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JOHNSON.
Samuel Johnson was born September 18, 1709, in the city of Lichfield,
where his father, a man well respected for sense and learning, carried
on the trade of a bookseller, and realized an independence, which he
afterwards lost by an unsuccessful speculation. His mother also
possessed a strong understanding. From these parents Johnson derived a
powerful body, and a mind of uncommon force and compass. Unfortunately
both mind and body were tainted by disease: the former by a melancholy,
of which he said that it had “made him mad all his life—at least not
sober;” the latter by that scrofulous disorder called the king’s evil,
for which, in compliance with a popular superstition, recommended by the
Jacobite principles of his family, he was _touched_ by Queen Anne. By
this disease he lost the sight of one eye, and the other was
considerably injured: a calamity which combined with constitutional
indolence to prevent his joining in the active sports of his
school-fellows. Tardy in the performance of his appointed tasks, he
mastered them with rapidity at last, and he early displayed great
fondness for miscellaneous reading, and a remarkably retentive memory.
After passing through several country schools, and spending near two
years in a sort of busy idleness at home, he went to Pembroke College,
Oxford, about the age of sixteen. There he made himself more remarkable
by wit and humour, and negligence of college discipline, than by his
labours for University distinction: his translation of Pope’s Messiah
into Latin hexameters was the only exercise on which he bestowed much
pains, or by which he obtained much credit. But his high spirits, unless
the recollections of his earlier years were tinctured by his habitual
despondency, were but the cloak of a troubled mind. “Ah! Sir,” he said
to Boswell, “I was mad and violent. It was bitterness which they mistook
for frolic. I was miserably poor, and I thought to fight my way by my
literature and my wit, so I disregarded all power and all authority.”
His poverty during this period was indeed extreme: and the scanty
remittances by which he was supported, in much humiliation and
inconvenience, were altogether stopped at last by his father’s
insolvency. He had the mortification to be compelled to quit Oxford in
the autumn of 1731, after three years’ residence, without taking a
degree; and his father’s death in the December following threw him on
the world, with twenty pounds in his pocket.
He first attempted to gain a livelihood in the capacity of usher to a
school at Market-Bosworth, in Leicestershire. For that laborious and
dreary task he was eminently unfit, except by talent and learning, and
he soon quitted a situation which he ever remembered with a degree of
aversion amounting to horror. After his marriage he tried the experiment
of keeping a boarding-house, near Lichfield, as principal, with little
better success. From Bosworth he went to Birmingham, in 1733, where he
composed his first work, a translation of the Jesuit Lobo’s Voyage to
Abyssinia. He gained several kind and useful acquaintance in the latter
town, among whom was Mr. Porter, a mercer, whose widow he married in
1735. She was double his age, and possessed neither beauty, fortune, nor
attractive manners, yet she inspired him with an affection which
endured, unchilled by the trials of poverty, unchanged by her death,
even to the end of his own life, as his private records fully testify.
She died in 1752.
In March, 1737, Johnson set out for the metropolis, in hopes of mending
his fortunes, as a man of letters, and especially of bringing on the
stage his tragedy of Irene. It was long before his desires were
gratified in either respect. Irene was not performed till 1749, when his
friend and former pupil, Garrick, had the management of Drury-Lane.
Garrick’s zeal carried it through nine nights, so that the author, in
addition to one hundred pounds from Dodsley for the copyright, had the
profit of three nights’ performance, according to the mode of payment
then in use. The play however, though bearing the stamp of a vigorous
and elevated mind, and by no means wanting in poetical merit, was unfit
for acting, through its want of pathos and dramatic effect: and Johnson
perhaps perceived his deficiency in these qualities, for he never again
wrote for the stage. Garrick said of his friend, that he had neither the
faculty to produce, nor the sensibility to receive the impressions of
tragedy: and his annotations upon Shakspeare confirm this judgment.
His first employment after his arrival in London, was as a frequent
contributor to the Gentleman’s Magazine, from which, during some years,
he derived his chief support. This was a period of labour, poverty, and
often of urgent want. Sometimes without a lodging, sometimes without a
dinner, he became acquainted with the darker phases of a London life;
and among other singular characters, a similarity of fortunes made him
acquainted with the notorious Richard Savage, whom he regarded with
affection, and whose life is one of the most powerful productions of
Johnson’s pen.
In the thoughts suggested, and the knowledge taught, by this rough
collision with the world, we may conjecture his imitation of the third
satire of Juvenal, entitled London, to have originated. To the majority
of the nation it was recommended by its strong invectives against the
then unpopular ministry of Sir Robert Walpole, as well as by the energy
of thought and style, the knowledge of his subject, and the lively
painting in which it abounds: it reached a second edition in the course
of a week, and Boswell tells us, on contemporary authority, that “the
first buz of the literary circles was, ‘here is an unknown poet, greater
even than Pope.’” Yet this admired poem produced only ten guineas to its
author, and appears to have done nothing towards improving his
prospects, or giving a commercial value to his name: his chief
employment was still furnished by the Gentleman’s Magazine; and in
November, 1740, he undertook to report, or rather to write, the
Parliamentary debates for that publication. At that time the privileges
of Parliament were very strictly interpreted, and the avowed publication
of debates would have been rigorously suppressed. Such a summary however
as could be preserved in the memory, was carried away by persons
employed for the purpose, and the task which Johnson undertook was to
expand and adorn their imperfect hints from the stores of his own
eloquence: in doing which he took care, as he afterwards acknowledged,
that “the Whig dogs should not have the best of it.” The speeches of
course were referred to fictitious names, and were published under the
title, Debates of the Senate of Lilliput: but in February, 1743,
Johnson, on finding that they were esteemed genuine, desisted from the
employment, declaring that he would not be accessary to the propagation
of falsehood. So scrupulous was he on this score, that forty years
after, not long before his death, he expressed his regret at having been
the author of fictions that had passed for realities.
For a detailed account of this early portion of Johnson’s literary
history, we refer the reader to Boswell’s Life, and the list of
Johnson’s works thereto prefixed, and pass on at once to those greater
performances, to which he owes his eminent rank among British writers.
Of these the earliest and most celebrated is his Dictionary of the
English Language. How long the plan of this work had been meditated,
before it was actually commenced, is uncertain: he told Boswell, that
his knowledge of our language was not the effect of particular study,
but had grown up insensibly in his mind. That he under-rated the time
and labour requisite for such a work, is evident from his promising in
his prospectus, issued in 1747, to complete it in three years: he
probably had also under-rated the needful knowledge, and amount of
preparatory study. In fact it was not published till 1755. He received
for it 1575_l._, of which however a very considerable portion was spent
in expenses. The prospectus was addressed to Lord Chesterfield; who
expressed himself warmly in favour of the design, and from that time
forward treated the author with neglect until the time of publication
drew nigh, when he again assumed the character of a patron. Fired at
this, Johnson repudiated his assistance in a dignified but sarcastic
letter, which is printed by Boswell. The transaction merits notice, for
it is characteristic of Johnson’s independent spirit, and excited at the
time much curiosity and comment.
The Dictionary was justly esteemed a wonderful work: it established at
once the author’s reputation among his contemporaries, and was long
regarded as the supreme standard by which disputed points in the English
language were to be tried. Johnson’s chief qualification for the task
lay in the accuracy of his definitions, and the extent of his various
and well-remembered reading; his chief disqualification lay in his
ignorance of the cognate Teutonic languages, the stock from which the
bulk and strength of our own is derived: and in proportion as the
history and philosophy of the English language have been more
extensively studied, has the need of a more learned and philosophical
work of reference been felt. The verbose style of his definitions is
rather a fruitful theme of ridicule than an important fault. Shortly
before its publication he received from the University of Oxford, which
through life he regarded with great affection and veneration, the
honorary degree of M.A., a mark of respect by which he was highly
gratified.
That his labour in composing this work was not severe, may be inferred
from the variety of literary employments in which, during its progress,
he found time and inclination to engage: among which we may select for
mention the imitation of Juvenal’s tenth satire, entitled Vanity of
Human Wishes, and the periodical paper called the Rambler, which was
published twice a week, from March 20, 1750, to March 17, 1752. Of the
whole series, according to Boswell, only four papers, and a part of a
fifth, were contributed by other pens: and it is remarkable, considering
the general gravity of the subjects, and the elaboration of the style,
that most of them were struck off at a heat, when constitutional
indolence could procrastinate no longer, without even being read over
before they were printed. The circulation of the work was small; for its
merits, which lie chiefly in moral instruction and literary criticism,
were of too grave a cast to ensure favour: the lighter parts, and the
attempts at humour, are the least successful. But its popularity
increased as the author’s fame rose, and fashion recommended his
grandiloquent style; and before his death it went through numerous
editions in a collected form.
In 1756 he issued proposals for an edition of Shakspeare, a scheme which
he had contemplated as long back as 1745, when he published
Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth. He promised to
complete it before Christmas, 1757, but it did not appear until October,
1765. Imperfectly versed in the antiquities, literature, and language of
the Elizabethan era, the source from which almost all valuable comment
on our early dramatists has been drawn, he has done little to elucidate
difficulties or correct errors. His preface has been esteemed among the
most valuable of his critical essays. But the perusal of his notes, and
especially of his summary criticisms on the several plays, will confirm
Garrick’s judgment as to his sensibility, and show that he wanted that
delicate perception and deep knowledge of the workings of the passions
which were necessary to the adequate fulfilment of his most difficult
task.
From April 15, 1758, to April 5, 1760, Johnson wrote a second periodical
paper, called the Idler. Twelve only, out of one hundred and three
essays, were contributed by his friends; the rest were generally written
with as much haste, and are of slighter texture, than those of the
Rambler. Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia, he wrote in the beginning of
1759, to defray the expenses of his mother’s funeral, and pay some
trifling debts which she had left. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, that it
was composed in the evenings of one week, and sent to the press in
portions as it was written. This anecdote affords a good instance of
Johnson’s facility and power, when an adequate stimulus was applied:
from the rich imagery, and the varied, powerful strain of reflection
which pervade it, and the elaborated pomp of its style, it would
assuredly be taken for the product of mature consideration, labour, and
frequent revision. For this he received one hundred pounds, and
twenty-five pounds more at a second edition. It has been translated into
most European languages.
In 1762 Johnson accepted a pension of 300_l._, for which he underwent
considerable obloquy. This was entirely undeserved, though in some sort
he had brought it on himself by indulging his satirical bias and
political predilections in a wayward definition of the words _pension_
and _pensioner_, in his Dictionary; where other instances occur of his
indulging the humour of the moment, whether it prompted him to spleen or
merriment. Why he should not have accepted the pension, no sound reason
can be given: his Jacobitical predilections, never probably so strong as
he used to represent them in the heat of argument, were lost, like those
of others, in the hopelessness of the cause; and his Toryism naturally
led him to transfer his full respect and allegiance to the reigning
king, who never was suspected of an undue bias towards Whiggism. The sum
bestowed was no more than an honourable testimony to his literary
eminence, and a comfortable provision for his declining age: and as far
as it is possible to form an opinion on such matters, the gift was
unstained by any compact, expressed or understood, for political
support.
Among the more important events of Johnson’s life, we are bound to
mention his acquaintance with Mr. Boswell, which commenced in 1763, not
only because it formed an important article among the pleasures of the
philosopher’s declining years, but because it led to the composition and
publication of the most lively and vivid picture ever given by one man
of another, the Life of Johnson. By Boswell, Johnson was induced, in
compliance with a wish that he had long before entertained, to undertake
a journey to the Scottish Highlands and the Hebrides: and it is
remarkable that the first English book of travels (as we believe,) into
what to the English was then almost a _terra incognita_, should have
been composed by a man so careless of natural beauty, and so little
disposed to sacrifice his ease and habits to the cravings of curiosity,
as Johnson. His desire to visit that country seems to have arisen rather
from a wish to study society in a simple form, than from any taste for
the wild beauties of our Northern regions, of which he saw not the most
favourable specimen, and has given not a flattering account. His Journey
to the Western Islands will be read with pleasure, abounding in acute
observation, passages of lofty eloquence, and grateful acknowledgment of
the kindness and hospitality which he received; kindness which his
snappish railings against the Scotch in general never led him to
undervalue or forget. His companion and disciple’s account of their
expedition will, however, be read with more amusement, from presenting
such vivid pictures of the author himself, as well as of the subject
which he painted, and of the varied characters to which they were
introduced, and scenes in which they intermingled. We may here add that
Johnson was a resolute unbeliever in the authenticity of Macpherson’s
Ossian, against which, in his book, he pronounced a decided judgment. He
thus gave considerable offence to national vanity. To the claims of
second-sight he was more favourable. Throughout life he was influenced
by a belief, not only in the possibility, but in the occasional exertion
of supernatural agencies, beyond the regular operation of the laws of
nature.
In 1775, Johnson received from the University of Oxford the honorary
degree of D.C.L. The same degree had been conferred on him some time
before by the University of Dublin; but he did not then assume the title
of doctor. His only subsequent work which requires notice is the Lives
of the English Poets, written for a collective edition of them, which
the booksellers were about to publish. To the selection of the authors,
praise cannot be given: many ornaments to our literature are omitted,
and many obscure persons have found a place in the collection: this
however, probably, was not Johnson’s fault. The publication began in
1779, and was not completed till 1781: the lives have gone through many
editions by themselves. Though strongly coloured by personal and
political predilections, they contain much sound criticism, and form a
valuable article in British biography.
Many incidents connected with Johnson’s life, his places of residence,
his domestication in Mr. Thrale’s family, his connexion with The Club,
and the like, have been made generally known by the amusing works of
Boswell, Mrs. Piozzi, and others. Perhaps public curiosity was never so
strongly directed towards the person, habits, and conversation of any
man known only as an author; and certainly it never has been so amply
gratified. Boswell’s Life of Johnson is unique in its kind.
His powers of conversation were very great, and not only commanded the
admiration and deference of his contemporaries, but have contributed in
a principal degree to the upholding of his traditionary fame. They were
deformed by an assumption of superiority, and an intolerance of
contradiction or opposition, which often betrayed him into offensive
rudeness. Yet his temper was at bottom affectionate and humane, his
attachments strong, and his charity only bounded, and scarcely bounded,
by his means.
The latter years of Dr. Johnson’s life were overshadowed by much gloom.
Many of his old and most valued friends sank into the grave before him;
his bodily frame was much shattered by disease; his spirits became more
liable to depression; and his sincere and ardent piety was too deeply
tinged by constitutional despondency to afford him steady comfort and
support under his sufferings. He was struck by palsy in 1783, but
recovered to the use both of his bodily and mental faculties. A
complication of asthma and dropsy put an end to his existence, December
13, 1785. During his illness, his anxiety for a protracted life was
painfully intense: but his last hours are described by the bystanders to
have been calm, happy, and confident. He was buried in Westminster
Abbey. A statue to his memory is erected in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
[Illustration: [Monument to Dr. Johnson in St. Paul’s Cathedral.]]
[Illustration:
_Engraved by W. Holl._
JEFFERSON.
_From a Print engraved by A. Desnoyers._
Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge.
_London, Published by Charles Knight & C^o. Ludgate Street._
]
[Illustration]
JEFFERSON.
From the American Revolution of 1776 we may date the commencement of
that struggle which has agitated and still agitates Europe and the two
Americas. By whatever words the character of this struggle may be
expressed,—whether under the name of popular rights against exclusive
privileges, or self-government or the government of the people, against
absolute government or the government of a few, or by any other terms
more or less appropriate,—the contest is still going on, openly and
actively in those called free governments, silently and languidly in
those where the sovereign power is opposed to the extension or
introduction of the new doctrines. The contest is between progress (not
here considered whether as right or wrong) and standing still; between
change, without which there cannot be improvement, and a desire to
resist all change, which can hardly end in keeping things stationary,
but almost necessarily leads to a backward movement. The contest is not
only for the practical application of principles in government, which
are vigorously maintained by the one party, and either not denied or
faintly opposed by the arguments of the other; but also for the free
expression and publication of all opinions on all subjects affecting the
moral and political condition of society.
There is no individual, either in America or in Europe, who by his
actions and opinions has had a greater influence on this contest than
THOMAS JEFFERSON. During a long and laborious life, both in official
situations which gave him opportunities that his activity never let
slip, and in private life in his extensive correspondence and
intercourse with persons of all countries, he constantly, perseveringly,
and honestly maintained what he conceived to be the principle of pure
republican institutions. In the ardour of youth, his zeal and energy
mainly contributed to animate his countrymen to declare their
independence on a foreign power. In his maturer age, when a member of
the General Administration, he struggled, and he struggled at one time
almost alone, against a monarchical and aristocratical faction, to
maintain the great principles of the Revolution, and develop the
doctrines of a pure unmixed popular government. His influence gave to
these doctrines a consistency, and a form, and a distinctness, which the
mass of the nation could easily seize and retain. He thus became the
head of a party in the United States, which, whether always rightly
appealing to his doctrines or not for the vindication of their acts,
still regards him as the father of their school and the expounder of
their principles. By his plain and unaffected manners, and the freedom
with which he expressed his opinions on all subjects, he gave a
practical example of that republican simplicity which he cultivated, and
of that free inquiry which he urged upon all. Such a man must always
have many friends and many enemies. From his friends and admirers he has
received, perhaps, not more praise than those who believe in the truth
of his doctrines and the purity of his conduct are bound to bestow; by
his enemies, both at home and abroad, he has been blackened by every
term of abuse that bigotry, malice, and falsehood can invent.