The Life of Samuel Johnson

by James Boswell

  This was, however, but a small recompence for such a collection of biography, and such principles and illustrations of criticism, as, if digested and arranged in one system, by some modern Aristotle or Longinus, might form a code upon that subject, such as no other nation can shew. As he was so good as to make me a present of the greatest part of the original, and indeed only manuscript of this admirable work, I have an opportunity of observing with wonder the correctness with which he rapidly struck off such glowing composition. He may be assimilated to the Lady in Waller, who could impress with ‘Love at first sight:’

  ‘Some other nymphs with colours faint,

  And pencil slow may Cupid paint,

  And a weak heart in time destroy;

  She has a stamp, and prints the boy.’982

  That he, however, had a good deal of trouble, and some anxiety in carrying on the work, we see from a series of letters to Mr. Nichols the printer,a whose variety of literary inquiry and obliging disposition, rendered him very useful to JOHNSON. Mr. Steevens appears, from the papers in my possession, to have supplied him with some anecdotes and quotations; and I observe the fair hand of Mrs. Thrale as one of his copyists of select passages. But he was principally indebted to my steady friend Mr. Isaac Reed, of Staple-inn, whose extensive and accurate knowledge of English literary history I do not express with exaggeration, when I say it is wonderful; indeed his labours have proved it to the world; and all who have the pleasure of his acquaintance can bear testimony to the frankness of his communications in private society.

  It is not my intention to dwell upon each of Johnson’s Lives of the Poets, or attempt an analysis of their merits, which, were I able to do it, would take up too much room in this work; yet I shall make a few observations upon some of them, and insert a few various readings.

  The Life of Cowley he himself considered as the best of the whole, on account of the dissertation which it contains on the Metaphysical Poets. Dryden, whose critical abilities were equal to his poetical, had mentioned them in his excellent Dedication of his Juvenal, but had barely mentioned them. Johnson has exhibited them at large, with such happy illustration from their writings, and in so luminous a manner, that indeed he may be allowed the full merit of novelty, and to have discovered to us, as it were, a new planet in the poetical hemisphere.

  It is remarked by Johnson, in considering the works of a poet,a that ‘amendments are seldom made without some token of a rent;’ but I do not find that this is applicable to prose.b We shall see that though his amendments in this work are for the better, there is nothing of the pannus assutus;984 the texture is uniform: and indeed, what had been there at first, is very seldom unfit to have remained.

  Various Readings c in the Life of COWLEY.

  ‘All [future votaries of] that may hereafter pant for solitude.

  ‘To conceive and execute the [agitation or perception] pains and the pleasures of other minds.

  ‘The wide effulgence of [the blazing] a summer noon.’

  In the Life of WALLER, Johnson gives a distinct and animated narrative of publick affairs in that variegated period, with strong yet nice touches of character; and having a fair opportunity to display his political principles, does it with an unqualified manly confidence, and satisfies his readers how nobly he might have executed a Tory History of his country.

  So easy is his style in these Lives, that I do not recollect more than three uncommon or learned words; one, when giving an account of the approach of Waller’s mortal disease, he says, ‘he found his legs grow tumid;’ by using the expression his legs swelled, he would have avoided this; and there would have been no impropriety in its being followed by the interesting question to his physician, ‘What that swelling meant?’ Another, when he mentions that Pope had emitted proposals; when published or issued would have been more readily understood; and a third, when he calls Orrery and Dr. Delany, writers both undoubtedly veracious; when true, honest, or faithful, might have been used. Yet, it must be owned, that none of these are hard or too big words; that custom would make them seem as easy as any others; and that a language is richer and capable of more beauty of expression, by having a greater variety of synonimes.

  His dissertation upon the unfitness of poetry for the aweful subjects of our holy religion, though I do not entirely agree with him, has all the merit of originality, with uncommon force and reasoning.

  Various Readings in the Life of WALLER.

  ‘Consented to [the insertion of their names] their own nomination.

  ‘[After] paying a fine of ten thousand pounds.

  ‘Congratulating Charles the Second on his [coronation] recovered right.

  ‘He that has flattery ready for all whom the vicissitudes of the world happen to exalt, must be [confessed to degrade his powers] scorned as a prostituted mind.

  ‘The characters by which Waller intended to distinguish his writings are [elegance] sprightliness and dignity.

  ‘Blossoms to be valued only as they [fetch] foretell fruits.

  ‘Images such as the superficies of nature [easily] readily supplies.

  ‘[His] Some applications [are sometimes] may be thought too remote and unconsequential.

  ‘His images are [sometimes confused] not always distinct.’

  Against his Life of Milton, the hounds of Whiggism have opened in full cry. But of Milton’s great excellence as a poet, where shall we find such a blazon985 as by the hand of Johnson? I shall select only the following passage concerning Paradise Lost:

  ‘Fancy can hardly forbear to conjecture with what temper Milton surveyed the silent progress of his work, and marked his reputation stealing its way in a kind of subterraneous current, through fear and silence. I cannot but conceive him calm and confident, little disappointed, not at all dejected, relying on his own merit with steady consciousness, and waiting without impatience the vicissitudes of opinion, and the impartiality of a future generation.’

  Indeed even Dr. Towers, who may be considered as one of the warmest zealots of The Revolution Society986 itself, allows, that ‘Johnson has spoken in the highest terms of the abilities of that great poet, and has bestowed on his principal poetical compositions the most honourable encomiums.’a

  That a man, who venerated the Church and Monarchy as Johnson did, should speak with a just abhorrence of Milton as a politician, or rather as a daring foe to good polity, was surely to be expected; and to those who censure him, I would recommend his commentary on Milton’s celebrated complaint of his situation, when by the lenity of Charles the Second, ‘a lenity of which (as Johnson well observes) the world has had perhaps no other example; he, who had written in justification of the murder of his Sovereign, was safe under an Act of Oblivion.’

  ‘No sooner is he safe than he finds himself in danger, fallen on evil days and evil tongues, and with darkness and with danger compassed round.987 This darkness, had his eyes been better employed, had undoubtedly deserved compassion; but to add the mention of danger was ungrateful and unjust. He was fallen, indeed, on evil days; the time was come in which regicides could no longer boast their wickedness. But of evil tongues for Milton to complain, required impudence at least equal to his other powers; Milton, whose warmest advocates must allow, that he never spared any asperity of reproach, or brutality of insolence.’

  I have, indeed, often wondered how Milton, ‘an acrimonious and surly Republican,’ – a man ‘who in his domestick relations was so severe and arbitrary,’ and whose head was filled with the hardest and most dismal tenets of Calvinism, should have been such a poet; should not only have written with sublimity, but with beauty, and even gaiety; should have exquisitely painted the sweetest sensations of which our nature is capable; imaged the delicate raptures of connubial love; nay, seemed to be animated with all the spirit of revelry. It is a proof that in the human mind the departments of judgement and imagination, perception and temper, may sometimes be divided by strong partitions; and that the light and shade in the same character may be kept so distinct as n
ever to be blended.a

  In the Life of Milton, Johnson took occasion to maintain his own and the general opinion of the excellence of rhyme over blank verse, in English poetry; and quotes this apposite illustration of it by ‘an ingenious critick,’ that it seems to be verse only to the eye.b The gentleman whom he thus characterises, is (as he told Mr. Seward) Mr. Lock, of Norbury Park, in Surrey, whose knowledge and taste in the fine arts is universally celebrated; with whose elegance of manners the writer of the present work has felt himself much impressed, and to whose virtues a common friend,988 who has known him long, and is not much addicted to flattery, gives the highest testimony.

  Various Readings in the Life of MILTON.

  ‘I cannot find any meaning but this which [his most bigotted advocates] even kindness and reverence can give.

  ‘[Perhaps no] scarcely any man ever wrote so much, and praised so few.

  ‘A certain [rescue] preservative from oblivion.

  ‘Let me not be censured for this digression, as [contracted] pedantick or paradoxical.

  ‘Socrates rather was of opinion, that what we had to learn was how to [obtain and communicate happiness] do good and avoid evil.

  ‘Its elegance [who can exhibit?] is less attainable.’

  I could, with pleasure, expatiate upon the masterly execution of the Life of Dryden, which we have seenc was one of Johnson’s literary projects at an early period, and which it is remarkable, that after desisting from it, from a supposed scantiness of materials, he should, at an advanced age, have exhibited so amply.

  His defence of that great poet against the illiberal attacks upon him, as if his embracing the Roman Catholick communion had been a time-serving measure, is a piece of reasoning at once able and candid. Indeed, Dryden himself, in his Hind and Panther, hath given such a picture of his mind, that they who know the anxiety for repose as to the aweful subject of our state beyond the grave, though they may think his opinion ill-founded, must think charitably of his sentiment: –

  ‘But, gracious God, how well dost thou provide

  For erring judgements an unerring guide!

  Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light,

  A blaze of glory that forbids the sight.

  O! teach me to believe thee thus conceal’d,

  And search no farther than thyself reveal’d;

  But Her alone for my director take,

  Whom thou hast promis’d never to forsake.

  My thoughtless youth was wing’d with vain desires;

  My manhood, long misled by wand’ring fires,

  Follow’d false lights; and when their glimpse was gone,

  My pride struck out new sparkles of her own.

  Such was I, such by Nature still I am;

  Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame.

  Good life be now my task: my doubts are done;

  What more could shock my faith than Three in One?’989

  In drawing Dryden’s character, Johnson has given, though I suppose unintentionally, some touches of his own. Thus: – ‘The power that predominated in his intellectual operations was rather strong reason than quick sensibility. Upon all occasions that were presented, he studied rather than felt; and produced sentiments not such as Nature enforces, but meditation supplies. With the simple and elemental passions as they spring separate in the mind, he seems not much acquainted. He is, therefore, with all his variety of excellence, not often pathetick; and had so little sensibility of the power of effusions purely natural, that he did not esteem them in others.’ It may indeed be observed, that in all the numerous writings of Johnson, whether in prose or verse, and even in his Tragedy, of which the subject is the distress of an unfortunate Princess, there is not a single passage that ever drew a tear.

  Various Readings in the Life of DRYDEN.

  ‘The reason of this general perusal, Addison has attempted to [find in] derive from the delight which the mind feels in the investigation of secrets.

  ‘His best actions are but [convenient] inability of wickedness.

  ‘When once he had engaged himself in disputation, [matter] thoughts flowed in on either side.

  ‘The abyss of an un-ideal [emptiness] vacancy.

  ‘These, like [many other harlots,] the harlots of other men, had his love though not his approbation.

  ‘He [sometimes displays] descends to display his knowledge with pedantick ostentation.

  ‘French words which [were then used in] had then crept into conversation.’

  The Life of Pope was written by Johnson con amore, both from the early possession which that writer had taken of his mind, and from the pleasure which he must have felt, in for ever silencing all attempts to lessen his poetical fame by demonstrating his excellence, and pronouncing the following triumphant eulogium: – ‘After all this, it is surely superfluous to answer the question that has once been asked, Whether Pope was a poet? otherwise than by asking in return, If Pope be not a poet, where is poetry to be found? To circumscribe poetry by a definition, will only shew the narrowness of the definer; though a definition which shall exclude Pope will not easily be made. Let us look round upon the present time, and back upon the past; let us enquire to whom the voice of mankind has decreed the wreath of poetry; let their productions be examined, and their claims stated, and the pretensions of Pope will be no more disputed.’

  I remember once to have heard Johnson say, ‘Sir, a thousand years may elapse before there shall appear another man with a power of versification equal to that of Pope.’ That power must undoubtedly be allowed its due share in enhancing the value of his captivating composition.

  Johnson, who had done liberal justice to Warburton in his edition of Shakspeare, which was published during the life of that powerful writer, with still greater liberality took an opportunity, in the Life of Pope, of paying the tribute due to him when he was no longer in ‘high place,’ but numbered with the dead.a

  It seems strange, that two such men as Johnson and Warburton, who lived in the same age and country, should not only not have been in any degree of intimacy, but been almost personally unacquainted. But such instances, though we must wonder at them, are not rare. If I am rightly informed, after a careful enquiry, they never met but once, which was at the house of Mrs. French, in London, well known for her elegant assemblies, and bringing eminent characters together. The interview proved to be mutually agreeable.

  I am well informed, that Warburton said of Johnson, ‘I admire him, but I cannot bear his style:’ and that Johnson being told of this, said, ‘That is exactly my case as to him.’ The manner in which he expressed his admiration of the fertility of Warburton’s genius and of the variety of his materials was, ‘The table is always full, Sir. He brings things from the north, and the south, and from every quarter. In his Divine Legation, you are always entertained. He carries you round and round, without carrying you forward to the point; but then you have no wish to be carried forward.’ He said to the Reverend Mr. Strahan, ‘Warburton is perhaps the last man who has written with a mind full of reading and reflection.’

  It is remarkable, that in the Life of Broome, Johnson takes notice of Dr. Warburton’s using a mode of expression which he himself used, and that not seldom, to the great offence of those who did not know him. Having occasion to mention a note, stating the different parts which were executed by the associated translators of The Odyssey, he says, ‘Dr. Warburton told me, in his warm language, that he thought the relation given in the note a lie.’ The language is warm indeed; and, I must own, cannot be justified in consistency with a decent regard to the established forms of speech. Johnson had accustomed himself to use the word lie, to express a mistake or an errour in relation; in short, when the thing was not so as told, though the relator did not mean to deceive. When he thought there was intentional falsehood in the relator, his expression was, ‘He lies, and he knows he lies.’

  Speaking of Pope’s not having been known to excel in conversation, Johnson observes, that ‘traditional memory retains no
sallies of raillery, or sentences of observation; nothing either pointed or solid, wise or merry; and that one apophthegm only is recorded.’ In this respect, Pope differed widely from Johnson, whose conversation was, perhaps, more admirable than even his writings, however excellent. Mr. Wilkes has, however, favoured me with one repartee of Pope, of which Johnson was not informed. Johnson, after justly censuring him for having ‘nursed in his mind a foolish dis-esteem of Kings,’ tells us, ‘yet a little regard shewn him by the Prince of Wales melted his obduracy; and he had not much to say when he was asked by his Royal Highness, how he could love a Prince, while he disliked Kings?’ The answer which Pope made, was, ‘The young lion is harmless, and even playful; but when his claws are full grown he becomes cruel, dreadful, and mischievous.’

  But although we have no collection of Pope’s sayings, it is not therefore to be concluded, that he was not agreeable in social intercourse; for Johnson has been heard to say, that ‘the happiest conversation is that of which nothing is distinctly remembered but a general effect of pleasing impression.’ The late Lord Somerville,a who saw much both of great and brilliant life, told me, that he had dined in company with Pope, and that after dinner the little man, as he called him, drank his bottle of Burgundy, and was exceedingly gay and entertaining.