and of slovenly Aspect. I recall him to have worn a bushy Bob-Wig,
untyed and without Powder, and much too small for his Head. His Cloaths
were of rusty brown, much wrinkled, and with more than one Button
missing. His Face, too full to be handsom, was likewise marred by the
Effects of some scrofulous Disorder; and his Head was continually
rolling about in a sort of convulsive way. Of this Infirmity, indeed, I
had known before; having heard of it from Mr. =Pope=, who took the
Trouble to make particular Inquiries.
Being nearly seventy-three, full nineteen Years older than Dr.
=Johnson=, (I say Doctor, tho' his Degree came not till two Years
afterward) I naturally expected him to have some Regard for my Age; and
was therefore not in that Fear of him, which others confess'd. On my
asking him what he thought of my favourable Notice of his Dictionary in
=The Londoner=, my periodical Paper, he said: "Sir, I possess no
Recollection of having perus'd your Paper, and have not a great Interest
in the Opinions of the less thoughtful Part of Mankind." Being more than
a little piqued at the Incivility of one whose Celebrity made me
solicitous of his Approbation, I ventur'd to retaliate in kind, and told
him, I was surpris'd that a Man of Sense shou'd judge the Thoughtfulness
of one whose Productions he admitted never having read. "Why, Sir,"
reply'd =Johnson=, "I do not require to become familiar with a Man's
Writings in order to estimate the Superficiality of his Attainments,
when he plainly shews it by his Eagerness to mention his own Productions
in the first Question he puts to me." Having thus become Friends, we
convers'd on many Matters. When, to agree with him, I said I was
distrustful of the Authenticity of =Ossian's= Poems, Mr. =Johnson= said:
"That, Sir, does not do your Understanding particular Credit; for what
all the Town is sensible of, is no great Discovery for a =Grub-Street=
Critick to make. You might as well say, you have a strong Suspicion that
=Milton= wrote 'Paradise Lost!'"
I thereafter saw =Johnson= very frequently, most often at Meetings of
THE LITERARY CLUB, which was founded the next Year by the Doctor,
together with Mr. =Burke=, the parliamentary Orator, Mr. =Beauclerk=, a
Gentleman of Fashion, Mr. =Langton=, a pious Man and Captain of Militia,
Sir =J. Reynolds=, the widely known Painter, Dr. =Goldsmith=, the Prose
and poetick Writer, Dr. =Nugent=, father-in-law to Mr. =Burke=, Sir
=John Hawkins=, Mr. =Anthony Chamier=, and my self. We assembled
generally at seven o'clock of an Evening, once a Week, at the
=Turk's-Head=, in =Gerrard-Street=, =Soho=, till that Tavern was sold
and made into a private Dwelling; after which Event we mov'd our
Gatherings successively to =Prince's= in =Sackville-Street=, =Le
Tellier's= in =Dover-Street=, and =Parsloe's= and the =Thatched House=
in =St. James's-Street=. In these Meetings we preserv'd a remarkable
Degree of Amity and Tranquillity, which contrasts very favourably with
some of the Dissensions and Disruptions I observe in the literary and
amateur Press Associations of today. This Tranquillity was the more
remarkable, because we had amongst us Gentlemen of very opposed
Opinions. Dr. =Johnson= and I, as well as many others, were high Tories;
whilst Mr. =Burke= was a Whig, and against the =American= War, many of
his Speeches on that Subject having been widely publish'd. The least
congenial Member was one of the Founders, Sir =John Hawkins=, who hath
since written many misrepresentations of our Society. Sir =John=, an
eccentrick Fellow, once declin'd to pay his part of the Reckoning for
Supper, because 'twas his Custom at Home to eat no Supper. Later he
insulted Mr. =Burke= in so intolerable a Manner, that we all took Pains
to shew our Disapproval; after which Incident he came no more to our
Meetings. However, he never openly fell out with the Doctor, and was the
Executor of his Will; tho' Mr. =Boswell= and others have Reason to
question the genuineness of his Attachment. Other and later Members of
the CLUB were Mr. =David Garrick=, the Actor and early Friend of Dr.
=Johnson=, Messieurs =Tho.= and =Jos. Warton=, Dr. =Adam Smith=, Dr.
=Percy=, Author of the "Reliques," Mr. =Edw. Gibbon=, the Historian, Dr.
=Burney=, the Musician, Mr. =Malone=, the Critick, and Mr. =Boswell=.
Mr. =Garrick= obtain'd Admittance only with Difficulty; for the Doctor,
notwithstanding his great Friendship, was for ever affecting to decry
the Stage and all Things connected with it. =Johnson=, indeed, had a
most singular Habit of speaking for =Davy= when others were against him,
and of arguing against him, when others were for him. I have no Doubt
but that he sincerely lov'd Mr. =Garrick=, for he never alluded to him
as he did to =Foote=, who was a very coarse Fellow despite his comick
Genius. Mr. =Gibbon= was none too well lik'd, for he had an odious
sneering Way which offended even those of us who most admir'd his
historical Productions. Mr. =Goldsmith=, a little Man very vain of his
Dress and very deficient in Brilliancy of Conversation, was my
particular Favourite; since I was equally unable to shine in the
Discourse. He was vastly jealous of Dr. =Johnson=, tho' none the less
liking and respecting him. I remember that once a Foreigner, a =German=,
I think, was in our Company; and that whilst =Goldsmith= was speaking,
he observ'd the Doctor preparing to utter something. Unconsciously
looking upon =Goldsmith= as a meer Encumbrance when compar'd to the
greater Man, the Foreigner bluntly interrupted him and incurr'd his
lasting Hostility by crying, "Hush, Toctor =Shonson= iss going to
speak!"
In this luminous Company I was tolerated more because of my Years than
for my Wit or Learning; being no Match at all for the rest. My
Friendship for the celebrated Monsieur =Voltaire= was ever a Cause of
Annoyance to the Doctor; who was deeply orthodox, and who us'd to say of
the =French= Philosopher: "Vir est acerrimi Ingenii et paucarum
Literarum."
Mr. =Boswell=, a little teazing Fellow whom I had known for some Time
previously, us'd to make Sport of my aukward Manners and old-fashion'd
Wig and Cloaths. Once coming in a little the worse for Wine (to which he
was addicted) he endeavour'd to lampoon me by means of an Impromptu in
verse, writ on the Surface of the Table; but lacking the Aid he usually
had in his Composition, he made a bad grammatical Blunder. I told him,
he shou'd not try to pasquinade the Source of his Poesy. At another Time
=Bozzy= (as we us'd to call him) complain'd of my Harshness toward new
Writers in the Articles I prepar'd for The Monthly Review. He said, I
push'd every Aspirant off the Slopes of Parnassus. "Sir," I reply'd,
"you are mistaken. They who lose their Hold do so from their own Want of
Strength; but desiring to conceal their Weakness, they attribute the
absence of Success to the first Critick that mentions them." I am glad
to recall that Dr. =Johnson= upheld me in this Matter.
Dr. =Johnson= was second to no Man in the Pains he took to revise the
bad Verses of others; indeed, 'tis said that in the book of poor blind
old Mrs. =Williams=, there are scarce two lines which are not the
Doctor's. At one Time =Johnson= recited to me some lines by a Servant to
the Duke of =Leeds=, which had so amus'd him, that he had got them by
Heart. They are on the Duke's Wedding, and so much resemble in Quality
the Work of other and more recent poetick Dunces, that I cannot forbear
copying them:
"When the Duke of =Leeds= shall marry'd be
To a fine young Lady of high Quality
How happy will that Gentlewoman be
In his Grace of =Leeds'= good Company."
I ask'd the Doctor, if he had ever try'd making Sense of this Piece; and
upon his saying he had not, I amus'd myself with the following Amendment
of it:
When Gallant LEEDS auspiciously shall wed
The virtuous Fair, of antient Lineage bred,
How must the Maid rejoice with conscious Pride
To win so great an Husband to her Side!
On shewing this to Dr. =Johnson=, he said, "Sir, you have straightened
out the Feet, but you have put neither Wit nor Poetry into the Lines."
It wou'd afford me Gratification to tell more of my Experiences with Dr.
=Johnson= and his circle of Wits; but I am an old Man, and easily
fatigued. I seem to ramble along without much Logick or Continuity when
I endeavour to recall the Past; and fear I light upon but few Incidents
which others have not before discuss'd. Shou'd my present Recollections
meet with Favour, I might later set down some further Anecdotes of old
Times of which I am the only Survivor. I recall many Things of =Sam
Johnson= and his Club, having kept up my Membership in the Latter long
after the Doctor's Death, at which I sincerely mourn'd. I remember how
=John Burgoyne=, Esq., the General, whose Dramatick and Poetical Works
were printed after his Death, was blackballed by three Votes; probably
because of his unfortunate Defeat in the =American= War, at =Saratoga=.
Poor =John=! His Son fared better, I think, and was made a Baronet. But
I am very tired. I am old, very old; it is Time for my Afternoon Nap.
DEPARTMENT _of_ PUBLIC CRITICISM
=The Dabbler=, for September, in the entire unexpectedness and splendor
of its appearance, must be counted as one of the most effective of
recent rebukes to the pessimists. There have been several such rebukes,
and those who had already prepared themselves for another barren year in
amateur journalism are beginning to realize that even history cannot be
relied upon to repeat itself indefinitely. =The Dabbler= is issued by
H. L. Lindquist of Chicago, and contains 16 pages, exclusive of the
covers. The initial letters and a few incidental adornments are printed
in green, and the title-page, with its harmonious arrangement of type
and decoration, is a delight to the eye. The typography, throughout, is
almost flawless, and the contents, in general, are worthy of the care
with which they have been presented to the reader. Paul J. Campbell, in
his article, "What Does Amateur Journalism Mean to You?" once again
defines the peculiar benefits and pleasures to be derived from our
hobby, and warns away all those who come to it because of an idle
curiosity, or a vain desire for self-glorification, or any motive other
than a true impulse toward mental development and literary culture. "A
Critical Review," by Frank C. Reighter, is devoted to the July
=Brooklynite=, and subjects that publication to a well-nigh exhaustive
analysis and criticism. The article is both interesting and instructive
and reveals Mr. Reighter as an acute and capable critic. The verses with
which he concludes his remarks are particularly clever and melodious,
and furnish an excellent example of light verse when it is written by
one possessing a natural aptitude for that form of expression. Jennie M.
Kendall, in her fragment, "The One Thing Needful," makes a modern
business woman give her opinion of idle wives, which she does in
forceful, although not always accurate, English. "U. A. P. A. Convention
Echoes," by Litta Voelchert; "The Old-Timer's Comeback," by L. J. Cohen;
and "The Only Hope of A. J.," by W. E. Mellinger, consist of
reminiscence, assurance and advice, from three well-known amateur
journalists. The articles were obviously written somewhat hastily but
are, nevertheless, very interesting and suggestive. H. L. Lindquist, in
"At It Again," tells how he severed his connection with amateur
journalism six years ago--being occupied with several professional
ventures--only to find that the old passion would not die and finally
compelled him to return to his early love. Those who have seen the
result of Mr. Lindquist's acquiescence in his Fate will gain some idea
of what his activity must have meant in other days.
* * * * *
=The Dabbler=, for October, follows hard upon its predecessor and, in
all essentials, is of equal merit. "Hiking in the Rocky Mountain
National Park," by Louis H. Kerber, Jr., is a well-written account of a
tour through some of America's most wonderful scenery, and reflects
great credit on Mr. Kerber's powers of observation. "Day-Dreams," by
Frank C. Reighter, is a didactic poem and so labors under an initial
handicap in attempting to hold the attention of the reader. The
technique of the poet, however, is deserving of praise, and if a fault
must be pointed out, it is in the forced pronunciation of the word
"idea" in the last line, which seems too cheap a device to appear in
poetry, even when, as in the present case, it is used intentionally.
"Dominion Day in Winnipeg," by W. B. Stoddard, is an account of a
patriotic celebration in Canada and was evidently witnessed by the
writer on his recent--and somewhat protracted--travels. "Ecstasy," a
poem, by Eleanor J. Barnhart, begins rather promisingly but we do not
proceed very far before detecting various crudities of craftsmanship.
Lines like the following:
"The changing fire splendor of sky opals, rare,"
and
"Like sea gulls swift soaring in tireless sky flight,"
and, once again,
"Till star gleams bright glittering high in mid-sky,"
contain the germ of true poetry, but when we read them we are aware not
only of a harsh and difficult combination of consonants but also of an
entire absence of metrical swing and grace. In fact, we get an
impression from the above lines that an excessive number of important
words have been crowded hap-hazard upon a metrical pattern which was not
intended to hold so many, and it is not surprising that the fabric
should show signs of being subjected to a severe strain. But care and
practise may yet awaken that poet's instinct within Miss Barnhart which
will enable her to detect and reject, instantly, all such blemishes in
what should be the rounded beauty of her song.
Thomas Curtis Clark is indeed a poet of "Ring and Swing," as an
editorial note to his poems declares him to be. "The Dawn of Liberty"
and "America's Men" must be read in their entirety to be appreciated,
but a quotation from the latter poem may not be amiss.
We are America's men,
Brave, dauntless and true;
We are America's men,
Ready to dare and do;
Ready to wield the sword with might,
Ready the tyrant's brow to smite--
And ready to sheath the sword--for Right!
We are America's Men.
The unsigned story entitled, "The Man Out of Work," is very brief, but
apparently not the effort of a tyro. It would probably hold the
attention even if it were much longer and we are almost inclined to
regret its extreme abruptness. Nevertheless, it is complete as it stands
and an artistic whole. "Still At It," by Mr. Lindquist, gives us
interesting information regarding the editor and also some sound advice
as to finding congenial employment. Mr. Lindquist seems to be a
philosopher whose practise will bear comparison with his theory.
* * * * *
=The Olympian= for October, awakens much of the old-time thrill with
which amateurs were wont to receive the once frequent issues of that
justly known and esteemed publication. The present number is not so
ambitious in some respects as many of its predecessors, but it must be
said that within a somewhat smaller scope it accomplishes quite as much
as a more pretentious issue could hope to do. Nor is the latest
=Olympian= at all in need of any apologies for shortcomings in the way
of size, appearance, or general literary quality. Indeed, publications
that consist of 12 pages and cover are always certain of a hearty
welcome, while the present production of Mr. and Mrs. Cole has
qualifications in addition to those just mentioned that recommend it
warmly to all readers. The poem, "Motherhood," by Ethelwyn Dithridge is
a truly noble and inspired effort. Amateur journalism is fortunate to
number a poet of Miss Dithridge's attainments in its ranks. In
"Retrospect and Prospect," Edward H. Cole sums up the three years of
amateur history which have just passed and comes to the conclusion that
"the best hope for amateur journalism in these days of stress and
strain ... is in the peaceful co-operation of the surviving associations
in a campaign of expansion of a practicable nature." "Here and Now," by
Helene Hoffman Cole, consists of suggestions for the practical
co-operation proposed by Mr. Cole, and should be a stimulus to increased
activity in some positive form among present-day amateurs. "The
Reviewers' Club" is quite as authoritative and sound in its criticisms
as in the past and must always be considered one of the most delightful
and instructive features of =The Olympian=.
* * * * *
The National Amateur Press Association could hardly inaugurate a year of
promised activity more auspiciously than it has by the sterling issue of
its president's =Sprite=. It is just about everything that one could ask
for in amateur journalism. The modest grey of the cover, the excellence
of the paper stock, the flawlessness of the typography, the exquisite
taste with which the component parts are blended--all these strike the
eye at the first glance. When one comes to read the contents, he finds
each contribution well worth the setting. For a leading article we have
something that is well nigh unique in literature, either amateur or
professional, an attempted reconstruction of a scene supposedly excised
from "King Lear." This is so unusual, in fact, that it might well be
called a "stunt," but certainly it is a successful stunt. In the not
overly long scene presented, which pictures the ruthless hanging of
Cordelia and the Fool before the eyes of the aged Lear, we can discern
no quality that is not strictly Shakespearian. The language has been
purged of every trace of modernism and flows with that semi-solemn,
archaic, Elizabethan cadence that almost makes it hard to believe that
it was written in this century. But all this might be done without
achieving the supreme Shakespearian touch. The triumph of the scene is
that the character delineation is carried on with such a mastery of its
intricacies that this scene might be interpolated in a new edition of
the play and fool the higher critics of the future. The author, Samuel
Loveman, is an amateur of former days who celebrates his return to the
hobby with this feat so characteristic of his peculiar genius. The
United has its Lovecraft, a belated Georgian who says he is nowhere so
much at home today as he would be in the coffee-houses of Pope or
Johnson. The National once more after a lapse of years has its Loveman,
a belated Elizabethan who could have walked into the Mermaid Tavern and
proved a congenial soul to Kit Marlowe and friend Will. The United
welcomes him back.
Harry Martin, the editor, follows with an essay on the elements of the
classic Greek tragedy to be found in "King Lear," which in depth, tone,
and general literary quality are strongly reminiscent of the best work
that appears in the =Atlantic Monthly=. As an essay it is perfect in
form, its thesis is stated clearly and developed with forceful logic,
and the wealth of material brought to bear upon the subject displays a
knowledge of Shakespeare and the classic drama worthy of Truman Spencer,
of beloved amateur memory.
The editorial section is only to be criticized in that Mr. Martin has
cut us off with so few of his readable "Views Martinique," but we shall
live in hopes of another excellent =Sprite= with a longer editorial
department. George Cribbs' "History" is just a little poem used for a
filler, but this must not be taken in derogation, for it is filler
chosen with the good taste that characterizes the choice of all the
other contributions. In spite of its simplicity and its brevity, it
plays with the deft touch of mastery on that chord of pathos that always
vibrates to the thought of Time's ceaseless and inevitable surge. From
every point of view the whole journal is a symphony of excellence.
* * * * *
=The Yerma=, for October, is edited by John H. D. Smith of Orondo,
Washington, and, aside from the fact that it is an attractive and
well-printed publication, may be considered as being rather in the
nature of a promise of future achievement. The dedicatory verses "To the
Yerma," by Alice M. Hamlet are fairly good so far as rhyme and metre are
concerned. They run smoothly and are really graceful in sentiment. They
contain one or two grammatical inversions, however, such as
"I would a little jingle write,"
and
"I'd love to be a poet great,"
which have no more right to appear in verse than in prose. Then, too,
they betray an occasional inelegance of expression like the following:
"I find that I am stuck."
But Miss Hamlet should by all means persist in her versifying, since
there can be no doubt that she owns an instinctive grasp of the basic
laws of rhyme and rhythm. If she will read and study the lighter efforts
to be found in any standard anthology of poetry and then, with such
models ever before her, strive sincerely to overcome her present defects
by unremitting practise, Miss Hamlet may yet become a truly clever and
accomplished versifier. "The Reform Spirit--Its Mission," by P. A.
Spain, M. D., is an exceedingly able and thought provoking essay. It is
to be hoped that in future issues Mr. Smith will give us an inkling of
his own ideas on various subjects. The chief defect in =The Yerma= is
the entire absence of editorial comment.
REPORTS OF OFFICERS
PRESIDENT'S MESSAGE
Fellow-Amateurs:--
The fourth month of the United's official year opens with the
organization still nearer completion; Mrs. Helene Hoffman Cole, former
President and thoroughly active and capable amateur, having accepted
appointment as Supervisor of Amendments. The Fourth Vice-Presidency has
been accepted by Alfred Galpin, Jr., 779 Kimball St., Appleton,
Wisconsin.
The Official Editor is to be commended for the excellence of the
September =United Amateur=, as is also the printer, Mr. W. Paul Cook.
The Association will be gratified to hear that Mr. Cook has accepted the
position of Official Publisher for the year; but the members must
remember that only by their liberality in replenishing the Official
Organ Fund, can regular issuance be ensured.
The 1916-1917 Year-Book of the Association, having been completed by the
Committee, is now undergoing critical inspection and condensation by the
expert judgment of Messrs. Paul J. Campbell and Edward F. Daas. Here
again we appeal to the generosity of the members, especially the veteran
members, to make possible the publication in full of this epitome of
amateur history. Unless the Year-Book Fund is materially swelled, the
volume cannot possibly be printed in its unabridged form of sixty-three
closely typed manuscript pages.
The amateur press is now showing signs of a gradual recovery from the
late period of minimum activity. Mr. Martin's remarkable production,
=The Sprite=, Mr. Lindquist's two numbers of =The Dabbler=, Mr. and Mrs.
Cole's welcome =Olympian=, Mr. Cook's wonderfully ample =Vagrant=, and
Mr. John H. D. Smith's small but enterprising =Yerma=, all attest the
reality of this awakening. Within the next few months many more papers
are to be expected; including an excellent one from Miss Lehr, a
scholarly =Piper= from Mr. Kleiner, a brilliant first venture, =The
Arcadian=, from Mrs. Jordan, and both a =Vagrant= and a =Monadnock= from
Mr. Cook. Mr. Cook makes a truly philanthropic offer to print small
papers at reasonable rates, and it is to be hoped that a large number of
members will avail themselves of it, communicating with Mr. Cook
regarding particulars. His address is 451 Main St., Athol, Mass.
Recruiting proceeds steadily if not with meteoric rapidity, some
excellent material having been obtained since the beginning of the
year's campaign. The most serious defect in our system is the lack of a
general welcome shown the new members, particularly as regards the
distribution of papers. One of our most important recruits of last July,
now a responsible officer, declares he has seen but a fraction of the
papers issued since his entrance; a fact indicating a censurable but
easily remediable condition. Let us impress it upon ourselves, that if
we would do our full share toward maintaining the Association and its
literary life, we must see that all our respective publications reach
=every= member new or old. A considerable part of our yearly losses in
membership are undoubtedly due to the indifferent reception which so
many gifted newcomers receive.