Members _on the foundation_ -receive an income, and the expenses of the colleges are defrayed. -Members _not on the foundation_, called 'independent members,' reside -entirely at their own expense." Among the members _on the foundation_ -are the Heads, Fellows, and Scholars. - -=3= 17-18. =Macrobius.= A Roman grammarian who probably lived at the -beginning of the fifth century. - -=3= 20. =about three years.= Apparently Johnson remained at Oxford -only fourteen months. See Dr. Hill's _Dr. Johnson, His Friends and His -Critics_. - -=4= 1-2. "It was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. I was -miserably poor, and I thought to fight my way by my literature and my -wit; so I disregarded all power and all authority."--Johnson, quoted -by Boswell. Although aware of what he considered the defects of his -college, Johnson loved Pembroke as long as he lived. He delighted in -boasting of its eminent graduates and would have left to it his house -at Lichfield had not wiser friends induced him to bequeath it to some -poor relatives. - -=4= 15-16. =his father died.= "I now therefore see that I must make my -own fortune. Meanwhile let me take care that the powers of my mind be -not debilitated by poverty, and that indigence do not force me into any -criminal act."--Johnson, quoted by Boswell. - -=5= 32. =Walmesley.= "I am not able to name a man of equal knowledge. -His acquaintance with books was great, and what he did not immediately -know, he could, at least, tell where to find."--Johnson, quoted by -Boswell. - -=6= 13. =Politian.= Another of "the great restorers of learning" (see -=2= 31). His beginning of a translation of the _Iliad_ into Latin -attracted the attention of Lorenzo de' Medici, under whose patronage he -became one of the first scholars of Italy. - -=6= 17. =fell in love.= Boswell says that Johnson's early attachments -to the fair sex were "very transient," and considers it but natural -that when the passion of love once seized him it should be exceedingly -strong, concentrated as it was in one object. - -=6= 22. =Queensberrys and Lepels.= Families of high rank in England. - -=7= 3-4. =half ludicrous.= Carlyle says it is no matter for ridicule -that the man "whose look all men both laughed at and shuddered at, -should find any brave female heart, to acknowledge, at first sight -and hearing of him, 'This is the most sensible man I ever met with'; -and then, with generous courage, to take him to itself, and say Be -thou mine!... Johnson's deathless affection for his Tetty was always -venerable and noble." - -=7= 6-7. At Edial. Although this enterprise did not prosper, the man, -as Carlyle says, "was to become a Teacher of grown gentlemen, in the -most surprising way; a man of Letters, and Ruler of the British Nation -for some time,--not of their bodies merely, but of their minds; not -over them, but _in_ them." - -=7= 13. =David Garrick.= The mere fact that this celebrated actor and -successful manager brought out twenty-four of Shakspere's plays is -reason enough why we should look him up. A slight knowledge of his -career enables one to enjoy all the more the frequent references to -him in Boswell's _Life of Johnson_. After reading the sketch in the -_Encyclopędia Britannica_ it would be a good plan to read Boswell's -references consecutively by means of the index. - -=8= 9. =Fielding.= For an enjoyable short sketch of the first great -English novelist, see Thackeray's _English Humourists_. - -=8= 10. =The Beggar's Opera=, by John Gay, appeared in 1728. - -=8= 19. =knot.= See _The Century Dictionary_. - -=8= 34. =Drury Lane.= A street in the heart of the city, near the -Strand,--one of the chief thoroughfares. It was beginning to lose its -old-time respectability. - -=9= 9. =the sight of food.= Once when Boswell was giving a dinner and -one of the company was late, Boswell proposed to order dinner to be -served, adding, "'Ought six people to be kept waiting for one?' 'Why, -yes,' answered Johnson, with a delicate humanity, 'if the one will -suffer more by your sitting down than the six will do by waiting.'" Is -it probable that Macaulay exaggerates? - -=9= 27. =Harleian Library.= The library collected by Robert Harley, -First Earl of Oxford. Osborne afterwards bought it and Johnson did some -of the cataloguing for him. As to Osborne's punishment, Boswell says: -"The simple truth I had from Johnson himself. 'Sir, he was impertinent -to me, and I beat him. But it was not in his shop: it was in my own -chamber.'" - -=10= 6. =Blefuscu, Mildendo.= If Blefuscu and Mildendo look unfamiliar, -go to Lilliput for them. (See _Gulliver's Travels_.) - -=10= 9. "Johnson told me, that as soon as he found that the speeches -were thought genuine, he determined that he would write no more -of them; for he 'would not be accessory to the propagation of -falsehood.'"--Boswell. - -=10= 15. Cf. _The Traveller_. Do you suppose that either Johnson or -Goldsmith really believed that one form of government is as good as -another? - -=10= 17. =Montagues.= See Shakspere's _Romeo and Juliet_. - -_10_ 18. =Greens.= In Roman chariot races there was the bitterest -rivalry between the different colors of the factions, and the betting -often led to scenes of riot and bloodshed. Once in Justinian's reign, -in the great circus at Constantinople, the tumult was not suppressed -till about thirty thousand of the rioters had been killed. See Gibbon, -_Decline and Fall_, Chapter XL. - -=10= 22. =Sacheverell.= What do you gather from the context about this -preacher? Was he high church? Did he preach resistance to the king? - -=10= 31. =Tom Tempest.= See Johnson's _Idler_, No. 10. - -=10= 32. =Laud.= Read in Gardiner's _Student's History of England_ the -account of this archbishop who tried to enforce uniformity of worship. - -=11= 2-4. =Hampden, Falkland, Clarendon.= In the case of these three -statesmen, as well as in the case of Laud, the context shows which of -them were supporters of Charles I and which resisted him. Does Macaulay -imply that Johnson would have been excusable if he had sympathized with -Hampden's refusal to pay "ship money"? - -=11= 5. =Roundheads.= If you do not know why they were so called, see -_The Century Dictionary_. - -=11= 20-21. =Great Rebellion.= If in doubt as to which rebellion -Macaulay refers, see _The Century Dictionary_ or Brewer's _Dictionary -of Phrase and Fable_. - -=12= 2, 8, 10. =Juvenal.= Dryden has translated five of the poems of -this great Roman satirist. It is worth while to compare Johnson's -_London_, a free imitation of the Third Satire, with Dryden's version. -Johnson's poem may be found in Hales's _Longer English Poems_. - -=12= 19. Boswell, too, asks us to remember Pope's candor and liberal -conduct on this occasion. Let us not forget it. - -=13= 8. =Psalmanazar.= Pretending to be a Japanese, this Frenchman -wrote what he called a _History of Formosa_. Although fabulous, it -deceived the learned world. - -=13= 14-15. =blue ribands.= Worn by members of the Order of the Garter. - -=13= 16. =Newgate.= The notorious London prison. - -=13= 26. =Piazza= here has its first meaning,--"an open square in a -town surrounded by buildings or colonnades, a plaza." This space was -once the "convent" garden of the monks of Westminster. For a brief -sketch of it down to the time its "coffee houses and taverns became the -fashionable lounging-places for the authors, wits, and noted men of the -kingdom," see _The Century Dictionary_. - -=14= 11-12. =Grub Street.= "Originally the name of a street in -Moorfields in London, much inhabited by writers of small histories, -dictionaries, and temporary poems; whence any mean production is called -_grubstreet_. - - 'I'd sooner ballads write, and _grubstreet_ lays.' Gay." - - --Johnson's _Dictionary_, edition of 1773. - -=14= 23. =Warburton.= Bishop Warburton thus praised Johnson in the -Preface to his own edition of _Shakspere_, and Johnson showed his -appreciation by saying to Boswell, "He praised me at a time when -praise was of value to me." On another occasion, when asked whether he -considered Warburton a superior critic to Theobald, he replied, "He'd -make two-and-fifty Theobalds, cut into slices!" Johnson's sketch of -him, in the _Life of Pope_, Boswell calls "the tribute due to him when -he was no longer in 'high place,' but numbered with the dead." - -=14= 28-31. He employed six amanuenses, not a large number of -assistants for a task of such magnitude. Nor was the sum of fifteen -hundred guineas a generous one from which to pay these assistants. - -=14= 33. =Chesterfield.= Every young man should read an abridged -edition of Chesterfield's _Letters to his Son_; for example, the volume -in the Knickerbocker Nugget Series. It contains much that is worth -remembering, and the style is entertaining. - -=15= 17. It is hard to realize what a stupendous task Johnson undertook -when he began his Dictionary. Other dictionaries, notably Bailey's, -were in existence, but they were mere beginnings of what he had in -mind. As lists of words, with explanations of the meanings, they were -useful, but none of them could reasonably be considered a standard. A -standard Johnson's certainly was. Although no etymologist, in general -he not only gave full and clear definitions, but he chose remarkably -happy illustrations of the meanings of words. By taking care, also, to -select passages which were interesting and profitable reading as well -as elegant English, he succeeded in making probably the most readable -dictionary that has ever appeared. - -=15= 23. For the _Vanity of Human Wishes_, see Hales's _Longer English -Poems_ or Syle's _From Milton to Tennyson_. As in the case of _London_, -the student will wish to compare Dryden's translation. - -=16= 8-9. And this was eleven years after the _London_ had appeared; as -Boswell says, his fame was already established. - -=16= 13. =Goodman's Fields.= Garrick made this theater successful. - -=16= 15. =Drury Lane Theatre.= Near Drury Lane. (See note to =8= 34.) -Other prominent actors in this famous old theatre were Kean, the -Kembles, and Mrs. Siddons. - -=17= 13. See page 7. The story on which _Irene_ is based is as -follows:-- - - Mahomet the Great, first emperor of the Turks, in the year 1453 - laid siege to the city of Constantinople, then possessed by the - Greeks, and, after an obstinate resistance, took and sacked it. - Among the many young women whom the commanders thought fit to - lay hands on and present to him was one named Irene, a Greek, - of incomparable beauty and such rare perfection of body and - mind, that the emperor, becoming enamored of her, neglected - the care of his government and empire for two whole years, - and thereby so exasperated the Janizaries, that they mutinied - and threatened to dethrone him. To prevent this mischief, - Mustapha Bassa, a person of great credit with him, undertook - to represent to him the great danger to which he lay exposed - by the indulgence of his passion: he called to his remembrance - the character, actions, and achievements of his predecessors, - and the state of his government; and, in short, so roused - him from his lethargy, that he took a horrible resolution - to silence the clamors of his people by the sacrifice of - this admirable creature. Accordingly, he commanded her to be - dressed and adorned in the richest manner that she and her - attendants could devise, and against a certain hour issued - orders for the nobility and leaders of his army to attend him - in the great hall of his palace. When they were all assembled, - himself appeared with great pomp and magnificence, leading his - captive by the hand, unconscious of guilt and ignorant of his - design. With a furious and menacing look, he gave the beholders - to understand that he meant to remove the cause of their - discontent; but bade them first view that lady, whom he held - with his left hand, and say whether any of them, possessed of a - jewel so rare and precious, would for any cause forego her; to - which they answered that he had great reason for his affection - toward her. To this the emperor replied that he would convince - them that he was yet master of himself. And having so said, - presently, with one of his hands catching the fair Greek by - the hair of the head, and drawing his falchion with the other, - he, at one blow, struck off her head, to the great terror of - them all; and having so done, he said unto them, "Now by this - judge whether your emperor is able to bridle his affections or - not."--Hawkins's _Life of Johnson_. - -=17= 20-21. =Tatler, Spectator.= It is to be hoped that the reader -needs no introduction to these papers or to the account of them in -Macaulay's essay on Addison. - -=17= 30. =Rambler.= A suitable title for a series of moral discourses? -At the time of the undertaking he composed a prayer to the effect -that he might in this way promote the glory of Almighty God and the -salvation both of himself and others.--_Prayers and Meditations_, p. 9, -quoted by Boswell. - -=17= 31-32. Boswell considers it a strong confirmation of the truth -of Johnson's remark that "a man may write at any time if he will set -himself doggedly to it," that "notwithstanding his constitutional -indolence, his depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his -Dictionary, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a week from -the stores of his mind during all that time." - -=17= 34. =Richardson.= Samuel Richardson. When he was a boy, the girls -employed him to write love letters for them; and his novels, written in -after life, also took the form of letters. He wrote _Pamela, or Virtue -Rewarded_; _Clarissa Harlowe, or the History of a Young Lady_; and _The -History of Sir Charles Grandison_ (about 1750). Johnson called him "an -author who has enlarged the knowledge of human nature and taught the -passions to move at the command of virtue." - -=18= 2. =Young.= Johnson held a high opinion of Edward Young's -most famous work, _Night Thoughts_, and Boswell writes, "No book -whatever can be recommended to young persons, with better hopes of -seasoning their minds with _vital religion_, than Young's _Night -Thoughts_."--=Hartley.= David Hartley, prominent as a psychologist, and -as a physician benevolent and studious. For intimate friends he chose -such men as Warburton and Young. - -=18= 3. =Dodington.= A member of Parliament who patronized men of -letters and was complimented by Young and Fielding. - -=18= 7. =Frederic.= When Frederick, Prince of Wales, became the -center of the opposition to Walpole, in 1737, among the leaders of -his political friends, called "the Leicester House Party,"--at that -time Leicester House was the residence of the Prince of Wales,--were -Chesterfield, William Pitt, and Bubb Dodington. - -=18= 25. In regard to the use of antiquated and hard words, for which -Johnson was censured, he says in _Idler_ No. 90, "He that thinks with -more extent than another, will want words of larger meaning." - -=18= 30-32. =brilliancy ... eloquence ... humour.= Johnson wrote many -of these discourses so hastily, says Boswell, that he did not even read -them over before they were printed. Boswell continues: "Sir Joshua -Reynolds once asked him by what means he had attained his extraordinary -accuracy and flow of language. He told him, that he had early laid it -down as a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in every -company: to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he -could put it in; and that by constant practice, and never suffering -any careless expressions to escape him, or attempting to deliver his -thoughts without arranging them in the clearest manner, it became -habitual to him." One man who knew Johnson intimately observed "that he -always talked as if he was talking upon oath." - -=18= 32-=19= 10. Cf. Johnson's comment: "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."--Boswell, 1750. - -=19= 1-2. =Sir Roger=, etc. These two sets of allusions offer a good -excuse for handling complete editions of the _Spectator_ and the -_Rambler_. - -=19= 21. =the Gunnings.= "The beautiful Misses Gunning," two -sisters, were born in Ireland. They went to London in 1751, were -continually followed by crowds, and were called "the handsomest women -alive."--=Lady Mary.= Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Let one of the -encyclopędias introduce you to this relative of Fielding who laughed -at Pope when he made love to her, and whose wit had full play in the -brilliant letters from Constantinople which added greatly to her -reputation as an independent thinker. - -=19= 23-24. =the Monthly Review.= This Whig periodical would not -appeal to Johnson as did its rival, the _Critical Review_. It was the -_Monthly_ that Goldsmith did hack work for. Smollett wrote for the -other. See Irving's _Life of Goldsmith_, Chapter VII. - -=19= 31. It was published in 1755, price £4 10_s._, bound. - -=20= 17. The letter, which needs no comment, is as follows: - - February 7, 1755. - - TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD. - - My Lord, - - I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of the World, - that two papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the - publick, were written by your Lordship. To be so distinguished, - is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours - from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what - terms to acknowledge. - - When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your - Lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by - the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to - wish that I might boast myself _Le vainqueur du vainqueur de - la terre_;--that I might obtain that regard for which I saw - the world contending; but I found my attendance so little - encouraged that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me - to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in - publick, I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a - retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. I have done all that - I could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, - be it ever so little. - - Seven years, my Lord, have now past, since I waited in your - outward rooms or was repulsed from your door; during which time - I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which - it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the - verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word - of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did - not expect, for I never had a Patron before. - - The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and - found him a native of the rocks. - - Is not a Patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a - man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached - ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have - been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had - been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and - cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till - I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical - asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been - received, or to be unwilling that the Publick should consider - me as owing that to a Patron, which Providence has enabled me - to do for myself. - - Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to - any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though - I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I - have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which I once - boasted myself with so much exultation, - - My Lord, - Your Lordship's most humble, - Most obedient servant, - SAM. JOHNSON. - -=20= 24. =Horne Tooke.= A name assumed by John Horne, a politician -and philologist whose career is briefly outlined in _The Century -Dictionary_. The passage which so moved him follows. - - In this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted, let - it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed; and though - no book was ever spared out of tenderness to the authour, and - the world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the - faults of that which it condemns; yet it may gratify curiosity - to inform it that the _English Dictionary_ was written with - little assistance of the learned, and without any patronage - of the great; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or - under the shelter of academick bowers, but amidst inconvenience - and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow. It may repress - the triumph of malignant criticism to observe, that if our - language is not here fully displayed, I have only failed in an - attempt which no human powers have hitherto completed. If the - lexicons of ancient tongues, now immutably fixed, and comprised - in a few volumes, be yet, after the toil of successive ages, - inadequate and delusive; if the aggregated knowledge, and - co-operating diligence of the _Italian_ academicians, did - not secure them from the censure of _Beni_; if the embodied - criticks of _France_, when fifty years had been spent upon - their work, were obliged to change its oeconomy, and give their - second edition another form, I may surely be contented without - the praise of perfection, which, if I could obtain, in this - gloom of solitude, what would it avail me? I have protracted - my work till most of those whom I wished to please have sunk - into the grave, and success and miscarriage are empty sounds: I - therefore dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, having little to - fear or hope from censure or from praise. - -This extract is taken from the fourth edition, London, MDCCLXXIII, -the last to receive Johnson's corrections. If you possibly can get -the opportunity, turn these volumes over enough to find a few of the -whimsical definitions, such, for example, as that of lexicographer, -according to Johnson "a writer of dictionaries, a _harmless drudge_." -Other words worth looking up are _excise_, _oats_, and _networks_. - -=21= 6. =Junius and Skinner.= Johnson frankly admitted that for -etymologies he turned to the shelf which contained the etymological -dictionaries of these seventeenth-century students of the Teutonic -languages. This phase of dictionary making was not considered so deeply -then as it is now. - -=21= 13. =spunging-houses.= Johnson's _Dictionary_ says: -"Spunging-house. A house to which debtors are taken before commitment -to prison, where the bailiffs sponge upon them, or riot at their cost." - -=21= 26. =Jenyns.= This writer, who, according to Boswell, "could very -happily play with a light subject," ventured so far beyond his depth -that it was easy for Johnson to expose him. - -=22= 10. =Rasselas.= Had Johnson written nothing else, says Boswell, -_Rasselas_ "would have rendered his name immortal in the world of -literature.... It has been translated into most, if not all, of the -modern languages." - -=22= 12. =Miss Lydia Languish.= Of course plays are not necessarily -written to be read, but Sheridan's well-known comedy, _The Rivals_, is -decidedly readable. Every one should be familiar with Miss Languish and -Mrs. Malaprop. - -=23= 8. =Bruce.= The _Dictionary of National Biography_ says that -James Bruce--whose _Travels to Discover the Sources of the Nile_, five -volumes, appeared in 1790--"will always remain the poet, and his work -the epic, of African travel." - -=23= 13. =Mrs. Lennox.= A woman whose literary efforts Johnson -encouraged so much as he did Mrs. Lennox's is certainly worth looking -up in the index to Boswell's _Johnson_.--=Mrs. Sheridan=, the -dramatist's mother, gave Johnson many an entertaining evening in her -home. She and her son entered heartily into the lively, stimulating -conversations he loved. - -=23= 25. =Hector ... Aristotle.= The sacking of Troy is generally -assigned to the twelfth century B.C. Aristotle lived eight centuries -later.--=Julio Romano.= An Italian painter of the fifteenth century. - -=24= 5. =the Lord Privy Seal.= Some documents require only the privy -seal; others must have the great seal too. For Johnson's admission that -the printer was wise in striking out the reference alluded to, see the -index to Boswell's _Johnson_, under _Gower_. - -=24= 14. =Oxford.= By recalling what Macaulay said in the early part of -the essay (=10= 26, 27) about Oxford, and by bearing in mind what House -[of Stuart? of Hanover?] George the Third belonged to, one sees point -to "was becoming loyal." - -=24= 14-18. Study these four short sentences in connection with the -preceding sentence beginning "George the Third." To what extent are -they a repetition? To what extent an explanation? - -=24= 22. =accepted.= When, in answer to Johnson's question to Lord -Bute, "Pray, my Lord, what am I expected to do for this pension?" he -received the ready reply, "It is not given you for anything you are to -do, but for what you have done," he hesitated no longer. - -Three hundred a year was a large sum in Johnson's eyes at that time. -Whether he wrote less than he would have written without it may be -questioned, says Mr. Hill, but he adds that probably "without the -pension he would not have lived to write the second greatest of his -works--the _Lives of the Poets_." - -=25= 19. =a ghost ... Cock Lane.= If you will read Boswell's account of -the affair, you will probably conclude that Johnson was not quite so -"weak" as Macaulay implies. - -=25= 26. =Churchill.= One of the reigning wits of the day, Boswell says. - -=26= 3. =The preface.= Other critics speak with more enthusiasm of the -good sense and the clear expression of the preface, and find that these -qualities are not altogether lacking in the notes. - -=26= 8. =Wilhelm Meister.= The hero of Goethe's novel of the same name. -You may have read this passage on _Hamlet_ in Rolfe's edition (p. 14), -quoted from Furness's _Hamlet_, Vol. II, pp. 272 ff. Sprague also -quotes it in his edition, p. 13. - -=26= 26. =Ben.= The eighteenth-century Johnson has been followed by -the nineteenth-century critics in putting a high estimate on the Jonson -who wrote _Every Man in His Humor_. We are told that Shakspere took -one of the parts in this play, acted in 1598. If you are not satisfied -with the account in _The Century Dictionary_, or with any encyclopędia -article, see _The English Poets_, edited by T. H. Ward, Vol. II (The -Macmillan Company). - -=26= 33-34. =Ęschylus, Euripides, Sophocles.= Three great contemporary -Greek tragedians. - -=27= 3. =Fletcher.= Point out why an editor of Shakspere's plays should -be familiar with the work of this group of Elizabethan dramatists. - -=27= 11. =Royal Academy.= "His Majesty having the preceding year [1768] -instituted the Royal Academy of Arts in London, Johnson had won the -honour of being appointed Professor in Ancient Literature."--Boswell. -Goldsmith was Professor in Ancient History in the same institution, and -Boswell was Secretary for Foreign Correspondence. Look in _The Century -Dictionary_ under _academy_, the third meaning, and recall whatever you -may have heard or read about the French Academy. - -=27= 12. =the King.= "His Majesty expressed a desire to have the -literary biography of this country ably executed, and proposed to Dr. -Johnson to undertake it."--Boswell. Read Boswell's account of the -interview. In consulting the index look under _George III._ - -=27= 22. =colloquial talents.= Madame d'Arblay once said that Johnson -had about him more "fun, and comical humour, and love of nonsense" than -almost anybody else she ever saw. - -=28= 23. =Goldsmith.= Macaulay's article on Goldsmith in _The -Encyclopędia Britannica_ is short, and so thoroughly readable that -there is no excuse for not being familiar with it. Boswell is -continually giving interesting glimpses of Dr. Oliver Goldsmith, and -by taking advantage of the index in the _Life of Johnson_ one may in -half an hour learn a great deal about this remarkable man. According -to Boswell, "he had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the -acquaintance of Johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by -the contemplation of such a model." - -=28= 24. =Reynolds.= We can learn from short articles about Sir -Joshua's career, but the index to Boswell's _Johnson_ will introduce -us to the good times the great portrait painter had with the great -conversationalist whom we are studying. Reynolds was the first proposer -of the Club, and "there seems to have been hardly a day," says Robina -Napier, "when these friends did not meet in the painting room or in -general society." Ruskin says, "Titian paints nobler pictures and -Vandyke had nobler subjects, but neither of them entered so subtly as -Sir Joshua did into the minor varieties of human heart and temper." -The business of his art "was not to criticise, but to observe," and -for this purpose the hours he spent at the Club might be as profitable -as those spent in his painting room. It will be interesting to make a -list of some of the most notable "subjects" Reynolds painted.--=Burke.= -Be sure to read Boswell's account of the famous Round Robin. It -will make you feel better acquainted with Burke, Johnson, Reynolds, -and Goldsmith. The student will find valuable material in Professor -Lamont's edition of Burke's _Speech on Conciliation with America_, -published by Ginn & Company. - -=28= 25. =Gibbon.= You noticed on the _Round Robin_ the autograph of -the author of _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_? - -=28= 26. =Jones.= Sir William Henry Rich Jones was "the first English -scholar to master Sanskrit, and to recognize its importance for -comparative philology," says _The Century Dictionary_. - -=29= 9. =Johnson's Club.= The Club still flourishes. Both Scott and -Macaulay belonged to it. - -=29= 14. =James Boswell.= "Out of the fifteen millions that then lived, -and had bed and board, in the British Islands, this man has provided us -a greater _pleasure_ than any other individual, at whose cost we now -enjoy ourselves; perhaps has done us a greater _service_ than can be -specially attributed to more than two or three: yet, ungrateful that -we are, no written or spoken eulogy of James Boswell anywhere exists; -his recompense in solid pudding (so far as copyright went) was not -excessive; and as for the empty praise, it has altogether been denied -him. Men are unwiser than children; they do not know the hand that -feeds." - -So Carlyle writes of the man; the book, he says, is "beyond any other -product of the eighteenth century"; it draws aside the curtains of the -Past and gives us a picture which changeful Time cannot harm or hide. -The picture charms generation after generation because it is true. "It -is not speaking with exaggeration, but with strict measured sobriety, -to say that this Book of Boswell's will give us more real insight into -the _History of England_ during those days than twenty other Books, -falsely entitled 'Histories,' which take to themselves that special -aim.... The thing I want to see is not Redbook Lists, and Court -Calendars, and Parliamentary Registers, but the LIFE OF MAN in England: -what men did, thought, suffered, enjoyed; the form, especially the -spirit, of their terrestrial existence, its outward environment, its -inward principle; _how_ and _what_ it was; whence it proceeded, whither -it was tending.... - -"Hence, indeed, comes it that History, which should be 'the essence of -innumerable Biographies,' will tell us, question it as we like, less -than one genuine Biography may do, pleasantly and of its own accord!" - -Mr. Leslie Stephen says that "Macaulay's graphic description of -his absurdities, and Carlyle's more penetrating appreciation of his -higher qualities, contain all that can be said"; but the more recent -testimony of Dr. George B. Hill, in _Dr. Johnson, His Friends and His -Critics_, should count for something. Dr. Hill points out that while -Macaulay grants Boswell immortality he refuses him greatness, and calls -attention to what he considers elements of greatness. In regard to the -accuracy of a biographer who would "run half over London, in order to -fix a date correctly," he says: "That love, I might almost say that -passion for accuracy, that distinguished Boswell in so high a degree -does not belong to a mind that is either mean or feeble. Mean minds are -indifferent to truth, and feeble minds can see no importance in a date." - -=29= 27. =Wilkes.= John Wilkes, a notorious politician, was imprisoned -for writing an article in which he attacked George the Third. The -liberty of the press was involved and Wilkes was released, much to -the delight of the people. For a brief summary of the Bill of Rights, -see Brewer's _Historic Note-book_ or _A Handbook of English Political -History_, by Acland and Ransome. - -=29= 29. =Whitfield.= Macaulay's short sentence implies, does it not, -that Whitfield (or Whitefield) was a noisy, open-air preacher among the -Calvinistic Methodists? In testing the accuracy of this inference in -_The Encyclopędia Britannica_ or in Franklin's _Autobiography_, note in -what countries Whitefield preached, and where he died. Boswell quotes -Johnson's opinion of Whitefield in two places. - -=29= 30. =In a happy hour.= May 16, 1763. By all means read Boswell's -account of the rough reception he received and the persistence -necessary to secure the fastening. - -=31= 14. =pity ... esteem.= The Thrales were not alone in overlooking -these oddities. "His tricks and contortions, a subject for pity not -ridicule," says Mr. Hoste, "were ignored by the celebrated wits and -beauties who visited him in his gloomy 'den,' and by the duchesses and -other distinguished ladies who gathered 'four and five deep' around him -at fashionable assemblies, hanging on his sentences, and contended for -the nearest places to his chair." - -=31= 15. =Southwark.= South of the commercial center of London and -across the Thames. - -=31= 16. =Streatham.= About five miles southwest of London City. -The Southwark apartment was in a commercial district; the Streatham -apartment in a thinly settled residential suburb. - -=31= 34. =Maccaroni.= See _The Century Dictionary_ or Brewer's -_Handbook of Phrase and Fable_. - -=32= 21. =Levett.= Of Levett, Goldsmith said to Boswell, "He is poor -and honest, which is recommendation enough to Johnson." - -=32= 30. =the Mitre Tavern.= "The Mitre Tavern still stands in Fleet -Street: but where now is its Scot-and-lot paying, beef-and-ale -loving, cock-hatted, potbellied Landlord; its rosy-faced, assiduous -Landlady, with all her shining brass-pans, waxed tables, well-filled -larder-shelves; her cooks, and bootjacks, and errand-boys, and -watery-mouthed hangers-on? Gone! Gone! The becking waiter, that with -wreathed smiles was wont to spread for Samuel and Bozzy their 'supper -of the gods,' has long since pocketed his last sixpence; and vanished, -six-pences and all, like a ghost at cockcrowing." Yet, Carlyle goes on -to say, thanks to this book of Boswell's, "they who are gone are still -here; though hidden they are revealed, though dead they yet speak." - -=33= 27. =Hebrides.= Locate these picturesque islands on the map. - -=34= 10. =Lord Mansfield.= William Murray, chief justice of the King's -Bench from 1756 to 1788, has been called "the founder of English -commercial law." - -=34= 23. =Macpherson.= In 1760 James Macpherson published what -purported to be fragments of Gaelic verse with translations. These -were so interesting that he was sent to the Highlands to hunt for -more, and within three years he published the _Poems of Ossian_, -consisting of two epics, "Fingal" and "Temora." Their genuineness has -been discussed ever since. Evidently Johnson settled the matter to his -own satisfaction and to Macaulay's, and you may be interested in what -Boswell has to say. At the same time it seems clear that Johnson went -too far in his charge of forgery. Macpherson probably did not find a -complete epic, yet he undoubtedly found some Gaelic poetry. - -=34= 27. =contemptuous terms.= Boswell gives the following letter: - - MR. JAMES MACPHERSON, - - I received your foolish and impudent letter. Any violence - offered me I shall do my best to repel; and what I cannot do - for myself, the law shall do for me. I hope I shall not be - deterred from detecting what I think a cheat, by the menaces of - a ruffian. - - What would you have me retract? I thought your book an - imposture; I think it an imposture still. For this opinion I - have given my reasons to the publick, which I here dare you to - refute. Your rage I defy. Your abilities, since your Homer, are - not so formidable; and what I hear of your morals, inclines me - to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall - prove. You may print this if you will. - - SAM. JOHNSON. - -=35= 11-12. =The Kenricks, Campbells, MacNicols, and Hendersons.= If -Johnson and Macaulay do not tell enough about these men, Boswell does. - -=35= 30. =Bentley.= Richard Bentley (1662-1742), a well-known English -classical scholar and critic. - -=36= 13. =Taxation no Tyranny.= The rest of the title is _An Answer to -the Resolutions and Address of the American Congress_. - -=37= 6. =Wilson.= Richard Wilson was one of the greatest English -landscape painters, says _The Dictionary of National Biography_. - -=37= 14. =Cowley.= The man who wrote - -God the first garden made, and the first city Cain. - -=37= 18. =Restoration.= The _International Dictionary_ offers a brief -explanation in case you are not absolutely certain of the exact meaning. - -=37= 23. =Walmesley.= See note to =5= 32.--=Button's.= Button's -coffeehouse flourished earlier in the century. Do you remember any -other reference to it? to Will's? to Child's?--=Cibber.= Colley Cibber, -actor and dramatist, altered and adapted some of Shakspere's plays. -Both Johnson and Boswell express their opinions of him frankly enough. -He was appointed poet laureate in 1730. - -=37= 25. =Orrery.= Orrery did more than enjoy this privilege,--he wrote -a book entitled _Remarks on the Life and Writings of Jonathan Swift_. -Boswell records Johnson's opinion of it. What other great literary men -enjoyed the society of Swift? _The Century Dictionary_ gives a column -to Swift, and Johnson has a sketch in his _Lives of the Poets_. - -=37= 26. =services of no very honourable kind.= By supplying Pope with -private intelligence for his _Dunciad_ he "gained the esteem of Pope -and the enmity of his victims." - -=38= 32. =Malone.= Edmund Malone was a friend of Johnson, Burke, and -Reynolds. He wrote a supplement to Johnson's edition of Shakspere, -published an edition of Reynolds's works, and after bringing out his -own edition of Shakspere, left material for another edition, which was -published by James Boswell the younger in 1821. Boswell's _Malone_, the -"third variorum" edition, is generally considered the best. To Boswell -the elder, an intimate friend, he was of much assistance in preparing -the _Life of Johnson_, and he edited with valuable notes the third, -fourth, fifth, and sixth reissues of the work. - -=40= 21-22. =In a solemn and tender prayer.= - - Almighty God, Father of all mercy, help me by thy grace, that - I may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the - comforts and conveniences which I have enjoyed at this place; - and that I may resign them with holy submission, equally - trusting in thy protection when thou givest, and when thou - takest away. Have mercy upon me, O Lord, have mercy upon me. - - To thy fatherly protection, O Lord, I commend this family. - Bless, guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through - this world, as finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting - happiness, for Jesus Christ's sake, Amen.--Boswell's _Johnson_. - -=41= 1. =Italian fiddler.= A violinist of much talent. Piozzi was -the music master from Brescia who, a little over three years after -Mr. Thrale's death, married the widow. After learning what you can -from Boswell, you will enjoy some such account as the _Encyclopędia -Britannica_ offers. While doing your reading it may be well to keep in -mind what two or three critics have said. Mr. Mowbray Morris writes: -"After all the abuse showered on the unfortunate woman it is pleasant -to know that the marriage proved a happy one in every respect. Piozzi, -who was really a well-mannered, amiable man, took every care of his -wife's fortune, and on their return to England her family and friends -were soon reconciled to him." Mr. Leslie Stephen says: "Her love of -Piozzi, which was both warm and permanent, is the most amiable feature -of her character." Mr. Herbert Paul, after praising Macaulay's _Life of -Johnson_, adds, "Yet, if I may say so, I can never forgive Macaulay for -his cruel and unaccountable injustice to Mrs. Thrale." - -=41= 3. =the Ephesian matron.= She cared so much for her husband that -she went into the vault to die with him, and there, in the midst of -her violent grief, fell in love with a soldier who was guarding some -dead bodies near by. For the story (told by a Latin writer, Petronius), -see Jeremy Taylor's _The Rule and Exercises of Holy Dying_, Chapter V, -section 8.--=the two pictures.= In Act III. - -=42= 2. =Burke parted from him.= After twenty-seven years of -uninterrupted friendship with Johnson, says Robina Napier.--=Windham.= -The Right Hon. William Windham, a member of the Club, a friend of -Malone, Burke, Fox, and Pitt; in 1794 Secretary at War (Pitt's -ministry), in 1806 War and Colonial Secretary (Lord Grenville's -ministry); in the words of Macaulay, "the first gentleman of his age, -the ingenious, the chivalrous, the high-souled Windham." Johnson wrote -him appreciative letters in August and October, 1784. See Boswell. - -=42= 4. =Frances Burney.= In Macaulay's essay on Madame d'Arblay, he -says: "Her appearance is an important epoch in our literary history. -Evelina was the first tale written by a woman, and purporting to be a -picture of life and manners, that lived or deserved to live." Read this -account of the "timid and obscure girl" who suddenly "found herself on -the highest pinnacle of fame," eulogized by such men as Burke, Windham, -Gibbon, Reynolds, and Sheridan. - -=42= 6. =Langton.= See page 30. - -=42= 10-11. =his temper.= In connection with this closing sentence let -us remember a paragraph from Boswell (1776): - -"That he was occasionally remarkable for violence of temper may be -granted: but let us ascertain the degree, and not let it be supposed -that he was in a perpetual rage, and never without a club in his hand -to knock down every one who approached him. On the contrary, the truth -is, that by much the greatest part of his time he was civil, obliging, -nay, polite in the true sense of the word; so much so, that many -gentlemen who were long acquainted with him never received, or even -heard a strong expression from him." - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[1] Trevelyan, _Life and Letters_, I, 41. - -[2] Trevelyan, I, 47. - -[3] The entire letter is interesting. See Trevelyan, I, 56. The letters -of this period are particularly attractive. - -[4] _Ibid._ I, 91. - -[5] Trevelyan, I, 102. The letters from college are well worth reading. - -[6] Trevelyan, I, 136. - -[7] _Ibid._, 179. - -[8] Trevelyan, I, 249-253. - -[9] Trevelyan, I, 368. - -[10] _Ibid._, II, 68. - -[11] Trevelyan, II, 89. - -[12] _Carlyle's Essay on Burns_, p. 5, Ginn's edition. - -[13] Trevelyan, II. 96. - -[14] For Trevelyan's evidence, see II, 191. - -[15] Trevelyan, II, 244. - -[16] _Ibid._, 321. - -[17] Trevelyan, II, 15. - -[18] _The Quarterly Review_, July, 1876. - -[19] It is proper to observe that this passage bears a very close -resemblance to a passage in the Rambler (No. 20). The resemblance may -possibly be the effect of unconscious plagiarism.--_Macaulay._ - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - - -Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant -preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected. - -To preserve line numbers on pages 1-75, each line on those pages is -shown here as it appeared in the original book, with two exceptions: to -make the text searchable, words originally split across two lines have -been made whole by moving them to one or the other of those lines; and -a few words have been moved to adjacent lines so they would not extend -into the area reserved for line numbers. - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Macaulay's Life of Samuel Johnson, by -Thomas Babington Macaulay - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MACAULAY'S LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON *** - -***** This file should be named 42971-8.txt or 42971-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/9/7/42971/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Brett Fishburne, Charlie Howard, -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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