The Life Of Johnson Vol 1 by James Boswell (page 4)

by any body.’

The opinion conceived of it by another noble authour, appears from the following extract of a letter from the Earl of Orrery to Dr. Birch:

‘Caledon, Dec. 30, 1747.

‘I have just now seen the specimen of Mr. Johnson’s Dictionary, addressed to Lord Chesterfield. I am much pleased with the plan, and I think the specimen is one of the best that I have ever read. Most specimens disgust, rather than prejudice us in favour of the work to follow; but the language of Mr. Johnson’s is good, and the arguments are properly and modestly expressed. However, some expressions may be cavilled at, but they are trifles. I’ll mention one. The _barren_ Laurel. The laurel is not barren, in any sense whatever; it bears fruits and flowers[539]. _Sed hae sunt nugae_, and I have great expectation from the performance[540].’

That he was fully aware of the arduous nature of the undertaking, he acknowledges; and shews himself perfectly sensible of it in the conclusion of his _Plan_[541]; but he had a noble consciousness of his own abilities, which enabled him to go on with undaunted spirit[542].

[Page 186: The Dictionary of the French Academy. A.D. 1748.]

Dr. Adams found him one day busy at his _Dictionary_, when the following dialogue ensued. ‘ADAMS. This is a great work, Sir. How are you to get all the etymologies? JOHNSON. Why, Sir, here is a shelf with Junius, and Skinner[543], and others; and there is a Welch gentleman who has published a collection of Welch proverbs, who will help me with the Welch[544]. ADAMS. But, Sir, how can you do this in three years? JOHNSON. Sir, I have no doubt that I can do it in three years. ADAMS. But the French Academy, which consists of forty members, took forty years to compile their Dictionary. JOHNSON. Sir, thus it is. This is the proportion. Let me see; forty times forty is sixteen hundred. As three to sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an Englishman to a Frenchman.’ With so much ease and pleasantry could he talk of that prodigious labour which he had undertaken to execute.

The publick has had, from another pen[545], a long detail of what had been done in this country by prior Lexicographers; and no doubt Johnson was wise to avail himself of them, so far as they went: but the learned, yet judicious research of etymology[546], the various, yet accurate display of definition, and the rich collection of authorities, were reserved for the superior mind of our great philologist[547]. For the mechanical part he employed, as he told me, six amanuenses; and let it be remembered by the natives of North-Britain, to whom he is supposed to have been so hostile, that five of them were of that country. There were two Messieurs Macbean; Mr. Shiels, who we shall hereafter see partly wrote the _Lives of the Poets_ to which the name of Cibber is affixed[548]; Mr. Stewart, son of Mr. George Stewart, bookseller at Edinburgh; and a Mr. Maitland. The sixth of these humble assistants was Mr. Peyton, who, I believe, taught French, and published some elementary tracts.

[Page 187: Johnson’s amanuenses. AEtat 38.]

To all these painful labourers, Johnson shewed a never-ceasing kindness, so far as they stood in need of it. The elder Mr. Macbean had afterwards the honour of being Librarian to Archibald, Duke of Argyle, for many years, but was left without a shilling. Johnson wrote for him a Preface to _A System of Ancient Geography_; and, by the favour of Lord Thurlow, got him admitted a poor brother of the Charterhouse[549]. For Shiels, who died, of a consumption, he had much tenderness; and it has been thought that some choice sentences in the _Lives of the Poets_ were supplied by him[550]. Peyton, when reduced to penury, had frequent aid from the bounty of Johnson, who at last was at the expense of burying both him and his wife[551].

[Page 188: The upper room in Gough-square. A.D. 1748.]

[Page 189: Authours quoted in THE DICTIONARY. AEtat 39.]

While the _Dictionary_ was going forward, Johnson lived part of the time in Holborn, part in Gough-square, Fleet-street; and he had an upper room fitted up like a counting-house for the purpose, in which he gave to the copyists their several tasks[552]. The words, partly taken from other dictionaries, and partly supplied by himself, having been first written down with spaces left between them, he delivered in writing their etymologies, definitions, and various significations[553]. The authorities were copied from the books themselves, in which he had marked the passages with a black-lead pencil, the traces of which could easily be effaced[554]. I have seen several of them, in which that trouble had not been taken; so that they were just as when used by the copyists[555]. It is remarkable, that he was so attentive in the choice of the passages in which words were authorised, that one may read page after page of his _Dictionary_ with improvement and pleasure; and it should not pass unobserved, that he has quoted no authour whose writings had a tendency to hurt sound religion and morality[556].

The necessary expense of preparing a work of such magnitude for the press, must have been a considerable deduction from the price stipulated to be paid for the copy-right. I understand that nothing was allowed by the booksellers on that account; and I remember his telling me, that a large portion of it having by mistake been written upon both sides of the paper, so as to be inconvenient for the compositor, it cost him twenty pounds to have it transcribed upon one side only.

[Page 190: The Ivy Lane Club. A.D. 1748.]

[Page 191: Mr. John Hawkins, an attorney. AEtat 39.]

He is now to be considered as ‘tugging at his oar[557],’ as engaged in a steady continued course of occupation, sufficient to employ all his time for some years; and which was the best preventive of that constitutional melancholy which was ever lurking about him, ready to trouble his quiet. But his enlarged and lively mind could not be satisfied without more diversity of employment, and the pleasure of animated relaxation[558]. He therefore not only exerted his talents in occasional composition very different from Lexicography, but formed a club in Ivy-lane, Paternoster-row, with a view to enjoy literary discussion, and amuse his evening hours. The members associated with him in this little society were his beloved friend Dr. Richard Bathurst[559], Mr. Hawkesworth[560], afterwards well known by his writings, Mr. John Hawkins, an attorney[561], and a few others of different professions[562].

[Page 192: The Vision of Theodore. A.D. 1749.]

In the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for May of this year he wrote a ‘Life of Roscommon,'[*] with Notes, which he afterwards much improved, indented the notes into text, and inserted it amongst his _Lives of the English Poets_.

Mr. Dodsley this year brought out his _Preceptor_, one of the most valuable books for the improvement of young minds that has appeared in any language; and to this meritorious work Johnson furnished ‘The Preface,'[*] containing a general sketch of the book, with a short and perspicuous recommendation of each article; as also, ‘The Vision of Theodore the Hermit, found in his Cell,'[*] a most beautiful allegory of human life, under the figure of ascending the mountain of Existence. The Bishop of Dromore heard Dr. Johnson say, that he thought this was the best thing he ever wrote[563].

1749: AETAT. 40.–In January, 1749, he published _The Vanity of Human Wishes, being the Tenth Satire of Juvenal imitated_[564]. He, I believe, composed it the preceding year[565]. Mrs. Johnson, for the sake of country air, had lodgings at Hampstead, to which he resorted occasionally, and there the greatest part, if not the whole, of this _Imitation_ was written[566]. The fervid rapidity with which it was produced, is scarcely credible. I have heard him say, that he composed seventy lines of it in one day, without putting one of them upon paper till they were finished[567].

[Page 193: The payment of poets.]

I remember when I once regretted to him that he had not given us more of Juvenal’s _Satires_, he said he probably should give more, for he had them all in his head; by which I understood that he had the originals and correspondent allusions floating in his mind, which he could, when he pleased, embody and render permanent without much labour. Some of them, however, he observed were too gross for imitation.

The profits of a single poem, however excellent, appear to have been very small in the last reign, compared with what a publication of the same size has since been known to yield. I have mentioned, upon Johnson’s own authority, that for his _London_ he had only ten guineas; and now, after his fame was established, he got for his _Vanity of Human Wishes_ but five guineas more, as is proved by an authentick document in my possession[568].

It will be observed, that he reserves to himself the right of printing one edition of this satire, which was his practice upon occasion of the sale of all his writings; it being his fixed intention to publish at some period, for his own profit, a complete collection of his works[569].

His _Vanity of Human Wishes_ has less of common life, but more of a philosophick dignity than his _London_. More readers, therefore, will be delighted with the pointed spirit of _London_, than with the profound reflection of _The Vanity of Human Wishes_[570]. Garrick, for instance, observed in his sprightly manner, with more vivacity than regard to just discrimination, as is usual with wits, ‘When Johnson lived much with the Herveys, and saw a good deal of what was passing in life, he wrote his _London_, which is lively and easy. When he became more retired, he gave us his _Vanity of Human Wishes_, which is as hard as Greek. Had he gone on to imitate another satire, it would have been as hard as Hebrew[571].’

[Page 194: Lydiat’s life. A.D. 1749.]

But _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ is, in the opinion of the best judges, as high an effort of ethick poetry as any language can shew. The instances of variety of disappointment are chosen so judiciously and painted so strongly, that, the moment they are read, they bring conviction to every thinking mind. That of the scholar must have depressed the too sanguine expectations of many an ambitious student[572]. That of the warrior, Charles of Sweden, is, I think, as highly finished a picture as can possibly be conceived.

[Page 195: The conclusion of Johnson’s poem. AEtat 40.]

Were all the other excellencies of this poem annihilated, it must ever have our grateful reverence from its noble conclusion; in which we are consoled with the assurance that happiness may be attained, if we ‘apply our hearts[573]’ to piety:

‘Where then shall hope and fear their objects find? Shall dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate,
Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? Shall no dislike alarm, no wishes rise,
No cries attempt the mercy of the skies? Enthusiast[574], cease; petitions yet remain, Which Heav’n may hear, nor deem Religion vain. Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice. Safe in His hand, whose eye discerns afar The secret ambush of a specious pray’r;
Implore His aid, in His decisions rest, Secure whate’er He gives He gives the best. Yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, And strong devotion to the skies aspires, Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, Obedient passions, and a will resign’d;
For love, which scarce collective man can fill, For patience, sovereign o’er transmuted ill; For faith, which panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind Nature’s signal for retreat. These goods for man the laws of Heaven ordain, These goods He grants, who grants the power to gain; With these celestial wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find.’

[Page 196: IRENE on the stage. A.D. 1749.]

Garrick being now vested with theatrical power by being manager of Drury-lane theatre, he kindly and generously made use of it to bring out Johnson’s tragedy, which had been long kept back for want of encouragement. But in this benevolent purpose he met with no small difficulty from the temper of Johnson, which could not brook that a drama which he had formed with much study, and had been obliged to keep more than the nine years of Horace[575], should be revised and altered at the pleasure of an actor[576]. Yet Garrick knew well, that without some alterations it would not be fit for the stage. A violent dispute having ensued between them, Garrick applied to the Reverend Dr. Taylor to interposc. Johnson was at first very obstinate. ‘Sir, (said he) the fellow wants me to make Mahomet run mad, that he may have an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels[577].’ He was, however, at last, with difficulty, prevailed on to comply with Garrick’s wishes, so as to allow of some changes; but still there were not enough.

[Page 197: The Epilogue to IRENE. AEtat 40.]

Dr. Adams was present the first night of the representation of _Irene_, and gave me the following account: ‘Before the curtain drew up, there were catcalls whistling, which alarmed Johnson’s friends. The Prologue, which was written by himself in a manly strain, soothed the audience[578], and the play went off tolerably, till it came to the conclusion, when Mrs. Pritchard[579], the heroine of the piece, was to be strangled upon the stage, and was to speak two lines with the bow-string round her neck. The audience cried out “_Murder! Murder_[580]!” She several times attempted to speak; but in vain. At last she was obliged to go off the stage alive.’ This passage was afterwards struck out, and she was carried off to be put to death behind the scenes, as the play now has it[581]. The Epilogue, as Johnson informed me, was written by Sir William Yonge[582]. I know not how his play came to be thus graced by the pen of a person then so eminent in the political world.

Notwithstanding all the support of such performers as Garrick, Barry, Mrs. Cibber, Mrs. Pritchard, and every advantage of dress and decoration, the tragedy of _Irene_ did not please the publick[583]. Mr. Garrick’s zeal carried it through for nine nights[584], so that the authour had his three nights’ profits; and from a receipt signed by him, now in the hands of Mr. James Dodsley, it appears that his friend Mr. Robert Dodsley gave him one hundred pounds for the copy, with his usual reservation of the right of one edition[585].

[Page 198: IRENE as a poem. A.D. 1749.]

[Page 199: Johnson no tragedy-writer. AEtat 40.]

_Irene_, considered as a poem, is intitled to the praise of superiour excellence[586]. Analysed into parts, it will furnish a rich store of noble sentiments, fine imagery, and beautiful language; but it is deficient in pathos, in that delicate power of touching the human feelings, which is the principal end of the drama[587]. Indeed Garrick has complained to me, that Johnson not only had not the faculty of producing the impressions of tragedy, but that he had not the sensibility to perceive them. His great friend Mr. Walmsley’s prediction, that he would ‘turn out a fine tragedy-writer[588],’ was, therefore, ill-founded. Johnson was wise enough to be convinced that he had not the talents necessary to write successfully for the stage, and never made another attempt in that species of composition[589].

[Page 200: Deference for the general opinion. A.D. 1749.]

When asked how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, he replied, ‘Like the Monument[590];’ meaning that he continued firm and unmoved as that column. And let it be remembered, as an admonition to the _genus irritabile_[591] of dramatick writers, that this great man, instead of peevishly complaining of the bad taste of the town, submitted to its decision without a murmur. He had, indeed, upon all occasions, a great deference for the general opinion[592]: ‘A man (said he) who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the publick to whom he appeals, must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions.’

[Page 201: Johnson in the Green Room. AEtat 41.]

On occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, Johnson had a fancy that as a dramatick authour his dress should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore; he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold-laced hat[593]. He humourously observed to Mr. Langton, that ‘when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes[594].’ Dress indeed, we must allow, has more effect even upon strong minds than one should suppose, without having had the experience of it. His necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers of both sexes, which produced a more favourable opinion of their profession than he had harshly expressed in his _Life of Savage_[595]. With some of them he kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to shew them acts of kindness. He for a considerable time used to frequent the _Green Room_, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there[596]. Mr. David Hume related to me from Mr. Garrick, that Johnson at last denied himself this amusement, from considerations of rigid virtue; saying, ‘I’ll come no more behind your scenes, David; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities.’

[Page 202: The Rambler. A.D. 1750.]

1750: AETAT. 41.–In 1750 he came forth in the character for which he was eminently qualified, a majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom. The vehicle which he chose was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had been, upon former occasions, employed with great success. The _Tatler, Spectator_, and _Guardian_, were the last of the kind published in England, which had stood the test of a long trial[597]; and such an interval had now elapsed since their publication, as made him justly think that, to many of his readers, this form of instruction would, in some degree, have the advantage of novelty. A few days before the first of his _Essays_ came out, there started another competitor for fame in the same form, under the title of _The _Tatler Revived_[598], which I believe was ‘born but to die[599].’ Johnson was, I think, not very happy in the choice of his title, _The Rambler_, which certainly is not suited to a series of grave and moral discourses; which the Italians have literally, but ludicrously translated by _Il Vagabondo_[600]; and which has been lately assumed as the denomination of a vehicle of licentious tales, _The Rambler’s Magazine_. He gave Sir Joshua Reynolds the following account of its getting this name: ‘What _must_ be done, Sir, _will_ be done. When I was to begin publishing that paper, I was at a loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that I would not go to sleep till I had fixed its title. _The Rambler_ seemed the best that occurred, and I took it[601].’

With what devout and conscientious sentiments this paper was undertaken, is evidenced by the following prayer, which he composed and offered up on the occasion: ‘Almighty GOD, the giver of all good things, without whose help all labour is ineffectual, and without whose grace all wisdom is folly; grant, I beseech Thee, that in this undertaking[602] thy Holy Spirit may not be with-held from me, but that I may promote thy glory, and the salvation of myself and others: grant this, O LORD, for the sake of thy son JESUS CHRIST. Amen[603].’

[Page 203: Revision of The Rambler. AEtat 41.]

The first paper of the _Rambler_ was published on Tuesday the 20th of March, 1750; and its authour was enabled to continue it, without interruption, every Tuesday and Friday, till Saturday the 17th of March, 1752[604], on which day it closed. This is a strong confirmation of the truth of a remark of his, which I have had occasion to quote elsewhere[605], that ‘a man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly to it[606];’ for, 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; having received no assistance, except four billets in No. 10, by Miss Mulso, now Mrs. Chapone[607]; No. 30, by Mrs. Catharine Talbot[608]; No. 97, by Mr. Samuel Richardson, whom he describes in an introductory note as ‘An author who has enlarged the knowledge of human nature, and taught the passions to move at the command of virtue;’ and Nos. 44 and 100 by Mrs. Elizabeth Carter.

[Page 204: Johnson’s rapid composition. A.D. 1750.]

Posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the authority of Johnson himself, that many of these discourses, which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed[609]. It can be accounted for only in this way; that by reading and meditation, and a very close inspection of life, he had accumulated a great fund of miscellaneous knowledge, which, by a peculiar promptitude of mind, was ever ready at his call, and which he had constantly accustomed himself to clothe in the most apt and energetick expression. 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[610].

[Page 205: Hints for the Rambler. AEtat 42.]

Yet he was not altogether unprepared as a periodical writer; for I have in my possession a small duodecimo volume, in which he has written, in the form of Mr. Locke’s _Common-Place Book_, a variety of hints for essays on different subjects. He has marked upon the first blank leaf of it, ‘To the 128th page, collections for the _Rambler_;’ and in another place, ‘In fifty-two there were seventeen provided; in 97-21; in 190-25.’ At a subsequent period (probably after the work was finished) he added, ‘In all, taken of provided materials, 30[611].’

Sir John Hawkins, who is unlucky upon all occasions, tells us, that ‘this method of accumulating intelligence had been practised by Mr. Addison, and is humourously described in one of the _Spectators_[612], wherein he feigns to have dropped his paper of _notanda_, consisting of a diverting medley of broken sentences and loose hints, which he tells us he had collected, and meant to make use of. Much of the same kind is Johnson’s _Adversaria_[613]’. But the truth is, that there is no resemblance at all between them. Addison’s note was a fiction, in which unconnected fragments of his lucubrations were purposely jumbled together, in as odd a manner as he could, in order to produce a laughable effect. Whereas Johnson’s abbreviations are all distinct, and applicable to each subject of which the head is mentioned.

For instance, there is the following specimen:

_Youth’s Entry, &c_.

‘Baxter’s account of things in which he had changed his mind as he grew up. Voluminous.–No wonder.–If every man was to tell, or mark, on how many subjects he has changed, it would make vols. but the changes not always observed by man’s self.–From pleasure to bus. [business] to quiet; from thoughtfulness to reflect. to piety; from dissipation to domestic. by impercept. gradat. but the change is certain. Dial[614] _non progredi, progress. esse conspicimus_. Look back, consider what was thought at some dist. period.

‘_Hope predom. in youth. Mind not willingly indulges unpleasing thoughts_. The world lies all enameled before him, as a distant prospect sun-gilt[615]; inequalities only found by coming to it. _Love is to be all joy–children excellent_–Fame to be constant–caresses of the great–applauses of the learned–smiles of Beauty.

‘_Fear of disgrace–bashfulness_–Finds things of less importance. Miscarriages forgot like excellencies;–if remembered, of no import. Danger of sinking into negligence of reputation. Lest the fear of disgrace destroy activity.

[Page 206: Hints for The Rambler. A.D. 1750.]

‘_Confidence in himself_. Long tract of life before him.–No thought of sickness.–Embarrassment of affairs.–Distraction of family. Publick calamities.–No sense of the prevalence of bad habits.–Negligent of time–ready to undertake–careless to pursue–all changed by time.

‘_Confident of others_–unsuspecting as unexperienced–imagining himself secure against neglect, never imagines they will venture to treat him ill. Ready to trust; expecting to be trusted. Convinced by time of the selfishness, the meanness, the cowardice, the treachery of men.

‘Youth ambitious, as thinking honours easy to be had.

‘Different kinds of praise pursued at different periods. Of the gay in youth, dang. hurt, &c. despised.

‘Of the fancy in manhood. Ambit.–stocks–bargains.–Of the wise and sober in old age–seriousness–formality–maxims, but general–only of the rich, otherwise age is happy–but at last every thing referred to riches–no having fame, honour, influence, without subjection to caprice.

‘Horace[616].

‘Hard it would be if men entered life with the same views with which they leave it, or left as they enter it.–No hope–no undertaking–no regard to benevolence–no fear of disgrace, &c.

‘Youth to be taught the piety of age–age to retain the honour of youth.’

This, it will be observed, is the sketch of Number 196 of the _Rambler_. I shall gratify my readers with another specimen:

‘_Confederacies difficult; why_.

[Page 207: Hints for The Rambler. AEtat 41.]

‘Seldom in war a match for single persons–nor in peace; therefore kings make themselves absolute. Confederacies in learning–every great work the work of one. _Bruy_. Scholar’s friendship like ladies. Scribebamus, &c. Mart.[617] the apple of discord–the laurel of discord–the poverty of criticism. Swift’s opinion of the power of six geniuses united[618]. That union scarce possible. His remarks just; man a social, not steady nature. Drawn to man by words, repelled by passions. Orb drawn by attraction rep. [_repelled_] by centrifugal.

‘Common danger unites by crushing other passions–but they return. Equality hinders compliance. Superiority produces insolence and envy. Too much regard in each to private interest–too little.

‘The mischiefs of private and exclusive societies–the fitness of social attraction diffused through the whole. The mischiefs of too partial love of our country. Contraction of moral duties–[Greek: oi philoi on philos][619].

‘Every man moves upon his own center, and therefore repels others from too near a contact, though he may comply with some general laws.

‘Of confederacy with superiours, every one knows the inconvenience. With equals, no authority;–every man his own opinion–his own interest.

‘Man and wife hardly united;–scarce ever without children. Computation, if two to one against two, how many against five? If confederacies were easy–useless;–many oppresses many.–If possible only to some, dangerous. _Principum amicitias_[620]’.

Here we see the embryo of Number 45 of the _Adventurer_; and it is a confirmation of what I shall presently have occasion to mention[621], that the papers in that collection marked T. were written by Johnson.

[Page 208: The Rambler’s slow sale. A.D. 1750.]

This scanty preparation of materials will not, however, much diminish our wonder at the extraordinary fertility of his mind; for the proportion which they bear to the number of essays which he wrote, is very small; and it is remarkable, that those for which he had made no preparation, are as rich and as highly finished as those for which the hints were lying by him. It is also to be observed, that the papers formed from his hints are worked up with such strength and elegance, that we almost lose sight of the hints, which become like ‘drops in the bucket.’ Indeed, in several instances, he has made a very slender use of them, so that many of them remain still unapplied[622].

As the _Rambler_ was entirely the work of one man, there was, of course, such a uniformity in its texture, as very much to exclude the charm of variety[623]; and the grave and often solemn cast of thinking, which distinguished it from other periodical papers, made it, for some time, not generally liked. So slowly did this excellent work, of which twelve editions have now issued from the press, gain upon the world at large, that even in the closing number the authour says, ‘I have never been much a favourite of the publick[624].’

[Page 209: George II. not an Augustus. AEtat 41.]

Yet, very soon after its commencement, there were who felt and acknowledged its uncommon excellence. Verses in its praise appeared in the newspapers; and the editor of the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ mentions, in October, his having received several letters to the same purpose from the learned[625]. _The Student, or Oxford and Cambridge Miscellany_, in which Mr. Bonnell Thornton and Mr. Colman were the principal writers, describes it as ‘a work that exceeds anything of the kind ever published in this kingdom, some of the _Spectators_ excepted–if indeed they may be excepted.’ And afterwards, ‘May the publick favours crown his merits, and may not the English, under the auspicious reign of GEORGE the Second, neglect a man, who, had he lived in the first century, would have been one of the greatest favourites of Augustus.’ This flattery of the monarch had no effect. It is too well known, that the second George never was an Augustus to learning or genius[626].

[Page 210: Mrs. Johnson’s praise of The Rambler. A.D. 1750.]

Johnson told me, with an amiable fondness, a little pleasing circumstance relative to this work. Mrs. Johnson, in whose judgement and taste he had great confidence, said to him, after a few numbers of the _Rambler_ had come out, ‘I thought very well of you before; but I did not imagine you could have written any thing equal to this[627].’ Distant praise, from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as that of a wife whom a man loves and esteems. Her approbation may be said to ‘come home to his _bosom_;’ and being so near, its effect is most sensible and permanent.

Mr. James Elphinston[628], who has since published various works, and who was ever esteemed by Johnson as a worthy man, happened to be in Scotland while the _Rambler_ was coming out in single papers at London. With a laudable zeal at once for the improvement of his countrymen, and the reputation of his friend, he suggested and took the charge of an edition of those Essays at Edinburgh, which followed progressively the London publication[629].

The following letter written at this time, though not dated, will show how much pleased Johnson was with this publication, and what kindness and regard he had for Mr. Elphinston.

[Page 211: Letters to Mr. Elphinston. AEtat 41.]

‘To MR. JAMES ELPHINSTON.

[No date.]

‘DEAR SIR,

‘I cannot but confess the failures of my correspondence, but hope the same regard which you express for me on every other occasion, will incline you to forgive me. I am often, very often, ill; and, when I am well, am obliged to work: and, indeed, have never much used myself to punctuality. You are, however, not to make unkind inferences, when I forbear to reply to your kindness; for be assured, I never receive a letter from you without great pleasure, and a very warm sense of your generosity and friendship, which I heartily blame myself for not cultivating with more care. In this, as in many other cases, I go wrong, in opposition to conviction; for I think scarce any temporal good equally to be desired with the regard and familiarity of worthy men. I hope we shall be some time nearer to each other, and have a more ready way of pouring out our hearts.

‘I am glad that you still find encouragement to proceed in your publication, and shall beg the favour of six more volumes to add to my former six, when you can, with any convenience, send them me. Please to present a set, in my name, to Mr. Ruddiman[630], of whom, I hear, that his learning is not his highest excellence. I have transcribed the mottos, and returned them, I hope not too late, of which I think many very happily performed. Mr. Cave has put the last in the magazine[631], in which I think he did well. I beg of you to write soon, and to write often, and to write long letters, which I hope in time to repay you; but you must be a patient creditor. I have, however, this of gratitude, that I think of you with regard, when I do not, perhaps, give the proofs which I ought, of being, Sir,

‘Your most obliged and

‘Most humble servant.

SAM. JOHNSON.’

This year he wrote to the same gentleman another letter, upon a mournful occasion,

[Page 212: The death of a mother. A.D. 1750.]

‘To Mr. JAMES ELPHINSTON.

September 25, 1750.

‘DEAR SIR,

‘You have, as I find by every kind of evidence, lost an excellent mother; and I hope you will not think me incapable of partaking of your grief. I have a mother, now eighty-two years of age, whom, therefore, I must soon lose[632], unless it please GOD that she rather should mourn for me. I read the letters in which you relate your mother’s death to Mrs. Strahan[633], and think I do myself honour, when I tell you that I read them with tears; but tears are neither to _you_ nor to _me_ of any further use, when once the tribute of nature has been paid. The business of life summons us away from useless grief, and calls us to the exercise of those virtues of which we are lamenting our deprivation. The greatest benefit which one friend can confer upon another, is to guard, and excite, and elevate his virtues. This your mother will still perform, if you diligently preserve the memory of her life, and of her death: a life, so far as I can learn, useful, wise, and innocent; and a death resigned, peaceful, and holy. I cannot forbear to mention, that neither reason nor revelation denies you to hope, that you may increase her happiness by obeying her precepts; and that she may, in her present state, look with pleasure upon every act of virtue to which her instructions or example have contributed. Whether this be more than a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of separate spirits, is, indeed, of no great importance to us, when we consider ourselves as acting under the eye of GOD: yet, surely, there is something pleasing in the belief, that our separation from those whom we love is merely corporeal; and it may be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if it can be made probable, that that union that has received the divine approbation shall continue to eternity.

‘There is one expedient by which you may, in some degree, continue her presence. If you write down minutely what you remember of her from your earliest years, you will read it with great pleasure, and receive from it many hints of soothing recollection, when time shall remove her yet farther from you, and your grief shall be matured to veneration. To this, however painful for the present, I cannot but advise you, as to a source of comfort and satisfaction in the time to come; for all comfort and all satisfaction is sincerely wished you by, dear Sir,

‘Your most obliged, most obedient,

‘And most humble servant,

‘SAM. JOHNSON.’

[Page 213: Goldsmith’s debt to Johnson. AEtat 41.]

The _Rambler_ has increased in fame as in age. Soon after its first folio edition was concluded, it was published in six duodecimo volumes[634]; and its authour lived to see ten numerous editions of it in London, beside those of Ireland and Scotland[635].

I profess myself to have ever entertained a profound veneration for the astonishing force and vivacity of mind which the _Rambler_ exhibits. That Johnson had penetration enough to see, and seeing would not disguise the general misery of man in this state of being, may have given rise to the superficial notion of his being too stern a philosopher. But men of reflection will be sensible that he has given a true representation of human existence, and that he has, at the same time, with a generous benevolence displayed every consolation which our state affords us; not only those arising from the hopes of futurity, but such as may be attained in the immediate progress through life. He has not depressed the soul to despondency and indifference. He has every where inculcated study, labour, and exertion. Nay, he has shewn, in a very odious light, a man whose practice is to go about darkening the views of others, by perpetual complaints of evil, and awakening those considerations of danger and distress, which are, for the most part, lulled into a quiet oblivion. This he has done very strongly in his character of Suspirius[636], from which Goldsmith took that of Croaker, in his comedy of _The Good-Natured Man_[637], as Johnson told me he acknowledged to him, and which is, indeed, very obvious[638].

[Page 214: The Beauties of Dr. Johnson. A.D. 1750.]

To point out the numerous subjects which the _Rambler_ treats, with a dignity and perspicuity which are there united in a manner which we shall in vain look for any where else, would take up too large a portion of my book, and would, I trust, be superfluous, considering how universally those volumes are now disseminated. Even the most condensed and brilliant sentences which they contain, and which have very properly been selected under the name of _Beauties_[639], are of considerable bulk. But I may shortly observe, that the _Rambler_ furnishes such an assemblage of discourses on practical religion and moral duty, of critical investigations, and allegorical and oriental tales, that no mind can be thought very deficient that has, by constant study and meditation, assimilated to itself all that may be found there. No. 7, written in Passion-week on abstraction and self-examination[640], and No. 110, on penitence and the placability of the Divine Nature, cannot be too often read. No. 54, on the effect which the death of a friend should have upon us, though rather too dispiriting, may be occasionally very medicinal to the mind. Every one must suppose the writer to have been deeply impressed by a real scene; but he told me that was not the case; which shews how well his fancy could conduct him to the ‘house of mourning[641].’ Some of these more solemn papers, I doubt not, particularly attracted the notice of Dr. Young, the authour of _The Night Thoughts_, of whom my estimation is such, as to reckon his applause an honour even to Johnson. I have seen some volumes of Dr. Young’s copy of the _Rambler_, in which he has marked the passages which he thought particularly excellent, by folding down a corner of the page; and such as he rated in a super-eminent degree, are marked by double folds. I am sorry that some of the volumes are lost. Johnson was pleased when told of the minute attention with which Young had signified his approbation of his Essays.

[Page 215: A Club in Essex. AEtat 41.]

I will venture to say, that in no writings whatever can be found _more bark and steel for the mind_, if I may use the expression; more that can brace and invigorate every manly and noble sentiment. No. 32 on patience, even under extreme misery, is wonderfully lofty, and as much above the rant of stoicism, as the Sun of Revelation is brighter than the twilight of Pagan philosophy. I never read the following sentence without feeling my frame thrill: ‘I think there is some reason for questioning whether the body and mind are not so proportioned, that the one can bear all which can be inflicted on the other; whether virtue cannot stand its ground as long as life, and whether a soul well principled, will not be sooner separated than subdued[642].’

[Page 216: The character of Prospero. A.D. 1750.]

[Page 217: The Style of The Rambler. AEtat 41.]

Though instruction be the predominant purpose of the _Rambler_, yet it is enlivened with a considerable portion of amusement. Nothing can be more erroneous than the notion which some persons have entertained, that Johnson was then a retired authour, ignorant of the world; and, of consequence, that he wrote only from his imagination when he described characters and manners. He said to me, that before he wrote that work, he had been ‘running about the world,’ as he expressed it, more than almost any body; and I have heard him relate, with much satisfaction, that several of the characters in the _Rambler_ were drawn so naturally, that when it first circulated in numbers, a club in one of the towns in Essex imagined themselves to be severally exhibited in it, and were much incensed against a person who, they suspected, had thus made them objects of publick notice; nor were they quieted till authentick assurance was given them, that the _Rambler_ was written by a person who had never heard of any one of them[643]. Some of the characters are believed to have been actually drawn from the life, particularly that of Prospero from Garrick[644], who never entirely forgave its pointed satire[645]. For instances of fertility of fancy, and accurate description of real life, I appeal to No. 19, a man who wanders from one profession to another, with most plausible reasons for every change. No. 34, female fastidiousness and timorous refinement. No. 82, a Virtuoso who has collected curiosities. No. 88[646], petty modes of entertaining a company, and conciliating kindness. No. 182, fortune-hunting. No. 194-195, a tutor’s account of the follies of his pupil. No. 197-198, legacy-hunting. He has given a specimen of his nice observation of the mere external appearances of life, in the following passage in No. 179, against affectation, that frequent and most disgusting quality: ‘He that stands to contemplate the crouds that fill the streets of a populous city, will see many passengers whose air and motion it will be difficult to behold without contempt and laughter; but if he examine what are the appearances that thus powerfully excite his risibility, he will find among them neither poverty nor disease, nor any involuntary or painful defect. The disposition to derision and insult, is awakened by the softness of foppery, the swell of insolence, the liveliness of levity, or the solemnity of grandeur; by the sprightly trip, the stately stalk, the formal strut, and the lofty mien; by gestures intended to catch the eye, and by looks elaborately formed as evidences of importance.’

Every page of the _Rambler_ shews a mind teeming with classical allusion and poetical imagery: illustrations from other writers are, upon all occasions, so ready, and mingle so easily in his periods, that the whole appears of one uniform vivid texture.

[Page 218: Johnson’s masters in style. A.D. 1750.]

[Page 219: A Great Personage. AEtat 41.]

The style of this work has been censured by some shallow criticks as involved and turgid, and abounding with antiquated and hard words. So ill-founded is the first part of this objection, that I will challenge all who may honour this book with a perusal, to point out any English writer whose language conveys his meaning with equal force and perspicuity. It must, indeed, be allowed, that the structure of his sentences is expanded, and often has somewhat of the inversion of Latin; and that he delighted to express familiar thoughts in philosophical language; being in this the reverse of Socrates, who, it was said, reduced philosophy to the simplicity of common life. But let us attend to what he himself says in his concluding paper: ‘When common words were less pleasing to the ear, or less distinct in their signification, I have familiarised the terms of philosophy, by applying them to popular ideas[647].’ And, as to the second part of this objection, upon a late careful revision of the work, I can with confidence say, that it is amazing how few of those words, for which it has been unjustly characterised, are actually to be found in it; I am sure, not the proportion of one to each paper. This idle charge has been echoed from one babbler to another, who have confounded Johnson’s Essays with Johnson’s _Dictionary_; and because he thought it right in a Lexicon of our language to collect many words which had fallen into disuse, but were supported by great authorities, it has been imagined that all of these have been interwoven into his own compositions. That some of them have been adopted by him unnecessarily, may, perhaps, be allowed; but, in general they are evidently an advantage, for without them his stately ideas would be confined and cramped. ‘He that thinks with more extent than another, will want words of larger meaning[648].’ He once told me, that he had formed his style upon that of Sir William Temple[649], and upon Chambers’s Proposal for his _Dictionary_[650]. He certainly was mistaken; or if he imagined at first that he was imitating Temple, he was very unsuccessful; for nothing can be more unlike than the simplicity of Temple, and the richness of Johnson. Their styles differ as plain cloth and brocade. Temple, indeed, seems equally erroneous in supposing that he himself had formed his style upon Sandys’s _View of the State of Religion in the Western parts of the World_.

The style of Johnson was, undoubtedly, much formed upon that of the great writers in the last century, Hooker, Bacon, Sanderson, Hakewell, and others; those ‘GIANTS[651],’ as they were well characterised by A GREAT PERSONAGE[652], whose authority, were I to name him, would stamp a reverence on the opinion.

[Page 220: The motto to the Dictionary. A.D. 1750.]

We may, with the utmost propriety, apply to his learned style that passage of Horace, a part of which he has taken as the motto to his _Dictionary_[653]:

‘Cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti; Audebit quaecumque parum splendoris habebunt Et sine pondere erunt, et honore indigna ferentur, Verba movere loco, quamvis invita recedant, Et versentur adhuc intra penetralia Vesta. Obscurata diu populo bonus eruet, atque
Proferet in lucem speciosa vocabula rerum, Quae priscis memorala Calonibus alque Cethegis, Nunc situs informis premit et deserta velustas: Adsciscet nova, quae genitor produxerit usus: Vehemens, et liquidus, puroque simillimus amni, Fundet opes Latiumque beabit divile lingua.[654]’

[Page 221: Johnson not a coiner of words. AEtat 41.]

To so great a master of thinking, to one of such vast and various knowledge as Johnson, might have been allowed a liberal indulgence of that licence which Horace claims in another place:

‘Si forte necesse est
Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum, Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis
Continget, dabiturque licentia sumpta pudenter: Et nova fictaque nuper habebunt verba fidem si Graeco fonte cadant, parce detorta. Quid autem Caecilio Plautoque dabit Romanus, ademptum Virgilio Varioque? Ego cur, acquirere pauca Si possum, invideor; cum lingua Catonis et Enni Sermonem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum Nomina protulerit? Licuit semperque licebit Signatum praesente nota producere nomen[655].’

Yet Johnson assured me, that he had not taken upon him to add more than four or five words to the English language, of his own formation[656]; and he was very much offended at the general licence, by no means ‘modestly taken’ in his time, not only to coin new words, but to use many words in senses quite different from their established meaning, and those frequently very fantastical[657].

[Page 222: Johnson’s influence on style. A.D. 1750.]

Sir Thomas Brown[658], whose life Johnson wrote, was remarkably fond of Anglo-Latian diction; and to his example we are to ascribe Johnson’s sometimes indulging himself in this kind of phraseology’. Johnson’s comprehension of mind was the mould for his language. Had his conceptions been narrower, his expression would have been easier. His sentences have a dignified march; and, it is certain, that his example has given a general elevation to the language of his country, for many of our best writers have approached very near to him; and, from the influence which he has had upon our composition, scarcely any thing is written now that is not better expressed than was usual before he appeared to lead the national taste.

[Page 223: Courtenay’s lines on Johnson’s school. AEtat 41.]

This circumstance, the truth of which must strike every critical reader, has been so happily enforced by Mr. Courtenay, in his _Moral and Literary Character of Dr. Johnson_, that I cannot prevail on myself to withhold it, notwithstanding his, perhaps, too great partiality for one of his friends:

‘By nature’s gifts ordain’d mankind to rule, He, like a Titian, form’d his brilliant school; And taught congenial spirits to excel,
While from his lips impressive wisdom fell. Our boasted GOLDSMITH felt the sovereign sway: From him deriv’d the sweet, yet nervous lay. To Fame’s proud cliff he bade our Raphael rise; Hence REYNOLDS’ pen with REYNOLDS’ pencil vies. With Johnson’s flame melodious BURNEY glows, While the grand strain in smoother cadence flows. And you, MALONE, to critick learning dear. Correct and elegant, refin’d though clear, By studying him, acquir’d that classick taste, Which high in Shakspeare’s fane thy statue plac’d. Near Johnson STEEVENS stands, on scenick ground, Acute, laborious, fertile, and profound. Ingenious HAWKESWORTH to this school we owe. And scarce the pupil from the tutor know. Here early parts accomplish’d JONES sublimes, And science blends with Asia’s lofty rhymes: Harmonious JONES! who in his splendid strains Sings Camdeo’s sports, on Agra’s flowery plains: In Hindu fictions while we fondly trace
Love and the Muses, deck’d with Attick grace. Amid these names can BOSWELL be forgot,
Scarce by North Britons now esteem’d a Scot[659]? Who to the sage devoted from his youth,
Imbib’d from him the sacred love of truth; The keen research, the exercise of mind, And that best art, the art to know mankind.– Nor was his energy confin’d alone
To friends around his philosophick throne; _Its influence wide improv’d our letter’d isle. And lucid vigour marked the general style_: As Nile’s proud waves, swoln from their oozy bed. First o’er the neighbouring meads majestick spread; Till gathering force, they more and more expand. And with new virtue fertilise the land.’

Johnson’s language, however, must be allowed to be too masculine for the delicate gentleness of female writing. His ladies, therefore, seem strangely formal, even to ridicule; and are well denominated by the names which he has given them as Misella[660], Zozima, Properantia, Rhodoclia.

[Page 224: The styles of addison and Johnson. A.D. 1750.]

It has of late been the fashion to compare the style of Addison and Johnson, and to depreciate, I think very unjustly, the style of Addison as nerveless and feeble[661], because it has not the strength and energy of that of Johnson. Their prose may be balanced like the poetry of Dryden and Pope. Both are excellent, though in different ways. Addison writes with the ease of a gentleman. His readers fancy that a wise and accomplished companion is talking to them; so that he insinuates his sentiments and taste into their minds by an imperceptible influence. Johnson writes like a teacher. He dictates to his readers as if from an academical chair. They attend with awe and admiration; and his precepts are impressed upon them by his commanding eloquence. Addison’s style, like a light wine, pleases everybody from the first. Johnson’s, like a liquor of more body, seems too strong at first, but, by degrees, is highly relished; and such is the melody of his periods, so much do they captivate the ear, and seize upon the attention, that there is scarcely any writer, however inconsiderable, who does not aim, in some degree, at the same species of excellence. But let us not ungratefully undervalue that beautiful style, which has pleasingly conveyed to us much instruction and entertainment. Though comparatively weak, opposed to Johnson’s Herculean vigour, let us not call it positively feeble. Let us remember the character of his style, as given by Johnson himself[662]: ‘What he attempted, he performed; he is never feeble, and he did not wish to be energetick; he is never rapid, and he never stagnates. His sentences have neither studied amplitude, nor affected brevity: his periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy[663]. 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[664].’

[Page 225: Boswell’s projected works. AEtat 41.]

[Page 226: The last Rambler. A.D. 1750.]

Though the _Rambler_ was not concluded till the year 1752, I shall, under this year, say all that I have to observe upon it. Some of the translations of the mottos by himself are admirably done. He acknowledges to have received ‘elegant translations’ of many of them from Mr. James Elphinston; and some are very happily translated by a Mr. _F. Lewis_[665], of whom I never heard more, except that Johnson thus described him to Mr. Malone: ‘Sir, he lived in London, and hung loose upon society.’ The concluding paper of his _Rambler_ is at once dignified and pathetick. I cannot, however, but wish that he had not ended it with an unnecessary Greek verse, translated also into an English couplet[666]. It is too much like the conceit of those dramatick poets, who used to conclude each act with a rhyme; and the expression in the first line of his couplet, ‘_Celestial powers_’, though proper in Pagan poetry, is ill suited to Christianity, with ‘a conformity[667]’ to which he consoles himself. How much better would it have been, to have ended with the prose sentence ‘I shall never envy the honours which wit and learning obtain in any other cause, if I can be numbered among the writers who have given ardour to virtue, and confidence to truth[668].’

His friend, Dr. Birch, being now engaged in preparing an edition of Ralegh’s smaller pieces, Dr. Johnson wrote the following letter to that gentleman:

‘To DR. BIRCH.

‘Gough-square, May 12, 1750.

‘SIR,

‘Knowing that you are now preparing to favour the publick with a new edition of Ralegh’s[669] miscellaneous pieces, I have taken the liberty to send you a Manuscript, which fell by chance within my notice. I perceive no proofs of forgery in my examination of it; and the owner tells me, that as _he_[670] has heard, the handwriting is Sir Walter’s. If you should find reason to conclude it genuine, it will be a kindness to the owner, a blind person[671], to recommend it to the booksellers. I am, Sir,

‘Your most humble servant,

‘SAM. JOHNSON.’

[Page 227: Milton’s grand-daughter. AEtat 41.]

[Page 228: Lauder’s imposition. A.D. 1751.]

His just abhorrence of Milton’s political notions was ever strong. But this did not prevent his warm admiration of Milton’s great poetical merit, to which he has done illustrious justice, beyond all who have written upon the subject. And this year he not only wrote a Prologue, which was spoken by Mr. Garrick before the acting of _Comus_ at Drury-lane theatre, for the benefit of Milton’s grand-daughter, but took a very zealous interest in the success of the charity[672]. On the day preceding the performance, he published the following letter in the ‘General Advertiser,’ addressed to the printer of that paper:

‘SIR,

‘That a certain degree of reputation is acquired merely by approving the works of genius, and testifying a regard to the memory of authours, is a truth too evident to be denied; and therefore to ensure a participation of fame with a celebrated poet, many who would, perhaps, have contributed to starve him when alive, have heaped expensive pageants upon his grave[673].

‘It must, indeed, be confessed, that this method of becoming known to posterity with honour, is peculiar to the great, or at least to the wealthy; but an opportunity now offers for almost every individual to secure the praise of paying a just regard to the illustrious dead, united with the pleasure of doing good to the living. To assist industrious indigence, struggling with distress and debilitated by age, is a display of virtue, and an acquisition of happiness and honour.

‘Whoever, then, would be thought capable of pleasure in reading the works of our incomparable Milton, and not so destitute of gratitude as to refuse to lay out a trifle in rational and elegant entertainment, for the benefit of his living remains, for the exercise of their own virtue, the increase of their reputation, and the pleasing consciousness of doing good, should appear at Drury-lane theatre to-morrow, April 5, when _Comus_ will be performed for the benefit of Mrs. Elizabeth Foster, grand-daughter to the author, and the only surviving branch of his family.

‘N.B. There will be a new prologue on the occasion, written by the author of _Irene[674], and spoken by Mr. Garrick; and, by particular desire, there will be added to the Masque a dramatick satire, called _Lethe_, in which Mr. Garrick will perform.’

[Page 229: Douglas’s MILTON NO PLAGIARY. AEtat 42.]

1751: AETAT. 42.–In 1751[675] we are to consider him as carrying on both his _Dictionary_ and _Rambler_. But he also wrote _The Life of Cheynel_[676],[*] in the miscellany called _The Student_; and the Reverend Dr. Douglas having, with uncommon acuteness, clearly detected a gross forgery and imposition upon the publick by William Lauder, a Scotch schoolmaster, who had, with equal impudence and ingenuity, represented Milton as a plagiary from certain modern Latin poets, Johnson, who had been so far imposed upon as to furnish a Preface and Postscript to his work, now dictated a letter for Lauder, addressed to Dr. Douglas, acknowledging his fraud in terms of suitable contrition.[677]

[Page 230: Johnson tricked by Lander. A.D. 1751.]

This extraordinary attempt of Lauder was no sudden effort. He had brooded over it for many years: and to this hour it is uncertain what his principal motive was, unless it were a vain notion of his superiority, in being able, by whatever means, to deceive mankind. To effect this, he produced certain passages from Grotius, Masenius, and others, which had a faint resemblance to some parts of the _Paradise Lost_. In these he interpolated some fragments of Hog’s Latin translation of that poem, alledging that the mass thus fabricated was the archetype from which Milton copied.[678] These fabrications he published from time to time in the _Gentleman s Magazine_; and, exulting in his fancied success, he in 1750 ventured to collect them into a pamphlet, entitled _An Essay on Milton’s Use and Imitation of the Moderns in his Paradise Lost_. To this pamphlet Johnson wrote a Preface[679], in full persuasion of Lauder’s honesty, and a Postscript recommending, in the most persuasive terms[680], a subscription for the relief of a grand-daughter of Milton, of whom he thus speaks:

‘It is yet in the power of a great people to reward the poet whose name they boast, and from their alliance to whose genius, they claim some kind of superiority to every other nation of the earth; that poet, whose works may possibly be read when every other monument of British greatness shall be obliterated; to reward him, not with pictures or with medals, which, if he sees, he sees with contempt, but with tokens of gratitude, which he, perhaps, may even now consider as not unworthy the regard of an immortal spirit.’

[Page 231: Johnson’s admiration of Milton. AEtat 42.]

Surely this is inconsistent with ‘enmity towards Milton,’ which Sir John Hawkins[681] imputes to Johnson upon this occasion, adding,

‘I could all along observe that Johnson seemed to approve not only of the design, but of the argument; and seemed to exult in a persuasion, that the reputation of Milton was likely to suffer by this discovery. That he was not privy to the imposture, I am well persuaded; but that he wished well to the argument, may be inferred from the Preface, which indubitably was written by Johnson.’

Is it possible for any man of clear judgement to suppose that Johnson, who so nobly praised the poetical excellence of Milton in a Postscript to this very ‘discovery,’ as he then supposed it, could, at the same time, exult in a persuasion that the great poet’s reputation was likely to suffer by it? This is an inconsistency of which Johnson was incapable; nor can any thing more be fairly inferred from the Preface, than that Johnson, who was alike distinguished for ardent curiosity and love of truth, was pleased with an investigation by which both were gratified. That he was actuated by these motives, and certainly by no unworthy desire to depreciate our great epick poet, is evident from his own words; for, after mentioning the general zeal of men of genius and literature ‘to advance the honour, and distinguish the beauties of _Paradise Lost_’, he says,

‘Among the inquiries to which this ardour of criticism has naturally given occasion, none is more obscure in itself, or more worthy of rational curiosity, than a retrospect[682] of the progress of this mighty genius in the construction of his work; a view of the fabrick gradually rising, perhaps, from small beginnings, till its foundation rests in the centre, and its turrets sparkle in the skies; to trace back the structure through all its varieties, to the simplicity of its first plan; to find what was first projected, whence the scheme was taken, how it was improved, by what assistance it was executed, and from what stores the materials were collected; whether its founder dug them from the quarries of Nature, or demolished other buildings to embellish his own.’

Is this the language of one who wished to blast the laurels of Milton[683]?

[Page 232: Mrs. Anna Williams. A.D. 1751.]

Though Johnson’s circumstances were at this time far from being easy, his humane and charitable disposition was constantly exerting itself. Mrs. Anna Williams, daughter of a very ingenious Welsh physician, and a woman of more than ordinary talents and literature, having come to London in hopes of being cured of a cataract in both her eyes, which afterwards ended in total blindness, was kindly received as a constant visitor at his house while Mrs. Johnson lived; and after her death, having come under his roof in order to have an operation upon her eyes performed with more comfort to her than in lodgings, she had an apartment from him during the rest of her life, at all times when he had a house[684].

[Page 233: Johnson’s pleasure in her company. AEtat 43.]

[Page 234: Death of Johnson’s wife. A.D. 1752.]

1752: AETAT. 43.–In 1752 he was almost entirely occupied with his _Dictionary_. The last paper of his _Rambler_ was published March 2[685], this year; after which, there was a cessation for some time of any exertion of his talents as an essayist. But, in the same year, Dr. Hawkesworth, who was his warm admirer, and a studious imitator of his style[686], and then lived in great intimacy with him, began a periodical paper, entitled _The Adventurer_, in connection with other gentlemen, one of whom was Johnson’s much-loved friend, Dr. Bathurst; and, without doubt, they received many valuable hints from his conversation, most of his friends having been so assisted in the course of their works.

[Page 235: Communications by dreams. AEtat 43.]

That there should be a suspension of his literary labours during a part of the year 1752, will not seem strange, when it is considered that soon after closing his _Rambler_, he suffered a loss which, there can be no doubt, affected him with the deepest distress[687]. For on the 17th of March, O.S., his wife died. Why Sir John Hawkins should unwarrantably take upon him even to _suppose_ that Johnson’s fondness for her was _dissembled_ (meaning simulated or assumed,) and to assert, that if it was not the case, ‘it was a lesson he had learned by rote[688],’ I cannot conceive; unless it proceeded from a want of similar feelings in his own breast. To argue from her being much older than Johnson, or any other circumstances, that he could not really love her, is absurd; for love is not a subject of reasoning, but of feeling, and therefore there are no common principles upon which one can persuade another concerning it. Every man feels for himself, and knows how he is affected by particular qualities in the person he admires, the impressions of which are too minute and delicate to be substantiated in language.

The following very solemn and affecting prayer was found after Dr. Johnson’s decease, by his servant, Mr. Francis Barber, who delivered it to my worthy friend the Reverend Mr. Strahan[689], Vicar of Islington, who at my earnest request has obligingly favoured me with a copy of it, which he and I compared with the original. I present it to the world as an undoubted proof of a circumstance in the character of my illustrious friend, which though some whose hard minds I never shall envy, may attack as superstitious, will I am sure endear him more to numbers of good men[690]. I have an additional, and that a personal motive for presenting it, because it sanctions what I myself have always maintained and am fond to indulge.

‘April 26, 1752, being after 12 at Night of the 25th.

‘O Lord! Governour of heaven and earth, in whose hands are embodied and departed Spirits, if thou hast ordained the Souls of the Dead to minister to the Living, and appointed my departed Wife to have care of me, grant that I may enjoy the good effects of her attention and ministration, whether exercised by appearance, impulses, dreams[691] or in any other manner agreeable to thy Government. Forgive my presumption, enlighten my ignorance, and however meaner agents are employed, grant me the blessed influences of thy holy Spirit, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.’

[Page 236: Johnson’s love for his wife. A.D. 1752.]

What actually followed upon this most interesting piece of devotion by Johnson, we are not informed; but I, whom it has pleased GOD to afflict in a similar manner to that which occasioned it, have certain experience of benignant communication by dreams[692].

That his love for his wife was of the most ardent kind, and, during the long period of fifty years, was unimpaired by the lapse of time, is evident from various passages in the series of his _Prayers and Meditations_, published by the Reverend Mr. Strahan, as well as from other memorials, two of which I select, as strongly marking the tenderness and sensibility of his mind.

‘March 28, 1753. I kept this day[693] as the anniversary of my Tetty’s death[694], with prayer and tears in the morning. In the evening I prayed for her conditionally, if it were lawful.’

[Page 237: Her wedding-ring. AEtat 43.]

‘April 23, 1753. I know not whether I do not too much indulge the vain longings of affection; but I hope they intenerate my heart, and that when I die like my Tetty, this affection will be acknowledged in a happy interview, and that in the mean time I am incited by it to piety. I will, however, not deviate too much from common and received methods of devotion.’

Her wedding-ring, when she became his wife, was, after her death, preserved by him, as long as he lived, with an affectionate care, in a little round wooden box, in the inside of which he pasted a slip of paper, thus inscribed by him in fair characters, as follows:

‘Eheu!
Eliz. Johnson,
Nupta Jul. 9 deg. 1736,
Mortua, eheu!
Mart. 17 deg. 1752[695].

After his death, Mr. Francis Barber, his faithful servant and residuary legatee, offered this memorial of tenderness to Mrs. Lucy Porter, Mrs. Johnson’s daughter; but she having declined to accept of it, he had it enamelled as a mourning ring for his old master, and presented it to his wife, Mrs. Barber, who now has it.

The state of mind in which a man must be upon the death of a woman whom he sincerely loves, had been in his contemplation many years before. In his _Irene_, we find the following fervent and tender speech of Demetrius, addressed to his Aspasia:

‘From those bright regions of eternal day, Where now thou shin’st amongst thy fellow saints, Array’d in purer light, look down on me! In pleasing visions and delusive dreams, O! sooth my soul, and teach me how to lose thee[696].’

[Page 238: The shock of separation. A.D. 1752.]

I have, indeed, been told by Mrs. Desmoulins, who, before her marriage, lived for some time with Mrs. Johnson at Hampstead[697], that she indulged herself in country air and nice living, at an unsuitable expense[698], while her husband was drudging in the smoke of London, and that she by no means treated him with that complacency which is the most engaging quality in a wife. But all this is perfectly compatible with his fondness for her, especially when it is remembered that he had a high opinion of her understanding, and that the impressions which her beauty, real or imaginary, had originally made upon his fancy, being continued by habit, had not been effaced, though she herself was doubtless much altered for the worse. The dreadful shock of separation took place in the night; and he immediately dispatched a letter to his friend, the Reverend Dr. Taylor, which, as Taylor told me, expressed grief in the strongest manner he had ever read; so that it is much to be regretted it has not been preserved[699]. The letter was brought to Dr. Taylor, at his house in the Cloisters, Westminster, about three in the morning; and as it signified an earnest desire to see him, he got up, and went to Johnson as soon as he was dressed, and found him in tears and in extreme agitation. After being a little while together, Johnson requested him to join with him in prayer. He then prayed extempore, as did Dr. Taylor; and thus, by means of that piety which was ever his primary object, his troubled mind was, in some degree, soothed and composed.

The next day he wrote as follows:

‘To The Revernd Dr. Taylor.

Dear Sir,

‘Let me have your company and instruction. Do not live away from me. My distress is great.

‘Pray desire Mrs. Taylor to inform me what mourning I should buy for my mother and Miss Porter, and bring a note in writing with you.

‘Remember me in your prayers, for vain is the help of man.

‘I am, dear Sir, &c.

‘SAM. JOHNSON.’

‘March 18, 1752.’

[Page 239: Francis Barber. AEtat 43.]

[Page 240: Prayers for the dead. A.D. 1752.]

That his sufferings upon the death of his wife were severe, beyond what are commonly endured, I have no doubt, from the information of many who were then about him, to none of whom I give more credit than to Mr. Francis Barber, his faithful negro servant[700], who came into his family about a fortnight after the dismal event. These sufferings were aggravated by the melancholy inherent in his constitution; and although he probably was not oftener in the wrong than she was, in the little disagreements which sometimes troubled his married state[701], during which, he owned to me, that the gloomy irritability of his existence was more painful to him than ever, he might very naturally, after her death, be tenderly disposed to charge himself with slight omissions and offences, the sense of which would give him much uneasiness[702]. Accordingly we find, about a year after her decease, that he thus addressed the Supreme Being: ‘O LORD, who givest the grace of repentance, and hearest the prayers of the penitent, grant that by true contrition I may obtain forgiveness of all the sins committed, and of all duties neglected in my union with the wife whom thou hast taken from me; for the neglect of joint devotion, patient exhortation, and mild instruction[703].’ The kindness of his heart, notwithstanding the impetuosity of his temper, is well known to his friends; and I cannot trace the smallest foundation for the following dark and uncharitable assertion by Sir John Hawkins: ‘The apparition of his departed wife was altogether of the terrifick kind, and hardly afforded him a hope that she was in a state of happiness[704].’ That he, in conformity with the opinion of many of the most able, learned, and pious Christians in all ages, supposed that there was a middle state after death, previous to the time at which departed souls are finally received to eternal felicity, appears, I think, unquestionably from his devotions[705]: ‘And, O LORD, so far as it may be lawful in me[706], I commend to thy fatherly goodness _the soul of my departed wife_; beseeching thee to grant her whatever is best in her _present state_, and _finally to receive her to eternal happiness_[707].’ But this state has not been looked upon with horrour, but only as less gracious.

[Page 241: The funeral sermon on Mrs. Johnson. AEtat 43.]

He deposited the remains of Mrs. Johnson in the church of Bromley, in Kent[708], to which he was probably led by the residence of his friend Hawkesworth at that place. The funeral sermon which he composed for her, which was never preached, but having been given to Dr. Taylor, has been published since his death[709], is a performance of uncommon excellence, and full of rational and pious comfort to such as are depressed by that severe affliction which Johnson felt when he wrote it. When it is considered that it was written in such an agitation of mind, and in the short interval between her death and burial, it cannot be read without wonder[710].

From Mr. Francis Barber I have had the following authentick and artless account of the situation in which he found him recently after his wife’s death:

[Page 242: Johnson’s friends in 1752.]

He was in great affliction. Mrs. Williams was then living in his house, which was in Gough-square. He was busy with the Dictionary. Mr. Shiels, and some others of the gentlemen who had formerly written for him, used to come about him. He had then little for himself, but frequently sent money to Mr. Shiels when in distress[711]. The friends who visited him at that time, were chiefly Dr. Bathurst[712], and Mr. Diamond, an apothecary in Cork-street, Burlington-gardens, with whom he and Mrs. Williams generally dined every Sunday. There was a talk of his going to Iceland with him, which would probably have happened had he lived. There were also Mr. Cave, Dr. Hawkesworth, Mr. Ryland[713], merchant on Tower Hill, Mrs. Masters, the poetess[714], who lived with Mr. Cave, Mrs. Carter, and sometimes Mrs. Macaulay[715], also Mrs. Gardiner, wife of a tallow-chandler on Snow-hill, not in the learned way, but a worthy good woman[716]; Mr. (now Sir Joshua) Reynolds[717]; Mr. Millar, Mr. Dodsley, Mr. Bouquet, Mr. Payne of Paternoster-row, booksellers; Mr. Strahan, the printer; the Earl of Orrery[718], Lord Southwell[719], Mr. Garrick.

[Page 243: Robert Levet. AEtat 43.]

Many are, no doubt, omitted in this catalogue of his friends, and, in particular, his humble friend Mr. Robert Levet, an obscure practiser in physick amongst the lower people, his fees being sometimes very small sums, sometimes whatever provisions his patients could afford him; but of such extensive practice in that way, that Mrs. Williams has told me, his walk was from Hounsditch to Marybone. It appears from Johnson’s diary that their acquaintance commenced about the year 1746; and such was Johnson’s predilection for him, and fanciful estimation of his moderate abilities, that I have heard him say he should not be satisfied, though attended by all the College of Physicians, unless he had Mr. Levet with him. Ever since I was acquainted with Dr. Johnson, and many years before, as I have been assured by those who knew him earlier, Mr. Levet had an apartment in his house, or his chambers, and waited upon him every morning, through the whole course of his late and tedious breakfast. He was of a strange grotesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner, and seldom said a word while any company was present[720].

[Page 244: Sir Joshua Reynolds. A.D. 1752.]

[Page 245: One of ‘Dr. Johnson’s school.’ AEtat 43.]

The circle of his friends, indeed, at this time was extensive and various, far beyond what has been generally imagined. To trace his acquaintance with each particular person, if it could be done, would be a task, of which the labour would not be repaid by the advantage. But exceptions are to be made; one of which must be a friend so eminent as Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was truly his _dulce decus_[721], and with whom he maintained an uninterrupted intimacy to the last hour of his life. When Johnson lived in Castle-street, Cavendish-square, he used frequently to visit two ladies, who lived opposite to him, Miss Cotterells, daughters of Admiral Cotterell. Reynolds used also to visit there, and thus they met[722]. Mr. Reynolds, as I have observed above[723], had, from the first reading of his _Life of Savage_, conceived a very high admiration of Johnson’s powers of writing. His conversation no less delighted him; and he cultivated his acquaintance with the laudable zeal of one who was ambitious of general improvement[724]. Sir Joshua, indeed, was lucky enough at their very first meeting to make a remark, which was so much above the common-place style of conversation, that Johnson at once perceived that Reynolds had the habit of thinking for himself. The ladies were regretting the death of a friend, to whom they owed great obligations; upon which Reynolds observed, ‘You have, however, the comfort of being relieved from a burthen of gratitude[725].’ They were shocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, as too selfish; but Johnson defended it in his clear and forcible manner, and was much pleased with the _mind_, the fair view of human nature, which it exhibited, like some of the reflections of Rochefaucault. The consequence was, that he went home with Reynolds, and supped with him.

[Page 246: The Miss Cotterells. A.D. 1752.]

Sir Joshua told me a pleasant characteristical anecdote of Johnson about the time of their first acquaintance. When they were one evening together at the Miss Cotterells’, the then Duchess of Argyle and another lady of high rank came in. Johnson thinking that the Miss Cotterells were too much engrossed by them, and that he and his friend were neglected, as low company of whom they were somewhat ashamed, grew angry; and resolving to shock their supposed pride, by making their great visitors imagine that his friend and he were low indeed, he addressed himself in a loud tone to Mr. Reynolds, saying, ‘How much do you think you and I could get in a week, if we were to _work as hard_ as we could?’–as if they had been common mechanicks[726].

[Page 247: Bennet Langton. AEtat 43.]

His acquaintance with Bennet Langton, Esq. of Langton, in Lincolnshire, another much valued friend, commenced soon after the conclusion of his _Rambler_; which that gentleman, then a youth, had read with so much admiration, that he came to London chiefly with the view of endeavouring to be introduced to its authour[727]. By a fortunate chance he happened to take lodgings in a house where Mr. Levet frequently visited; and having mentioned his wish to his landlady, she introduced him to Mr. Levet, who readily obtained Johnson’s permission to bring Mr. Langton to him[728]; as, indeed, Johnson, during the whole course of his life, had no shyness, real or affected, but was easy of access to all who were properly recommended, and even wished to see numbers at his _levee_[729], as his morning circle of company might, with strict propriety, be called. Mr. Langton was exceedingly surprised when the sage first appeared. He had not received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or manner. From perusing his writings, he fancied he should see a decent, well-drest, in short, a remarkably decorous philosopher. Instead of which, down from his bedchamber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a huge uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. But his conversation was so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and political notions so congenial with those in which Langton had been educated, that he conceived for him that veneration and attachment which he ever preserved. Johnson was not the less ready to love Mr. Langton, for his being of a very ancient family; for I have heard him say, with pleasure, ‘Langton, Sir, has a grant of free warren from Henry the Second; and Cardinal Stephen Langton, in King John’s reign, was of this family[730].’

[Page 248: Topham Beauclerk. A.D. 1752.]

Mr. Langton afterwards went to pursue his studies at Trinity College, Oxford, where he formed an acquaintance with his fellow student, Mr. Topham Beauclerk[731]; who, though their opinions and modes of life were so different, that it seemed utterly improbable that they should at all agree, had so ardent a love of literature, so acute an understanding, such elegance of manners, and so well discerned the excellent qualities of Mr. Langton, a gentleman eminent not only for worth and learning, but for an inexhaustible fund of entertaining conversation[732], that they became intimate friends.

[Page 249: Topham Beauclerk. AEtat 43.]

Johnson, soon after this acquaintance began, passed a considerable time at Oxford[733]. He at first thought it strange that Langton should associate so much with one who had the character of being loose, both in his principles and practice; but, by degrees, he himself was fascinated. Mr. Beauclerk’s being of the St. Alban’s family, and having, in some particulars, a resemblance to Charles the Second, contributed, in Johnson’s imagination, to throw a lustre upon his other qualities[734]; and, in a short time, the moral, pious Johnson, and the gay, dissipated Beauclerk, were companions. ‘What a coalition! (said Garrick, when he heard of this;) I shall have my old friend to bail out of the Round-house[735].’ But I can bear testimony that it was a very agreeable association. Beauclerk was too polite, and valued learning and wit too much, to offend Johnson by sallies of infidelity or licentiousness; and Johnson delighted in the good qualities of Beauclerk, and hoped to correct the evil. Innumerable were the scenes in which Johnson was amused by these young men. Beauclerk could take more liberty with him, than any body with whom I ever saw him; but, on the other hand, Beauclerk was not spared by his respectable companion, when reproof was proper. Beauclerk had such a propensity to satire, that at one time Johnson said to him, ‘You never open your mouth but with intention to give pain; and you have often given me pain, not from the power of what you said, but from seeing your intention.’ At another time applying to him, with a slight alteration, a line of Pope, he said,

‘Thy love of folly, and thy scorn of fools.[736]

‘Every thing thou dost shews the one, and every thing thou say’st the other.’ At another time he said to him, ‘Thy body is all vice, and thy mind all virtue.’ Beauclerk not seeming to relish the compliment, Johnson said, ‘Nay, Sir, Alexander the Great, marching in triumph into Babylon, could not have desired to have had more said to him.’

[Page 250: Johnson the Idle Apprentice. A.D. 1752.]

Johnson was some time with Beauclerk at his house at Windsor, where he was entertained with experiments in natural philosophy[737]. One Sunday, when the weather was very fine, Beauclerk enticed him, insensibly, to saunter about all the morning. They went into a church-yard, in the time of divine service, and Johnson laid himself down at his ease upon one of the tomb-stones. ‘Now, Sir, (said Beauclerk) you are like Hogarth’s Idle Apprentice.’ When Johnson got his pension, Beauclerk said to him, in the humorous phrase of Falstaff, ‘I hope you’ll now purge and live cleanly like a gentleman[738].’

[Page 251: A frisk with Beuclerk and Langton. AEtat 44.]

One night when Beauclerk and Langton had supped at a tavern in London, and sat till about three in the morning, it came into their heads to go and knock up Johnson, and see if they could prevail on him to join them in a ramble. They rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the Temple, till at last he appeared in his shirt, with his little black wig on the top of his head, instead of a nightcap, and a poker in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruffians were coming to attack him. When he discovered who they were, and was told their errand, he smiled, and with great good humour agreed to their proposal: ‘What, is it you, you dogs! I’ll have a frisk with you.’ He was soon drest, and they sallied forth together into Covent-Garden, where the greengrocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their hampers, just come in from the country. Johnson made some attempts to help them; but the honest gardeners stared so at his figure and manner, and odd interference, that he soon saw his services were not relished. They then repaired to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of that liquor called “_Bishop_”[739], which Johnson had always liked; while in joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, he repeated the festive lines,

‘Short, O short then be thy reign,
And give us to the world again!'[740]

They did not stay long, but walked down to the Thames, took a boat, and rowed to Billingsgate. Beauclerk and Johnson were so well pleased with their amusement, that they resolved to persevere in dissipation for the rest of the day: but Langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast with some young Ladies. Johnson scolded him for ‘leaving his social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched _un-idea’d_ girls.’ Garrick being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, ‘I heard of your frolick t’other night. You’ll be in the Chronicle.’ Upon which Johnson afterwards observed, ‘_He_ durst not do such a thing. His _wife_ would not _let_ him!’

[Page 252: The Adventurer. A.D. 1753.]

1753: AETAT. 44.–He entered upon this year 1753 with his usual piety, as appears from the following prayer, which I transcribed from that part of his diary which he burnt a few days before his death[741]:

‘Jan. 1, 1753, N. S. which I shall use for the future.

‘Almighty God, who hast continued my life to this day, grant that, by the assistance of thy Holy Spirit, I may improve the time which thou shall grant me, to my eternal salvation. Make me to remember, to thy glory, thy judgements and thy mercies. Make me so to consider the loss of my wife, whom thou hast taken from me, that it may dispose me, by thy grace, to lead the residue of my life in thy fear. Grant this, O LORD, for JESUS CHRIST’S sake. Amen.’

He now relieved the drudgery of his _Dictionary_, and the melancholy of his grief, by taking an active part in the composition of _The Adventurer_, in which he began to write April 10[742], marking his essays with the signature T[743], by which most of his papers in that collection are distinguished: those, however, which have that signature and also that of _Mysargyrus_, were not written by him, but, as I suppose, by Dr. Bathurst. Indeed Johnson’s energy of thought and richness of language, are still more decisive marks than any signature. As a proof of this, my readers, I imagine, will not doubt that Number 39, on sleep, is his; for it not only has the general texture and colour of his style, but the authours with whom he was peculiarly conversant are readily introduced in it in cursory allusion. The translation of a passage in Statius[744] quoted in that paper, and marked C. B. has been erroneously ascribed to Dr. Bathurst, whose Christian name was Richard. How much this amiable man actually contributed to _The Adventurer_, cannot be known. Let me add, that Hawkesworth’s imitations of Johnson are sometimes so happy, that it is extremely difficult to distinguish them, with certainty, from the compositions of his great archetype. Hawkesworth was his closest imitator, a circumstance of which that writer would once have been proud to be told; though, when he had become elated by having risen into some degree of consequence, he, in a conversation with me, had the provoking effrontery to say he was not sensible of it[745].

[Page 253: A letter to Dr. Warton. AEtat 44.]

Johnson was truly zealous for the success of _The Adventurer_; and very soon after his engaging in it, he wrote the following letter:

‘TO THE REVEREND DR. JOSEPH WARTON.

‘DEAR SIR,

‘I ought to have written to you before now, but I ought to do many things which I do not; nor can I, indeed, claim any merit from this letter; for being desired by the authours and proprietor of _The Adventurer_ to look out for another hand, my thoughts necessarily fixed upon you, whose fund of literature will enable you to assist them, with very little interruption of your studies.

‘They desire you to engage to furnish one paper a month, at two guineas a paper, which you may very readily perform. We have considered that a paper should consist of pieces of imagination, pictures of life, and disquisitions of literature. The part which depends on the imagination is very well supplied, as you will find when you read the paper; for descriptions of life, there is now a treaty almost made with an authour and an authouress; and the province of criticism and literature they are very desirous to assign to the commentator on Virgil.

‘I hope this proposal will not be rejected, and that the next post will bring us your compliance. I speak as one of the fraternity, though I have no part in the paper, beyond now and then a motto; but two of the writers are my particular friends, and I hope the pleasure of seeing a third united to them, will not be denied to, dear Sir,

‘Your most obedient,

‘And most humble servant,

‘SAM. JOHNSON.’

‘March 8, 1753.’

The consequence of this letter was, Dr. Warton’s enriching the collection with several admirable essays.

[Page 254: Bathurst’s papers in the Adventurer. A.D. 1753.]

Johnson’s saying ‘I have no part in the paper beyond now and then a motto,’ may seem inconsistent with his being the authour of the papers marked T. But he had, at this time, written only one number[746]; and besides, even at any after period, he might have used the same expression, considering it as a point of honour not to own them; for Mrs. Williams told me that, ‘as he had _given_ those Essays to Dr. Bathurst, who sold them at two guineas each, he never would own them; nay, he used to say he did not _write_ them: but the fact was, that he _dictated_ them, while Bathurst wrote.’ I read to him Mrs. Williams’s account; he smiled, and said nothing[747].

[Page 255: Mrs. Lennox. AEtat 45.]

I am not quite satisfied with the casuistry by which the productions of one person are thus passed upon the world for the productions of another. I allow that not only knowledge, but powers and qualities of mind may be communicated; but the actual effect of individual exertion never can be transferred, with truth, to any other than its own original cause. One person’s child may be made the child of another person by adoption, as among the Romans, or by the ancient Jewish mode of a wife having children born to her upon her knees, by her handmaid. But these were children in a different sense from that of nature. It was clearly understood that they were not of the blood of their nominal parents. So in literary children, an authour may give the profits and fame of his composition to another man, but cannot make that other the real authour. A Highland gentleman, a younger branch of a family, once consulted me if he could not validly purchase the Chieftainship of his family, from the Chief who was willing to sell it. I told him it was impossible for him to acquire, by purchase, a right to be a different person from what he really was; for that the right of Chieftainship attached to the blood of primogeniture, and, therefore, was incapable of being transferred. I added, that though Esau sold his birth-right, or the advantages belonging to it, he still remained the first-born of his parents; and that whatever agreement a Chief might make with any of the clan, the Herald’s Office could not admit of the metamorphosis, or with any decency attest that the younger was the elder; but I did not convince the worthy gentleman.

Johnson’s papers in _The Adventurer_ are very similar to those of _The Rambler_; but being rather more varied in their subjects, and being mixed with essays by other writers, upon topicks more generally attractive than even the most elegant ethical discourses, the sale of the work, at first, was more extensive. Without meaning, however, to depreciate _The Adventurer_, I must observe that as the value of _The Rambler_ came, in the progress of time, to be better known, it grew upon the publick estimation, and that its sale has far exceeded that of any other periodical papers since the reign of Queen Anne.

In one of the books of his diary I find the following entry:

‘Apr. 3, 1753. I began the second vol. of my Dictionary, room being left in the first for Preface, Grammar, and History, none of them yet begun.

‘O GOD, who hast hitherto supported me, enable me to proceed in this labour, and in the whole task of my present state; that when I shall render up, at the last day, an account of the talent committed to me, I may receive pardon, for the sake of JESUS CHRIST. Amen.’

He this year favoured Mrs. Lennox[748] with a Dedication[*] to the Earl of Orrery, of her _Shakspeare Illustrated_.

[Page 256: The Life of Edward Cave. A.D. 1754.]

1754: AETAT. 45.–IN 1754 I can trace nothing published by him, except his numbers of _The Adventurer_, and ‘The Life of Edward Cave,'[*] in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_ for February. In biography there can be no question that he excelled, beyond all who have attempted that species of composition; upon which, indeed, he set the highest value. To the minute selection of characteristical circumstances, for which the ancients were remarkable, he added a philosophical research, and the most perspicuous and energetick language. Cave was certainly a man of estimable qualities, and was eminently diligent and successful in his own business[749], which, doubtless, entitled him to respect. But he was peculiarly fortunate in being recorded by Johnson, who, of the narrow life of a printer and publisher, without any digressions or adventitious circumstances, has made an interesting and agreeable narrative[750].

The _Dictionary_, we may believe, afforded Johnson full occupation this year. As it approached to its conclusion, he probably worked with redoubled vigour, as seamen increase their exertion and alacrity when they have a near prospect of their haven.

[Page 257: Lord Chesterfield’s neglect.]

[Page 258: Lord Chesterfield’s flattery. A.D. 1754.]

Lord Chesterfield, to whom Johnson had paid the high compliment of addressing to his Lordship the _Plan_ of his _Dictionary_, had behaved to him in such a manner as to excite his contempt and indignation. The world has been for many years amused with a story confidently told, and as confidently repeated with additional circumstances[751], that a sudden disgust was taken by Johnson upon occasion of his having been one day kept long in waiting in his Lordship’s antechamber, for which the reason assigned was, that he had company with him; and that at last, when the door opened, out walked Colley Gibber; and that Johnson was so violently provoked when he found for whom he had been so long excluded, that he went away in a passion, and never would return. I remember having mentioned this story to George Lord Lyttelton, who told me, he was very intimate with Lord Chesterfield; and holding it as a well-known truth, defended Lord Chesterfield, by saying, that ‘Gibber, who had been introduced, familiarly by the back-stairs, had probably not been there above ten minutes.’ It may seem strange even to entertain a doubt concerning a story so long and so widely current, and thus implicitly adopted, if not sanctioned, by the authority which I have mentioned; but Johnson himself assured me, that there was not the least foundation for it. He told me, that there never was any particular incident which produced a quarrel between Lord Chesterfield and him; but that his Lordship’s continued neglect was the reason why he resolved to have no connection with him[752]. When the _Dictionary_ was upon the eve of publication, Lord Chesterfield, who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that Johnson would dedicate the work to him[753], attempted, in a courtly manner, to sooth, and insinuate himself with the Sage, conscious, as it should seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated its learned authour; and further attempted to conciliate him, by writing two papers in _The World_[754], in recommendation of the work; and it must be confessed, that they contain some studied compliments, so finely turned, that if there had been no previous offence, it is probable that Johnson would have been highly delighted[755]. Praise, in general, was pleasing to him; but by praise from a man of rank and elegant accomplishments, he was peculiarly gratified.

His Lordship says,

‘I think the publick in general, and the republick of letters in particular, are greatly obliged to Mr. Johnson, for having undertaken, and executed, so great and desirable a work. Perfection is not to be expected from man; but if we are to judge by the various works of Johnson[756] already published, we have good reason to believe, that he will bring this as near to perfection as any man could do. The _Plan_ of it, which he published some years ago, seems to me to be a proof of it. Nothing can be more rationally imagined, or more accurately and elegantly expressed. I therefore recommend the previous perusal of it to all those who intend to buy the _Dictionary,_ and who, I suppose, are all those who can afford it.’

* * * * *

‘It must be owned, that our language is, at present, in a state of anarchy, and hitherto, perhaps, it may not have been the worse for it. During our free and open trade, many words and expressions have been imported, adopted, and naturalized from other languages, which have greatly enriched our own. Let it still preserve what real strength and beauty it may have borrowed from others; but let it not, like the Tarpeian maid, be overwhelmed and crushed by unnecessary ornaments[757]. The time for discrimination seems to be now come.

[Page 259: Lord Chesterfield’s flattery. AEtat 45.]

‘Toleration, adoption, and naturalization have run their lengths. Good order and authority are now necessary. But where shall we find them, and, at the same time, the obedience due to them? We must have recourse to the old Roman expedient in times of confusion, and chuse a dictator. Upon this principle, I give my vote for Mr. Johnson to fill that great and arduous post. And I hereby declare, that I make a total surrender of all my rights and privileges in the English language, as a free-born British subject, to the said Mr. Johnson, during the term of his dictatorship. Nay more, I will not only obey him, like an old Roman, as my dictator, but, like a modern Roman, I will implicitly believe in him as my Pope, and hold him to be infallible while in the chair, but no longer. More than this he cannot well require; for, I presume, that obedience can never be expected, when there is neither terrour to enforce, nor interest to invite it.’

* * * * *

‘But a Grammar, a Dictionary, and a History of our Language through its several stages, were still wanting at home, and importunately called for from abroad. Mr. Johnson’s labours will now, I dare say[758], very fully supply that want, and greatly contribute to the farther spreading of our language in other countries. Learners were discouraged, by finding no standard to resort to; and, consequently, thought it incapable of any. They will now be undeceived and encouraged.’

This courtly device failed of its effect[759]. Johnson, who thought that ‘all was false and hollow[760],’ despised the honeyed words, and was even indignant that Lord Chesterfield should, for a moment, imagine that he could be the dupe of such an artifice. His expression to me concerning Lord Chesterfield, upon this occasion, was, ‘Sir, after making great professions[761], he had, for many years, taken no notice of me; but when my _Dictionary_ was coming out, he fell a scribbling in _The World_ about it. Upon which, I wrote him a letter expressed in civil terms, but such as might shew him that I did not mind what he said or wrote, and that I had done with him[762].’

[Page 260: Johnson’s spelling. A.D. 1754.]

This is that celebrated letter of which so much has been said, and about which curiosity has been so long excited, without being gratified. I for many years solicited Johnson to favour me with a copy of it[763], that so excellent a composition might not be lost to posterity. He delayed from time to time to give it me[764]; till at last in 1781, when we were on a visit at Mr. Dilly’s, at Southill in Bedfordshire, he was pleased to dictate it to me from memory[765]. He afterwards found among his papers a copy of it, which he had dictated to Mr. Baretti, with its title and corrections, in his own handwriting. This he gave to Mr. Langton; adding that if it were to come into print, he wished it to be from that copy. By Mr. Langton’s kindness, I am enabled to enrich my work with a perfect transcript[766] of what the world has so eagerly desired to see.

[Page 261: Johnson’s letter to Lord Chesterfield. AEtat 45.]

‘TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE EARL OF CHESTERFIELD.

‘February 7, 1755.

‘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_[767];–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 had 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[768], 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[769]; 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.

[Page 263: His high opinion of Warburton. AEtat 45.]

‘Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning[770], 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[771].’

‘While this was the talk of the town, (says Dr. Adams, in a letter to me) I happened to visit Dr. Warburton, who finding that I was acquainted with Johnson, desired me earnestly to carry his compliments to him, and to tell him, that he honoured him for his manly behaviour in rejecting these condescensions of Lord Chesterfield, and for resenting the treatment he had received from him, with a proper spirit. Johnson was visibly pleased with this compliment, for he had always a high opinion of Warburton[772]. Indeed, the force of mind which appeared in this letter, was congenial with that which Warburton himself amply possessed[773].’

[Page 264: For ‘garret’ read ‘patron.’ A.D. 1754.]

There is a curious minute circumstance which struck me, in comparing the various editions of Johnson’s imitations of Juvenal. In the tenth Satire, one of the couplets upon the vanity of wishes even for literary distinction stood thus:

‘Yet think[774] what ills the scholar’s life assail, ‘Pride[775], envy, want, the _garret_, and the jail.’

But after experiencing the uneasiness which Lord Chesterfield’s fallacious patronage made him feel, he dismissed the word _garret_ from the sad group, and in all the subsequent editions the line stands

‘Pride, envy, want, the _Patron_[776], and the jail.’

[Page 265: Defensive pride. AEtat 45.]

That Lord Chesterfield must have been mortified by the lofty contempt, and polite, yet keen satire with which Johnson exhibited him to himself in this letter, it is impossible to doubt. He, however, with that glossy duplicity which was his constant study, affected to be quite unconcerned. Dr. Adams mentioned to Mr. Robert Dodsley that he was sorry Johnson had written his letter to Lord Chesterfield. Dodsley, with the true feelings of trade, said ‘he was very sorry too; for that he had a property in the _Dictionary_, to which his Lordship’s patronage might have been of consequence.’ He then told Dr. Adams, that Lord Chesterfield had shewn him the letter. ‘I should have imagined (replied Dr. Adams) that Lord Chesterfield would have concealed it.’ ‘Poh! (said Dodsley) do you think a letter from Johnson could hurt Lord Chesterfield? Not at all, Sir. It lay upon his table, where any body might see it. He read it to me; said, “this man has great powers,” pointed out the severest passages, and observed how well they were expressed.’ This air of indifference, which imposed upon the worthy Dodsley, was certainly nothing but a specimen of that dissimulation which Lord Chesterfield inculcated as one of the most essential lessons for the conduct of life[777]. His Lordship endeavoured to justify himself to Dodsley from the charges brought against him by Johnson; but we may judge of the flimsiness of his defence, from his having excused his neglect of Johnson, by saying that ‘he had heard he had changed his lodgings, and did not know where he lived;’ as if there could have been the smallest difficulty to inform himself of that circumstance, by inquiring in the literary circle with which his Lordship was well acquainted, and was, indeed, himself one of its ornaments.

Dr. Adams expostulated with Johnson, and suggested, that his not being admitted when he called on him, was, probably, not to be imputed to Lord Chesterfield; for his Lordship had declared to Dodsley, that ‘he would have turned off the best servant he ever had, if he had known that he denied him to a man who would have been always more than welcome;’ and, in confirmation of this, he insisted on Lord Chesterfield’s general affability and easiness of access, especially to literary men. ‘Sir,