Let muckworms, who in dirty acres deal, The reputation of Churchill was also an aërial structure. 'No English poet,' says Southey, had ever enjoyed so excessive and so short-lived a popularity; and indeed no one seems more thoroughly to have understood his own powers; there is no indication in any of his pieces that he could have done anything better than the thing he did. To Wilkes he said that nothing came out till he began to be pleased with it himself; but, to the public, he boasted of the haste and carelessness with which his verses were poured forth. Had I the power, I could not have the time, A plan, to methodise each thought, each line, In itself charming, take new charms from place. Popularity which is easily gained, is lost as easily; such reputations resembling the lives of insects, whose shortness of existence is compensated by its proportion of enjoyment. He perhaps imagined that his genius would preserve his subjects, as spices preserve a mummy, and that the individuals whom he had eulogised or stigmatised would go down to posterity in his verse, as an old admiral comes home from the West Indies in a puncheon of rum : he did not consider that the rum is rendered loathsome, and that the spices with which the Pharaohs and Potiphars were embalmed, wasted their sweetness in the catacombs. But, in this part of his conduct, there was no want of worldly prudence: he was enriching himself by hasty writings, for which the immediate sale was in proportion to the bitterness and personality of the satire. DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON. In massive force of understanding, multifarious knowledge, sagacity, and moral intrepidity, no writer of the eighteenth century surpassed Dr. SAMUEL JOHNSON.. His various works, with their sententious morality and high-sounding sonorous periods-his manly character and appearance-his great virtues and strong prejudiceshis early and severe struggles, illustrating his own noble verse Slow rises worth by poverty depressed his love of argument and society, into which he poured the treasures of a rich and full mind-his wit, repartee, and brow-beating-his rough manners and kind heart-his curious household, in which were congregated the lame, blind, and despised-his very looks, gesticulation, and dress-have all been brought so vividly before us by his biographer, Boswell, that to readers of every class Johnson is as well known as any member of their own family. His heavy form seems still to haunt Fleet Street and the Strand, and he has stamped his memory on the remote islands of the Hebrides. In literature, his influence has been scarcely less extensive. No prose writer of that day escaped the contagion of his peculiar style. He banished for a long period the naked simplicity of Swift, and the idiomatic graces of Addison; he depressed the literature and poetry of imagination, while he elevated that of the understanding; he based criticism on strong sense and solid judgment, not on scholastic subtleties and refinement; and though some of the higher qualities and attributes of genius eluded his grasp and observation, the withering scorn and invective with which he assailed all affected sentimentalism, immorality, and licentiousness, introduced a pure and healthful and invigorating atmosphere into the crowded walks of literature. These are solid and substantial benefits which should weigh down errors of taste or the caprices of a temperament constitutionally prone to melancholy and disease, and which was little sweetened by prosperity or applause at that period of life when the habits are formed and the manners become permanent. As a man, Johnson was an admirable representative of the Englishmanas an author, his course was singularly pure, high-minded, and independent. He could boast with more truth than Burke, that he had no arts but manly arts.' At every step in his progress, his passport was talent and virtue; and when the royal countenance and favour were at length extended to him, it was but a ratification by the sovereign of the wishes and opinions entertained by the best and wisest of the nation. Johnson was born at Lichfield, September 18, 1709. His father was a bookseller. In his nineteenth year, he was placed at Pembroke College, Oxford. Misfortunes in trade happened to the elder Johnson, and Samuel was compelled to leave the university without a degree. He had been only fourteen months at Oxford, but during that time had distinguished himself by translating Pope's Messiah' into Latin verse. He was a short time usher in a school at Market Bosworth; but marrying a widow, Mrs. Porter-who was in her forty-eighth year (Johnson himself was twenty-seven)-he set up a private academy at Edial, near his native city. He had only three pupils, one of whom was David Garrick. After an unsuccessful career of a year and a half, Johnson went to London, accompanied by Garrick. He had written part of his tragedy of 'Irene,' hoping to get it brought on the stage, but it was refused. He now commenced author by profession, contributing essays, reviews, &c. to the 'Gentleman's Magazine.' He also wrote for the magazine a monthly account of the proceedings in parliament, under the title of ' Reports of the Debates of the Senate of Lilliput.' Notes of the speeches were furnished to him, and he extended them in his own peculiar, grandiloquent style (which was early formed), taking care, as he said, that the Whig dogs should not have the best of it.' He was himself a determined Tory. In 1738 appeared his poem of London,' in imitation of the third satire of Juvenal, for which Dodsley gave him ten guincas It instantly became popular, and a second edition was called for within a week. The author's name was not prefixed to the work. Pope made inquiries after the author, saying such a man would soon be known, and recommended Johnson to Lord Gower, who would have obtained for the poor poet the mastership of a grammar-school in Leicestershire, had not the academical degree of M. A. been indispensable, and this Johnson could not procure. He struggled on, writing task-work for Cave, the proprietor of the Gentleman's Magazine,' and in 1744 published the Life of Savage,' who had died the previous year. This admirable specimen of biography was also published anonymously, but it was known to be Johnson's, and his reputation continued to advance, so that the chief booksellers in London engaged him to prepare a 'Dictionary of the English Language,' for which he was to receive 1500 guineas. The prospectus of the Dictionary' was addressed to Lord Chesterfield, who acknowledged the honour by awarding Johnson a honorarium of ten guineas. Seven years and more clapsed before the 'Dictionary' was completed, and when it was on the eve of publication, Chesterfield-hoping, as Johnson believed, that the work might be dedicated to him-wrote two papers in the periodical called the 'World' in recommendation of the plan of the Dictionary.' Johnson thought all was false and hollow, and penned an indignant letter to the earl. He did Chesterfield injustice in the affair, as from a collation of the facts and circumstances is now apparent; but as a keen and dignified expression of wounded pride and surly independence, the composition is inimitable: Letter to Lord Chesterfield. February 7, 1755. 6 MY LORD-I have been lately informed by the proprietor of the World,' that two papers, in which my Dictionary' is recommended to the public, were written by your lordship. To be so distinguished is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your lordship, I was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre -that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending; but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your lordship in public, 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 passed since I waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time I have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. Such treatment I did not expect, for I never had a patron before. The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks. Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it; till I am known, and do not want it. I hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron which Providence has enabled me to do for myself. Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for I have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which I once boasted myself with so much exultation, my lord-Your lordship's most humble, SAM. JOHNSON. most obedient servant. While his 'Dictionary' was in progress, Johnson sought relaxation as well as pecuniary help from other tasks. In 1748 he published 'The Vanity of Human Wishes,' an imitation of the tenth satire of Juvenal, for which he received fifteen guineas. Next year Garrick brought out Irene,' and though not successful, by good management the representation realised £195, 17s. besides £100 from Dodsley for the copyright of the play. The subsequent works of Johnson (to be afterwards noticed in this section) were the Rambler,' 1750-52, the 'Idler,' 1758-60, and, in 1759, the tale of 'Rasselas.' The last was written to pay some small debts, and defray the funeral expenses of his mother, who had died at the age of ninety. For this moral tale so piously undertaken, Johnson received £100, with £25 afterwards for a second edition. In 1762 a new and brighter era commenced—a pension of £300 was settled upon Johnson, chiefly through the influence of Lord Bute, then the all-potent minister, and ever afterwards the life of the great moralist was free from the corroding anxieties of poverty. In 1761 the Literary Club was established, including Burke, Reynolds, Goldsmith, Gibbon, Garrick, Murphy, and others; and in this enlightened and popular resort Johnson reigned supreme, the most brilliant conversationalist of his age. In 1765 appeared, after many years' promises and delays, his edition of Shakspeare, about which, he said, he felt no solicitude, and the public was nearly as indifferent. It contained proofs of his acuteness and insight into human nature, but was a careless and unsatisfactory piece of editorial work. Made easy by his pension and writings, Johnson undertook, in the autumn of 1773, his celebrated journey to the Hebrides, in company with Boswell. It was certainly a remarkable undertaking for a man of sixty-four, heavy, near-sighted, somewhat deaf, full of English prejudices, and who preferred Fleet Street to all the charms of Arcadia. He had to perform great part of the journey on horseback, travelling over mountains and bogs, and to cross stormy firths and arms of the sea in open boats. But Johnson had a stout heart, and accompanied by his faithful squire, was willing to encounter all dangers. His narrative of his travels, published in 1775, is one of his most interesting works, but unquestionably the most valuable of all is his last work, the 'Lives of the Poets,' prefixed as prefaces to an edition of the English poets, 1779-81. For this work Johnson received three hundred guineasone hundred more than he had stipulated for, but Malone says the booksellers made five or six thousand pounds by the undertaking. The Tory predilections of Johnson, heightened by the recollection of his pension, induced him in his latter days to embark on the troubled sea of party politics, and he wrote two pamphlets in defence of the ministry and against the claims of the Americans, but they are unworthy of his reputation. His work was now done. His health had always been precarious. He had from his birth been afflicted with a scrofulous taint, and all his life he was a prey to constitutional melancholy (often on the verge of insanity), and had a horror of death. While he was an inmate in the family of Mr. Thrale, the opulent brewer, the agreeable society he met there, and especially the conversation and attentions of Mrs. Thrale (afterwards Mrs. Piozzi), soothed and delighted him; but after this connection was rudely broken up, Johnson's residence in Bolt Court was but a sad and gloomy residence. The end, however, was peace. He wished, he said, to meet his God with an unclouded mind, and his prayer was heard. He Ulied in a serene and happy frame of mind on the 13th of December, 1784. ་ The poetry of Johnson forms but a small portion of the history of his mind or of his works. His imitations of Juvenal are, however, among the best imitations of a classic author which we possess; and Gray has pronounced an opinion, that London'-the first in time, and by far the inferior of the two- has all the ease and all the spirit of an original.' In The Vanity of Human Wishes,' Johnson departs more from his original, and takes wider views of human nature, society, and manners. His pictures of Wolsey and Charles of Sweden have a strength and magnificence that would do honour to Dryden, while the historical and philosophic paintings are contrasted by reflections on the cares, vicissitudes, and sorrows of life, so profound, so true and touching, that they may justly be denominated mottoes of the heart." Sir Walter Scott has termed this poem 'a satire, the deep and pathetic morality of which has often extracted tears from those whose eyes wander dry over pages professedly sentimental.' Johnson was too prone to indulge in dark and melancholy views of human life; yet those who have experienced its disappointments and afflictions, must subscribe to the severe morality and pathos with which the contemplative poet 6 Expatiates free o'er all this scene of man. |