'They do what I found it not very easy to endure. Theypollutethe tea-table by plates piled with large slices of Cheshire cheese[41].' The happiness of this remark will be fully felt by those acquainted with the peculiar purity of Pomposo's person.
'M'Leod left themlyingdead by families as theystood[42].' This isprofound; for no man can stand and lie at the same time. The line ought to be readthus: 'M'Leod left them lyingdeadby families as theyHADstood.'
Of the Memoirs of Scriblerus, the Doctor says: 'If the whole may be estimated by this specimen, which seems to be the production of Arbuthnot, with a few touches, perhaps, by Pope, the want of more will not be much lamented; for the follies which the writer ridicules, are so little practised, that they are not known; nor can the satire be understood but by the learned: He raises phantoms of absurdity, and then drives them away: He cures diseases that were never felt.
'For this reason[43], the joint production of three great writers has never obtainedanynotice from mankind. It has been little read, or when read, has been forgotten, as no man could be wiser, better, or merrier by remembering it.
'The designcannot boast of much originality; for, besides its general resemblance toDon Quixote, there will be found in it particular imitations of the history of Mr Ouffle.
'Swift carried so much of it into Ireland as supplied him with hints for his travels; and with those the world might have been contented, though the rest had been suppressed[44].'
Here we have a copious specimen of the Doctor'staste; and all the volumes of English criticism cannot produce a poorer page.
The work thus condemned, displays a very rich vein of wit and learning. The follies which it exposes, though a little heightened, were, in that age, frequent, and perfectly well known. The writers whom it ridicules, have sunk intonihility. The book is always reprinted with the prose works of Pope, and Swift, and Arbuthnot; and what stronger mark ofnoticecan the public bestow? Every man who readsit, must be the wiser and the merrier; and the satire may be understood with very little learning.
Dr Arbuthnot was a Scotsman, and, probably, a Presbyterian. He was an amiable man. He isdead. Dr Johnson feels himself to be his inferior; and, therefore, endeavours to murder the reputation of his works. To gain credit with the reader, he artfully draws a very high character of Arbuthnot, a few pages before, and here, in effect, overturns it. He had said that Arbuthnot was 'a scholar, with great brilliancy of wit.' But, if his wit and learning are not displayed in the Memoirs of Scriblerus, we may ask where wit and learning are to be found?
Of this extract, the style is as slovenly as the leading sentiments are false.
The book is said to be, the 'production of Arbuthnot.' Within ten lines, it is 'the joint production ofthreegreat writers.' How can follies be practised which are not known? or diseases cured, which were never felt? He claims the attributes of omniscience when saying, that 'it has been little read, or when read, has been forgotten;' for, as it has been so frequently reprinted, no human being can be certain that it has been little read, or forgotten; but there is the strongest evidence of the contrary. This period concludes, as it began, with a most absurd assertion. If 'the design cannot boast of much originality,' there is nothing original in the literary world. Who is Mr Ouffle? and who told the Doctor that Swift carried any part of Scriblerus into Ireland, to supply hints for his travels? When Gulliver was published, Dr Arbuthnot, as appears from their correspondence, did not know whether that book was written by Swift or not; so that we are sure the Dean carriednothingof Arbuthnot's along with him. Had Dr Johnson 'flourished and stunk' in their age, he would have been the hero of Martin's memoirs; and, to suppose him conscious of this circumstance, will account for the Rambler's malevolence, and explain why the bull broke into a china-shop.
I beg particular attention to the following passage.
'His (Pope's) version may be said to have tuned the English tongue; for, since its appearance, no writer[45], however deficient in other powers, has wantedmelody[46].' This is wild enough; but, of Gray's two longest Odes, 'the language is laboured intoharshness.' Hammond's verses 'never glide in a stream ofmelody.' The diction of Collins 'was oftenharsh, unskilfully laboured, and injudiciously selected. His lines, commonly, are of slow motion, clogged and impeded with clusters of consonants.' Of the style of Savage, 'The general fault is,harshness.' The diction of Shenstone 'is oftenharsh, improper, and affected,' &c.
Of these five poets, some were not born when Pope's version was published; and, of the rest, not one had penned a line now extant. They are all here charged, in the strongest terms, withharshness; and yet, (mirabile dictu!) since the appearance of Pope's version, 'no writer, however deficient in other powers, has wantedmelody.'
It is no less curious, that the author of this wonder-working translation is himself charged with want of melody; and that too in a poem written many years after the appearance of Pope's Homer. 'The essay on man contains more lines unsuccessfully laboured, moreharshnessof diction, more thoughts imperfectly expressed, more levity without elegance, and more heaviness without strength,[47]' &c.
'Gray thought his language more poetical, as it was more remote from common use[48].' This assertion is not entirely without foundation, but it is very far from being quite true.
'Finding in Dryden, honeyredolent of spring, an expression that reaches the utmost limits of our language, Gray drove it a little more beyond commonapprehension, by makinggaleto beredolent of joy and youth[49].' The censure is just. But Dr Johnson is the last man alive, who should blame an author for driving our language to its utmost limits: For a very great part of his life has been spent in corrupting and confounding it. In some verses to a Lady, he talks of hisarthriticpains[50], an epithet not very suitable to the dialect of Parnassus. Dr Johnson himself cannot always write common sense. 'In a short time many were content to be shewn beauties whichthey could not see[51].' He must here mean—'Beauties which they could nothave seen;'—for it is needless to add, that no man can be shewn what he cannot see.
It is curious to observe a man draw his own picture, without intending it. Pomposo, when censuring some of Gray's odes, observes, That 'Gray is too fond of words arbitrarily compounded. The mind of the writer seems to work with unnatural violence.Double, double, toil and trouble.' He (the author of an Elegy in a country church-yard) 'has a kind of strutting dignity, and is tall by walking on tip-toe. His art and his struggle are too visible, and there is too little appearance of ease, or nature. In all Gray's odes, there is a kind of cumbrous splendour which we wish away[52].' We may say like Nathan,Thou art the man.
Mr. Gray, and Mr. Horace Walpole, are said to havewanderedthrough France and Italy[53]. And as a contrast to this polite expression, I shall add some remarks which have occurred on the Doctor's own mode of wandering.
'It must afford peculiar entertainment to see a person of his character, who has scarcely ever been without the precincts of this metropolis (London), andwho has been long accustomed to the adulation of a little knot of companions of his own trade, sallying forthin quest of discoveries—Neither the people nor the country that he has visited will perhaps be considered as the most extraordinary part of the phænomena he has described.—The Doctor has endeavoured to give an account of his travels; but he has furnished his readers with a picture of himself. He has seen very little, and observed still less. His narration is neither supported by vivacity, to make it entertaining, nor accompanied with information, to render it instructive. It exhibits the pompous artificial diction of the Rambler with the samevacuity of thought.—The reader is led from one Highland family to another merely to be informed of the number of their children, the barrenness of their country, and of the kindness with which the Doctor was treated. In the Highlands he is like a foolish peasant brought for the first time into a great city, staring at every sign-post, and gaping with equal wonder and astonishment at every object he meets[54].'
'At Florence they (Gray and Walpole) quarelled and parted; and Mr. Walpole isnowcontent to have it told that it was by his fault[55].' This is a dirty insinuation; and the rant which follows in the next period is of equal value.
He observes, That 'A long storyperhaps adds little to Gray's reputation[56].'Perhapswas useless here, and indeed the Doctor has introduced it in a thousand places, where it was useless, and left it out in as many where it was necessary. In justice to Gray, he ought to have added, that their Author rejected, from a correct edition of his works, this insipid series of verses.
'Gray's reputation was now so high that he had the honour of refusing the laurel[57].' No man's reputation has ever yet acquired him the laurel, without some particular application from a courtier. Whathonour is acquired by refusing the laurel? An hundred pounds a-year would have enabled an œconomist like Mr Gray to preserve his independence and exert his generosity. The office of laureat is only ridiculous in the hands of a fool. Mr. Savage in that character produced nothing which would dishonour an Englishman and a poet. It is probable that Mr. Gray, a very costive writer, could hardly have made a decent number of verses within the limited time. From the passage now quoted the reader will not fail to remark, that the Rambler 'nurses in his mind a foolish disesteem of kings[58].'
Mr. Gray 'had a notion not very peculiar, that he could not write but at certain times, or at happy moments; a fantastic foppery to whichmykindness for a man of learning and of virtue wishes him to have been superior[59].' Milton, who was no doubt a shallow fellow compared with the Reformer of our language, had the same 'fantastic foppery.' Mr Hume remarks that Milton had not leisure 'to watch the returns of genius.'—Every man feels himself at some times less capable of intellectual effort, than at others. The Rambler himself has, in the most express terms, contradicted his present notion. In Denham's life he quotes four lines which must, he says, have been written 'in somehour propitious to poetry.' In another place in the same lives his tumid and prolix eloquence disembogues itself to prove, what no man ever doubted, viz. 'That a tradesman's hand is often out, he cannot tell why.' And an inference is drawn, That this is still more apt to be the case with a man straining his mental abilities.
In Gray's ode on spring, 'The thoughts have nothing new, the morality is natural, but too stale[60].' Read the poem, and then esteem the critic if you can. Speaking ofthe Bardhe says, 'Of the first stanza the abrupt beginning has been celebrated; buttechnicalbeauties can give praise only to the inventor[61].' The question here is, What he means by atechnicalbeauty? That word he explains, 'Belonging to arts; not in common or popular use'—How can this word in either of these senses apply here with propriety?
What he says of 'these four stanzas[62]'—conveys, I think, no sentiment. Every word may be understood separately, but in their present arrangement they seem to have no meaning, or they mean nonsense, and perhaps, contradiction; but this passage I leave to the supreme tribunal of all authors—to the reason and common sense of the reader. He can best determine whether he has 'never seen the notions in any other place, yet persuades himself that he always felt them.' These ideas are very beautifully expressed in many passages of Gaelic poetry: and Mr. Gray, let it be remembered, to the honour of his taste and candour, was the warm admirer of Fingal.
Comparing Gray's ode with an ode of Horace[63], he says, 'there is inthe Bardmore force, more thought, and more variety'—as indeed there very well may, for in the one there are thirty-six lines only, and in the other one hundred and forty-four. His whole works are full of such trifling observations. 'But to copy is less than to invent, theft is always dangerous.' If he means to insinuate that Gray's Bard is a copy of Horace, (and this is the plain inference from his words) I charge him in direct terms asan atrocious violator ofTruth.
'The fiction of Horace was to the Romans credible; (NO) but its revival disgustsuswith apparent and unconquerable falsehood,Incredulus odi[64].' Howwill the Doctor's verdict be digested at Aberdeen by 'a poet, a philosopher, and a good man[65].' It is diverting to remark how thesemutual admirersclash on the clearest point, with not a possibility of reconcilement.
I pass by five or six lines, which are not worth contradiction, though they cannot resist it. 'I do notseethatthe Bardpromotes any truth moral or political[66].' The Rambler's intellect isblind.—He seems to have stared a great deal, to have seen little or nothing. The Bard very forcibly impresses this moral, political, and important truth, that eternal vengeance would pursue the English Tyrant and his posterity, as enemies to posterity, and exterminators of mankind. Dr Johnson, a stickler for thejus divinum, did not relish this idea.
He commends the 'Ode on Adversity,' but the hint was at 'first taken from Horace[67].' The poem referred to has almost no resemblance to Mr Gray's. And if we go on at this rate, where will we find any thing original? He mistakes the title of this poem, which is not an 'Ode on,' but a 'Hymn to' Adversity. This is a clear though trifling proof of his inattention. As he dare not condemn this piece, it is dismissed in six lines, to make room for 'The wonderful wonder of wonders, the two Sister Odes, by which many have been persuaded to think themselves delighted[68].' He chews them through four tedious octavo pages. We come then to Gray's Elegy, which occupies an equal share of a paragraph containing only fourteen lines. So much more plentiful is the critic in gall than honey! And in reading this fragment we may remark thatnonsenseis notpanegyric.
Speaking of Welsh Mythology, he says, 'Attention recoils from the repetition of a tale that, even when it wasfirstheard, was heard with scorn[69].' There is no reason to think that the Welsh disbelieved these fictions. It is much more likely that many believe them at this day. Shakespeare has from this superstition made a whimsical picture of Owen Glendower: He painted nature. This is one of those assertions which our dictator should have qualified with aperhaps, an adverb, which, wherever itoughtto be met with in the Doctor's pages, 'will not easily be found[70].'
'But I will no longer look for particular faults; yet let it be observed that the ode might have been concluded with an action of better example; but suicide is always to be had without expence of thought[71].'
The lines objected to are these:
'He spoke, and headlong from the mountains height,Deep in the roaring tide, he plung'd to endless night.'
Let the Doctor, if he can, give us a better conclusion.
'The Prospect of Eaton Collegesuggests nothing to Gray, which every beholder does not equally think and feel[72].' He might as well have said, that every man in England is capable of producing Paradise Lost.
We have seen with what tenderness Dr Johnson speaks of the dead, we shall now see his tenderness to the living. 'Let us give the Indians arms, and teach them discipline, and encourage them now and then to plunder a plantation. Security and leisure are the parents of sedition[73].' The Doctor seems here to be serious. The proposal must reflect infinite honour on his wisdom and humanity.
'No part of the world has yet had reason to rejoice thatColumbusfound at last reception and employment[74].' This wild opinion is fairly disproved by Dr Smith, a philosopher not much afraid of novelty; for he has advanced a greater variety of original, interesting, and profound ideas, than almost any other author since the first existence of books.
'Such is the unevenness of Dryden's compositions that ten lines are seldom found together without something of which the reader is ashamed[75].' This is a very wideaberrationfrom truth. In Dryden's fables we may frequently meet with five hundred lines together, withouttenamong them, which could have disgraced the most eminent writer. His prologues and epilogues are a never failing fountain of good sense and genuine poetry. But it were insulting the taste of the English nation to insist any farther on this point. We shall presently see how far Dr Johnson's Dictionary will answer the foregoing description.
Dryden it is said discovers 'in the preface to his fables, that he translated the first book of the Iliad without knowing what was in the second[76].' This insinuation revolts against all probability; and whoever peruses that elegant and delightful preface will find it to beNOT TRUE.
'The highest pleasure which nature has indulged to sensitive perception is that of rest after fatigue[77].' Andsensitiveis defined 'having sense or perception; but not reason.' If I understand the meaning of this passage, it is, that no pleasure communicated through any of the organs of sense is equal to that ofrest. This assertion leads to the most absurd consequences. In man, to separate sensitive from rational perception appears to be simply impossible. Even rest is not in strict language any pleasure. It is merely a mitigation of pain. The reader will decide whether I do theDoctor justice, while I say, that he must have been petrified when he composed this maxim. Thirst and hunger had been long forgot. Handel and Titian had no power to charm. We learn that a lover can receive, and his mistress can bestow nothing which is equal to the rapturous enjoyment of aneasy chair. The thought is new; no human being ever did, or ever will conceive it, except this immortalIdler.
'Physicians and lawyers are no friends to religion, and manyconjectureshave been formed to discover thereasonof sucha combinationbetween men who agree innothing else, and who seem to be less affected in their own provinces by religious opinions than any other part of the community[78].' He then proceeds in the tone of an author, who has made a discovery to inform us of the cause. 'They have all seen a parson, seen him in a habit different from their own, and thereforedeclared waragainst him.' Butthiscan be no motive for peculiar antipathy to parsons, allowing such antipathy to exist; for in habit all other classes differ no less from the clergy, than the lawyer and physician. But the remark itself is frivolous and false. Boerhaave and Hale were men of eminent piety. Physicians and lawyers have as much regard for religion as any other people generally have. Theiragreeing in nothing elseis another of the blunders crowded into this passage. But I have too much respect for the reader's understanding to insist any farther on this point. Theconjecturers, thecombination, and thedeclaration of war, exist no where but in the Doctor's pericranium. He was at a loss what to say, and the position is only to be regarded as aturbid ebullition of amphibological inanity. But while we thus meet with something which is ridiculous in every page, we are not to forget even for a moment, what we have often heard, and what is most unquestionablytrue, viz. That Dr Johnson is the father of British literature, capital author of his age, and the greatest man in Europe[79]!!!
'We are by our occupations, education, and habits of life, divided almost into different species, who regard one another for the most part with scorn and malignity[80].' The Doctor is himself a proof, that a man may look upon almost all of his own profession with scorn and malignity: So that between his precept and his practice, the world seems bad enough. But I hope every heart revolts at this gross insult on the characters of mankind. He brings as an instance the aversion which subsists between soldiers and sailors. There no doubt have been jealousies and bloodshed between these two classes of men, but the same accidents fall out more frequently between soldiers themselves. Thescornandmalignityof admirals seldom affect any line of service but their own. His captain of foot[81], who saw no danger in a sea-fight was a fool, and just such aspecimenof English officers, as the Doctor himself is of English travellers. Our repulse at Carthagena was not owing to an antipathy between thecommonmen. Our late victory at Savannah proves with what ardour they can unite. The Doctor has insulted almost every order of society.
Coblers with coblers smoke away the night,Even players in the common cause, unite.Authorsalone with more than mortal rage,Eternal war with brother authors wage[82].
'To raise esteem we must benefit others,' is an assertion advanced in the same page. But the Doctor, if he knows any thing, must know thatesteemis often felt for an enemy. We value for his courage or ingenuity the man who never heard our name, or who would not give a guinea to save us from perdition. We can esteem the hero who butchers nations, and the pedant who perplexes truth. Marlborough's avarice led him to continue the continental war, tillhe had laid the great foundation of our public debt. He was detested as much as any generalnowin England, and yet 'he was so great a man (said one of his enemies) that I have forgot his faults.' Posterity, while they suffer for his baseness, pay the due tribute of esteem to his genius and intrepidity.
In every point of view this maxim is 'the baseless fabrick of a vision.' And what had so farobumbratedthe Rambler's powers ofratiocination, it is not easy to guess. We sometimes feel it impossible to esteem even our benefactor. 'I have received obligations (said Chatterton) without being obliged.' And of consequence, his benefactors had forfeited his esteem. The father of British literature has in forty other places contradicted his own words. He has proved that esteem is involuntary, and that benefits do not alwaysprocure it.
The Doctor says, 'That Cowley having, when very young, read Spenser, becameirrecoverablya poet[83].'And he adds a remark that shows his good sense: 'Such are the accidents which, sometimes remembered, and sometimes perhaps forgotten,PRODUCEthat particular designation of mind and propensity for some certain science or employment, which is commonly called genius. The true genius is a mind of large general powers,accidentallydetermined to some particular direction. The great painter of the present age had the first fondness for his art excited by a perusal of Richardson's treatise.' This drawlingdefinition contradicts common sense. Does the Doctor mean that Cowley would have become a painter by perusing Richardson? or that Reynolds would have become a poet by perusing Spenser? This is the clear inference from his words, and its absurdity is 'too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation[84].' At this rate Garrick might have eclipsed Newton, and Voltaire defeated Frederick. Plato possessed 'a mind of large general powers.' He read Homer. He wrote verses, and he found that he could not be a poet. The Doctor himself has 'large general powers;' but he could never have been made a decent dancing master. Marcel might have broke his heart, before his pupil had acquired three steps of a minuet. In his dictionary the Doctor, without a word ofaccidentaldetermination, defines genius to be 'disposition ofnature, by which any one is qualified for some peculiar employment.' And here I cannot help adding, that 'the great painter' has by stepping out of his own line, discovered the narrowness of even a great man's knowledge. He affirms[85], Thatscarce a poet from Homer down to Dryden ever felt his fire diminished merely by his advance in years. There is nothing more absurd, says Cicero, than what we hear asserted by some of the philosophers. Even in painting, the President's own profession, that rule does not hold. Cellini tells us, that Michael Angelo's genius decayed with years; and he speaks of it as common to all artists. His notion was perhaps graftedon an opinion of the Doctor's about the durability of Waller's genius[86]. But Waller was a feeble poet; he never had a genius, so that we need not wonder he never lost it. All his verses are hardly worth one of Dr Johnson's imitations of Juvenal.
Rowe (the famous tragic poet) 'seldom moves either pity or terror[87].' Paradise Lost is a work which 'the reader admires, and lays down,and forgets to take up again[88],' But Rowe's Lucan, which is very little read, the Doctor pronounces to be 'one of thegreatestproductions of English poetry.' Dr Johnson's sycophants have asserted, that 'in the walks of criticism and biography he has long been without a rival.' And they are no doubt willing to support their idol in his infamous assertion, that Swift 'excites neither surprise nor admiration[89].' The Doctor's disregard for the unanimous sentiments of mankind often excites surprize, but never admiration. Let us here apply his own observation, that 'there is often found in commentaries a spontaneous train of invective and contempt, more eager and venemous than is vented by the most furious controvertist in politics, against whom he is hired to defame[90].' We may illustrate the Rambler's remark by his own example: 'Theobald, a man of narrow comprehension, and small acquisitions, with no native and intrinsick splendour of genius, with little of the artificial light of learning—his contemptible ostentation I have frequently concealed[91].' The definer of a fiddlestick proceeds thus: 'I have in some places shewn him, as he would have shewn himself for the reader's diversion, that theinflatedemptiness of some notes may justify or excuse the contraction of the rest.'—The advocate for tenderness and decorum goes on to tell us, that 'Theobald, thus weak and ignorant, thusmeanandFAITHLESS, thus petulant and ostentatious, by the good luck of having Pope for hisenemy, has escaped, and escapedalonewith reputation from this undertaking. So easily is he praised whom no man can envy[92].' How does it appear that Theobald was weak and ignorant? The Doctor himself had in the preceding page told us, that 'he (Theobald) collated the antient copies, and rectifiedmanyerrors.' This assertion our author, with his wonted consistency, has flatly contradicted in the very next line. 'Whatlittlehe (Theobald) did was commonly right.' Has the Doctor adduced, or has he attempted to adduce evidence, that Theobald wasmeanandfaithless, or what provocation has he to load this man's memory with such injurious epithets? His burst of vulgarity can reflect disgrace on nobody but himself. It is evident, tho' he thinks proper to deny it, that he considered Theobald as an object of envy; yet he is obliged to confess that Theobald 'escaped, and escapedalone, with reputation,' from the talk of amending Shakespeare. In assigning a reason for this applause of Theobald, Dr Johnson pays a very poor compliment to the penetration of the public, for surely to combat a writer of so much merit and popularity as Pope, was not the plainest road to eminence in the literary world.
'In his (Shakespeare's) tragic scenes there isalways something wanting'——NO[93]——'In his comic scenes he is seldom very successful, when he engages his characters inreciprocationsof smartness, and contests of sarcasms; their ideas arecommonly gross, and their pleasantrylicentious.' This accusation is cruel and unjust, as all the world knows already. But a great part of that preface is an incoherent jumble of reproach and panegyrick[94]. If any thing can be yet more faulty than what we have just now seen, it is what follows: 'Whenever he (Shakespeare) solicitshis invention, or strains his faculties[95], the offspring of histhroesistumour(i. e.puffygrandeur[96]),meanness,tediousness, andobscurity. His declamations or set speeches arecommonly cold and weak.' Theset speeches(as the Doctor elegantly terms them) of Petruchio, of Jacques, of Wolsey, and of Hamlet, areperhapsneither cold nor weak. The conclusion of this period is worthy of such a beginning; he mentions certain attempts from which Shakespeare 'seldom escapes without the pity or resentment of his reader.' The Doctor himself is an object of pity. Shakespeare has been in his grave near two centuries—His life was innocent—His writings are immortal. To feel resentment against so great a man because his works are not every where equal, is an idea highly becoming the generosity of Dr Johnson.
What 'truth, moral or political,' is promoted by telling us, that, when Thomson came to London,his first want was a pair of shoes; that Pope 'wore a kind of fur doublet, under a shirt of very coarse warm linen, withfine sleeves[97];'and a long string of such tiresome and disgusting trifles, which make his narrative seem ridiculous. Had Dr Johnson been Pope's apothecary, we would certainly have heard of the frequency of his pulse, the colour of his water, and the quantity of his stools.
'Though Pope seemed angry when a dram was offered him, he did not forbear to drink it[98].' And who the Devil cares whether he did or not? The Doctor needed hardly to have told us, that 'his petty peculiarities were communicated by a female domestic;' for no gentleman would have confessed that they came within the reach of his observation.
Thetruly illustriousauthor of theRambler, hasexerted his venemous eloquence,through several pages, in order to convince us, that 'never were penury of knowledge andvulgarityof sentiment so happily disguised,' as in Pope's Essay on Man. For this purpose, the Doctor celebrates the character of Crousaz, whose intentions 'werealwaysright, his opinions were solid, and his religion pure[99].' In opposition to such authorities, let us hear the great and immortal citizen of Geneva.
'M. de Crousaz has lately given us a refutation of the ethic epistles of Mr Pope, which I have read; but it did not please me. I will not take upon me to say, which of these two authors is in the right; but I am persuaded, that the book of the former will never excite the reader to do any one virtuous action, whereasour zeal for every thing great and good is awakened by that ofPope[100].'
The Essay on Man, he says, 'affords an egregious instance of the predominance of genius, the dazzling splendour of imagery, and the seductive powers of eloquence. The reader feels his mind full, though he learnsNOTHING; and when he meets it in its new array, no longer knows the talk of his mother, and his nurse[101].' If the conversations of Dr Johnson's mother and his nurse were equal to Mr Pope's verses, it is a pity the Doctor had not preserved them. He could hardly have spent his time so well. And it is a wonder that with so many rare opportunities of improvement, the Doctor has never yet eclipsed his nurse. Voltaire pronounces Pope's Essay to be the finest didactick poem in the world, and he would no doubt have replied to the Doctor's objections in that tone of contempt with which the Doctor replied to some of his—'These are the petty cavils of petty minds[102].'
In the Essay on Man 'so little was any evil tendency discovered, that, as innocence is unsuspicious,many read it for a manual of piety[103];'—and will continue to read it, when the cavils of Dr Johnson are forgotten or despised.
'He (Pope) nursed in his mind a foolish disesteem of Kings.' And again, 'He gratified that ambitious petulance with which he affected to insult the great[104].'
Dr Johnson himself is by no means remarkable for his respect to the great. In the preface to his folio Dictionary, he tells us, that it was written 'without any patronage of thegreat,' which is a mistake; for he had published a pamphlet, some years before, wherein he acknowledges, that Chesterfield had patronized him; and why the Doctor should retract his own words, it is hard to say; for Chesterfield continued his friend to the last; and such a man was very likelythe strongest spoke in the Doctor's wheel. But his Lordship is now dead, and the Doctor is always and eminentlygrateful.
'It has been maintained by some,who love to talk of what they do not know, that pastoral is themost antientpoetry.' But in the next period, 'pastoral poetry was thefirstemployment of the human imagination[105].' The Doctor, therefore, by his own account, is one of those,who love to talk of(and what is yet worse, to assert)what they do not know. In North America, the natives have no conception of pastoral life among themselves, and their poetry, such as it is, hath no relation to that state of society.
Pastoral poetry 'is generally pleasing, because it entertains the mind with representations of scenes, familiar toalmost everyimagination, and of whichallcan equally judge whether they are well described, or not[106].'
This period is so closely interwoven with nonsense, that it will take some pains to disentangle it. Rural scenes are not familiar toalmost everyimagination. In England half the people are shut up in large towns,and such is the gross ignorance of some of them, that an old woman in London once asked,whether potatoes grew on trees. Neither is every man an equal judge even of what is familiar to him. Observe how the Rambler confounds the distinction betweenall, andalmost every. The whole number is in the same stile.
'At this time a long course of opposition to Sir Robert Walpole had filled the nation with clamours for liberty, of which no man felt the want, and with care for liberty which was not in danger[107].'
No man was more violent than Dr Johnson in abusing Walpole. We have already seen some of those political definitions, which at this hour deform the Doctor's Dictionary. His late zeal for government could arise from self interest only. And to take his own words, he comes under suspicionas a wretch hired to vindicate the late measures of the Court[108]. He accuses Milton as a tool of authority, as a forger hired to assassinate the memory of Charles I. These charges came with a very bad grace from the Rambler. They are long since refuted in a separate publication, and yet they will be reprinted in every future edition of his book.
Will any man be the wiser, the better, or the merrier, by reading what follows—'Lyttleton was his (Shenstone's) neighbour, and his rival, whose empire, spacious and opulent, looked with disdain on thepetty statethat appeared behind it. For a while the inhabitants of Hagley affected to tell their acquaintance of thelittle fellowthat was trying to make himself admired; but when by degrees the Leasowes forced themselves into notice, they took care to defeat the curiosity which they could not suppress, by conducting their visitants perversely to inconvenient points of view, and introducing themat the wrong end of a walk to detect a deception; injuries of which Shenstone would heavily complain[109].' The paragraph closes with adeepobservation.
As the Doctor's own associates[110]have lamented the existence of this beautiful and important passage, I have only to say, thatPoorLyttleton (as the Doctor calls him) patronized Fielding, and that the Rambler patronizes William Shaw: That his Lordship was an elegant writer: That he did not adopt Johnson's new words: ThatLexiphaneswas dedicated to him: That he was a great and an amiable man: And that he isdead.
With all his affectation of hard words, the Doctor becomes at once intelligible when he wishes to reprobate a rival genius, or insult the ashes of a benefactor. In defiance of Addison, and a thousand othershallow fellows, he asserts that Milton 'both in prose and verse had formed his stile by aperverseandpedantickprinciple[111].'
Speaking of Mr Walmsley, he says, 'At this man's table I enjoyed many chearful and agreeable hours, with companions such as are not often to be found.—I am not able to name a man of equal knowledge. He never receivedmynotions with contempt.—He was one of the first friends whom literature procured me,—and I hope that at least mygratitudemade me worthy of his notice. It may be doubted whether a day now passes, in which I have not some advantage from his friendship[112].' But then, 'He was aWhigwithALLthe virulence and malevolence ofhisparty.' This is a most beautiful conclusion; and quite in the Doctor's stile. His accusation is incredible. A monster, such as he draws here, can seldom deform existence.
We are told that at St. Andrews Cardinal Beaton 'was murdered by the ruffians of Reformation[113].' And it seems to be the fashion of the day, to censure that action. Yet it is allowed on all hands that Wishart's doctrine, in spite of itsincomprehensibilities, was better than Popery—that Beaton, a profligate usurping Priest, had committed every human vice—that, without civil authority, he dragged our Apostle to the stake—and that his avowed design was to expell or exterminate the whole Protestant party. Had the Cardinal been permitted to complete his plan, we durst not at this day have disputed, 'Whether it is better to worship a piece of rotten wood[114], or throw it in the fire?' It is therefore evident that to kill this tyrant was highly proper and laudable. We may just as well censure the centurion who slew Caligula. When a philosopher, who truly deserves that title, was once in conversation reprobating Melvil, he was interrupted by this, simple question, Whether if his own antagonist had conductedhimto the stake, he would not have pardoned a pupil for avenging his blood? 'I would most certainly,' he replied, and such must be the real sentiments of all men, whatever they may chuse to print. When we attempt to hide the feelings of nature, that we may support a favourite system, we never fail to become ridiculous. In this age and nation, if a magistrate shall rise above the law; if he rob us of life with the most barbarous exulation; if his guilt equal whatever history hath recorded; if he want nothing but the purple and the legions to rival Domitian, the voice of nature will be heard. The brave will reject such unmanly, such fatal refinements of speculation. Like Hambden and Melvil, they will stand forth in defence of themselves, and their posterity. They will relieve their fellow citizens from temporal perdition. They will drive insolence and injustice from the seat of power. They will exult in danger, and rush to revenge or death. They will plunge their swords inthe heart of their oppressor; or they will teach him, like Charles, to atone upon the scaffold for the tears and the blood of his people; and while in the eyes of their countrymen, they read their glory[115], they will perhaps reflect with a smile, that some slavish pedant, some pensioned traitor to the rights of mankind, is one day to mark them out as objects of public detestation[116].
'The theatre, when it is under any other direction, is peopled by such characters as were never seen, conversing in a language which was never heard, upon topics which will never arise in the commerce of mankind.—Upon every other stage the universal agent is love, by whose power all good and evil is distributed, and every action quickened or retarded. To bring a lover, a lady and a rival into the fable; to entangle them in contradictory obligations, perplex them with oppositions of interest, and harrass them with violence of desires inconsistent with each other; to make them meet in rapture, and part in agony; to fill their mouths with hyperbolical joy, and outrageous sorrow; to distress them as nothing human ever was distressed; to deliver them as nothing human ever was delivered, is the business of a modern dramatist. Forthis probability is violated, life is misrepresented, and language is depraved[117].' The weakest of Dr Johnson's admirers will blush in reading this passage. He very fairly denies every degree of merit, to every dramatic writer, of every age or nation, Shakespeare alone excepted. What can be more ridiculous than this?
'Every man finds his mind more strongly seized by the tragedies of Shakespeare than of any other writer; others please us by particular speeches, but he always makes us anxious for the event, by exciting restless andunquenchable[118]curiosity, and compelling him that reads his work to read it through[119].' But the Doctor overthrows all this within a few pages, for Shakespeare has 'perhapsnotoneplay, which, if it were now exhibited as the work of a cotemporary writer,would be heard to the conclusion[120].' The Rambler cannot always suppress his thorough contempt for the taste of the public. He no doubt laughs internally at their folly in admiring him.
I proceed to the Doctor's English Dictionary, and shall begin with quoting the remarks already made by a judicious friend, on this subject.
'Among the many foibles of the human race, we may justly reckon this to be one, that when they have once got any thing really useful, they apply it in all cases, proper or improper, till at last they make it quite ridiculous. Nothing can possibly be more useful than a just and accuratedefinition, because by this only we are able to distinguish one thing from another. It is obvious, however, thatin definitions we ought always to define a thing less known, by one which is more so, and those things which are known to every body, neither can be defined, norought we to attempt a definition of them at all; because we must either explain them by themselves, or by something less known than themselves, both of which give our definitions the most ridiculous air imaginable.
'A certain right reverend gentleman, not many miles from Edinburgh, and whom, out of my great regard for the cloth, I put in the first place, gave the following definition of a thief. "A thief," says he, "my friends, is a man of athievish disposition." Now though this definition is somewhat imperfect, for a thief also exerts thatthievish dispositionwhich lurks in his breast, I intend to take it for my model, on account of its great conformity to many of the definitions given by the most celebrated authors.—I remember to have seen in one of the Reviews a definition ofNature, which began in the following manner. "Nature is thatinnatecelestial fire."—The rest has in truth escaped my memory, though I remember the Reviewers indecently compared it to the following lines, which they say were a description of a dog-fish.
'And his evacuationsWere madea parte post.A parte post!these words so hardIn Latin though I speak 'em,Their meaning in plain English is,He made pureAlbum Græcum.
'This definition rather goes a step beyond that of the clergyman, as it explains the wordsa parte postbyAlbum Græcum, which are more obscure than the former, and neither of which, out of my great regard to decency, I choose to translate.—Whether Dr Johnson composed his dictionary, after hearing the above-mentioned clergyman's sermon, or not, I cannot tell, but he seems very much to have taken him for his model, even though the said clergyman was a Presbyterian, and Dr Johnson has an aversion at Presbyterians. Thus, when he tells us, thatshortisnot long, and thatlongisnot short, hecertainly might as well have told us that a thief is a man of a thievish disposition. I am surprised indeed how the intellects of a human creature could be obscured by pedantry, and the love of words, to such a degree, as to insert this distinction in a book, pretended to be written for the instruction and benefit of society. Much more am I surprised how the authors of all dictionaries of the English language have followed the same ridiculous plan, as if they had positively intended to make their books as little valuable as possible. Nay, I am almost tempted to think, that the readers have a natural inclination to peruse nonsense, and cannot be satisfied without a considerable quantity of thatingredientin every book which falls into their hands.Longandshortare terms merely relative, and which every body knows; to explain them therefore by one another, is to explain them by themselves. But besides this ridiculous way of explaining a thing by itself, pedants, of whom we may justly reckon Dr Johnson the Prince, have fallen upon a most ingenious method of explaining the English by theLatin, or some other language still further beyond the reach of vulgar ken. Thus, when Dr Johnson definesfire, he tells us it is theigneous element.To water(the verb) he tells us, is toirrigate, by which no doubt we are greatly edified.To dois topractise, andto practiseisto do, &c.
'But the most curious kind of definitions are these œnigmatical ones of our author, by which he industriously prevents the reader from knowing the meaning of the words he explains. Thus, thehairhe tells us is one of the commontegumentsof the body; but this will not distinguish it from the skin, and shews the extreme poverty of judgment under which the Doctor laboured, when he could not point out the distinguishing mark between the hair and skin. A dog is "a domestic animal remarkably various in his species," but this does not distinguish him, except to natural historians, from a cow, a sheep, or a hog; for of these there are also differentbreedsor species. A cat is "a domestic animal that catches mice;" but this may be said of an owl, or a dog; for a dog will catch mice if he sees them, though he does not watch for them as a cat does. Nay, if we happen to overlook the wordanimal, or not to understand it, we may mistake the cat for a mouse-trap. The earth, according to our learned author, is "the element distinct from fire, air, or water;" but this may be light or electricity as well as earth.—Air is "the element encompassing the terraqueous globe;" but an unlearned reader would be very apt to mistake this for the ocean, &c.
'When the Doctor comes to hislearneddefinitions, he outdoes, if possible, his œnigmatical ones. Network is "any thingreticulatedordecussatedat equal distances." A nose is "the prominence on the face which is the organ of scent, and the emunctory of the brain."—The heart is "the muscle which by its contraction and dilatation propells the blood through the course of circulation, and is therefore considered as the source of vital motion."—Now let any person consider for whom such strange definitions can possibly be intended. To give instruction to the ignorant they certainly are not designed; neither can they give satisfaction to the learned, because they are not accurate. The nose, for instance, he says is the emunctory of the brain; but every anatomist knows that it performs no such office, neither hath the nose any communication with the brain, but by means of its nerves.—Yet this dictionary is reckoned the best English one extant. What then must the rest be; or what shall we think of those who mistake a book, stuffed with such stupid assemblages of words, for alearnedcomposition? Definitions undoubtedly are necessary, but not such as give us no information, or lead us astray.Neither can any thing shew the sagacity, or strength of judgment, which a man possesses, more clearly than his being able to define exactly what he speaks about; while such blundering descriptions as these, above quoted, shew nothing but the Doctor's insignificance[121].'
That the courteous reader may be qualified to judge for himself, I shall now insert a variety of quotations from this wonderful, amazing, admirable, astonishing, incomparable, immortal, and inimitable book. Too much cannot be said in its praise. I shall however let it speak for itself. Every page, indeed, is so pregnant with superexcellent beauties, that in selecting them, the critic's situation resembles that of the schoolman's ass between two bundles of hay; his onlydifficultyis where to begin. The pious husband of Bathsheba had asked 'What isMan?' But let it be told in Rome, and published in the streets of Paris, to the honour of the English nation, that her greatest philosopher has received 300l. a-year for informing us that—
Manis a 'Human being. 2. Not a woman. 3. Not a boy. 4.Not a beast.' Woman. 'The female of the human race.' Boy. '1. A male child; not a girl. 2. One in the state ofadolescence.' Girl. 'A young woman or child.' (Femalechild he should have said.) Damsel. 'A young gentlewoman; a wench; a country lass.' Lass. 'A girl; a maid; A young woman.' Wench. '1. A young woman. 2. A young woman in contempt. 3. A strumpet.' Strumpet. 'A whore, a prostitute.' Whore. '1. A woman who converses unlawfully with men; a fornicatress; an adultress; a strumpet. 2. a prostitute; a woman who receives men for money.' To whore,v. n.(from the noun) 'To converse unlawfully with the other sex.' To whore,v. a.'To corrupt with regard to chastity.' Whoredom,s.(from whore) 'Fornication.' (Here follow severalother definitions on the same pure subject, which every body understands as well as Dr Johnson.) Young. 'Being in the first part of life.Not old.' Youngster, younker. 'A young person.' (I pass bytenother articles, aboutyouthfulcompounded ofyouthandfull, &c. &c. because young people are in no danger of thinking themselves old.) Yuck,s.(jocken, Dutch.) 'Itch,' Old. 'Past the middle part of life;not young; not new; ancient; not modern.Of old.Long ago; from ancient times.' Hum, interj. 'A sound implying doubt and deliberation,Shakespeare.' Fiddlefaddle,s.(a cant word) 'Trifles.' Fiddlefaddle,a.'Trifling; giving trouble.'
(——His own example strengthens all his laws,Sam is himself the true sublime he draws.)
Fiddler,s.(fromfiddle) 'A musician, one that plays upon a fiddle.' Here follow fiddlestick, compounded of fiddle and stick, and warranted an English word by Hudibras; and Fiddle-string,s.(Fiddle and string) 'the string of a fiddle.Arbuthnot.' Sheep's eye. 'A modest and diffident look, such as lovers cast at their mistresses.' Love. 'Lewdness.' Andthirteenother explanations.Lovemonger.'One who deals in affairs love.' (Besides about twenty other articles concerning this subject of equal obscurity and importance.) Sweetheart. 'A lover or mistress.' Mistress. 'A woman beloved and courted; a whore, a concubine.' Wife. 'A woman that has a husband.' A Runner. 'One who runs.' Husband. 'Thecorrelativeto wife.' Shrew. 'A peevish, malignant, clamorous, spiteful, vexatious, turbulent woman.' Scold. 'A clamorous, rude, mean, low, foul mouthed woman.' Henpecked,a.(henandpecked) 'Governed by the wife.' Strap. 'A narrow long slip of cloth orleather.' Whip. 'An instrument of correctiontoughandpliant.' Cuckingstool,s.'An engine invented for the punishment of scolds andunquietwomen.' Cuckoldom. 'The state of a cuckold.' (Cuckold,s.Cuckold,v. a.Cuckoldy,a.and Cuckoldmaker,s.(compounded ofcuckold, andmaker) I leave out, as the reader is, perhaps, already initiated in the mysteries of that subject.) Arse,s.'The buttocks' To hang an arse. 'To be tardy, sluggish' Buttock. 'The rump, the part near thetail' Rump. '1. The end of the backbone. 2. The buttocks.' Thimble. 'A metal cover by which women (yea andtaylorstoo Doctor) secure their fingers from the needle.' Needle. 'A small instrument pointed at one end to pierce cloth, andperforatedat the other to receive the thread.' Gunpowder. 'The powder put into guns to be fired.' Maidenhead. Maidenhode. Maidenhood. 'Virginity, virgin purity, freedom from contamination.' Oh,interj'An exclamation denoting pain, sorrow, or surprise.' Hope 'That which givesHope.The object ofHope.' Fear. '1. Dread; horror; apprehension of danger. 2. Awe; dejection of mind. 3. Anxiety, solicitude,' &c. Impatience. 'Heat of passion;inabilityto suffer delay, eagerness.' Virgin. 'A woman not a mother.' Virginity. 'Maidenhead; unacquaintance with man.' Fart. 'Wind from behind.Suckling' To fart. 'To break wind behind.Swift.' Marriage. 'The act of uniting a man and woman for life.' Repentance. 'Sorrow for any thing past.' Kiss. 'Salute given by joining lips.' Kisser. 'One that Kisses.' To piss,v. n.'To make water.L'Estrange.' Pisss.(from the verb) 'Urine;animal water.Pope.'Pissburnt,a.'Stained with urine.' Pedant. 'A man vain oflowknowledge.'
Of these extracts, I suppose opinion is uniform. Every man who reads them, reads them with contempt. To tell us that amanis not abeast, seems to be an insult, rather than a definition. To say, thatyoungisnot old, and, thatoldisnot young, of old, &c. is to say nothing at all. There is a medium; there is a state between these periods of life. And his definitions convey no meaning; for a man may benot oldtho' he isnot young. Many articles, such as whoring,whoremaster, whoremonger, whorishly, &c. are as indecent, as they are impertinent, and seem only designed todivert school boys.Hum, Yuck, Fiddle, Fiddler, Fiddlefaddle,s.Fiddlefaddle,a.Fiddlestick, Fiddlestring, Thimble, Needle, Gunpowder, Hope, O, and O—and Oh, and twenty-eight or thirty explanations of the particleon, are left without remark to the reader's penetration. Some are well enough acquainted with amaidenhead, and such as are not, will be no wiser by reading Dr Johnson: For he says, That it isvirginity, and that again is explained (like more than half the words in his book) by the word it explains. Neither can amaidenheadensure freedom frompollution; for a girl may be polluted, without losing hermaidenhead; and on the other hand, the Doctor dare not say that amarriedwoman is, for that reason,polluted. Love, he callslewdness, and he may as well say, thatlightisdarkness. His admirers will answer, that he also gives the right meaning; but let them tell, why he gave any besides the right meaning, and why he collected such a load of blunders into his book. Or since he did collect them, why he did not mark them down as wrong. For in the preface to his octavo, he tells us, that it is written for 'explaining terms of science.' But to select twenty barbarous misapplications of a word, is not explaining the word, but onlyconfusion worse confounded. Indeed that whole preface is a piece of the most profound nonsense, which ever insulted the common sense of the world. A virgin, isa woman not a mother. But many wives, and many concubines too, have never propagated the species, though they had (as Othello says) a thousand times committed the act of shame. From this literary chaos, a foreigner would be apt to imagine thattheywerevirgins.
Corking pin. 'A pin of the largest size.' Bum. 'The part upon which we sit.' Butter. 'Anunctuoussubstance.' Buttertooth. 'Thegreat broad foretooth.' Off. prep. 'Not on.' Potato. 'Anesculentroot.' Turnip. 'A whiteesculentroot.' Parsley, 'A plant.' Parsnep. 'A plant.' Colliflower. 'Cauliflower.' Cauliflower. 'A species ofcabbage.' Cabbage. 'A plant.' Pit. 'A hole in the ground.' Pin. 'A short wire, with a sharp point, and round head, used by women to fasten their cloaths.' Plate. 'A small shallow vessel of metal (or of stone or wood Doctor) on which meat is eaten.' Play. 'Not work.' Poker. 'The iron bar with whichmenstir the fire.' Pork. 'Swine's fleshunsalted.' (Here you may findPorker,Porkeater,Porket,Porkling, with all their derivations, definitions, and authorities.) Porridge. 'Food made by boiling meat in water.' Porridge-pot, (porridgeandpot) 'The pot in which meat is boiled for a family.' Porringer, (fromporridge) 'a vessel in which broth is eaten.' Part. 'Some thing less than the whole.' Andthirteenotherramifications. Pulse. 'Oscillation;vibration.' Puff. 'A quick blast with the mouth.' Vid. in same page, Pudding,s.from theSwedish, (which is a mistake, for it is from the Frenchboudin)Pudding Pie, fromPuddingandPie, andPudding-time, fromPuddingandtime. Puddle,s.Puddle,v. a.& Puddly, &c. Shadow. 'Opacity, darkness,Shade.' Shade. 'The cloud oropacitymade by interception of the light.' Darkness. 'Obscurity.Umbrage.' Shadiness, 'The state of beingshady;umbrageousness.' Shady. 'Full ofshade;MILDLYgloomy.'
(No light, but rather darkness visible.)
Sevenscore. 'Seven times twenty.' Shadowy. 'Dark,opake.' To yawn. 'To gape, tooscitate,' Yawn,s.'Oscitation,Hiatus.' Yea. 'Yes.' Yes, 'A term of affirmation, the affirmative particle opposed tono.' See also in the same place, Yest. Year. (12 months) Yesterday,s.The day last past, the next day before to-day. Yesterday,ad.Yesternight,s.Yesternight,ad.Yet,con.Yet,ad.Nine times explained. Vent. 'A smallaperture; a hole; aspiracle.' Wind. 'Aflowingwave of air;flatulence; windiness.'Winker. 'One who winks.' To wink. 'To shut the eyes.'
(No, Sir, unless you open them again directly.)
Window. 'Anaperturein a building by which air and light areintromitted.'N. B.Almost the whole of the same page is daubed over with such jargon. Said. 'Aforesaid.' Scoundrel. 'A mean rascal; a low petty villain.' Rascal. 'A mean fellow; a scoundrel.' Villain. 'A wicked wretch.' Wretch. 'A miserable mortal.' No,ad.'The word of refusal. 2. The word of denial.' No,a.'1. Not any;NONE. 2.No one;NONE:not any one.' (Had this wordnonealtered its meaning, before the Doctor got to the end of the line?) Nobody. (Noandbody) 'No one; not any one.' (See also Nod,v. a.Nod,s.Nodder. Noddle. Noddy, &c.) None. '1. Not one. 2. Not any. 3. Not other.' Nothing. 'Negationof being; not any thing,' andseventeenother definitions. Afore. (aandfore) 'before, nearer in place to any thing.'