Dr. Johnson's Works: Life, Poems, and Tales Part 6

[z] Before this authentic communication, Mr. Nichols had given, in the volume of the Gentleman's Magazine, for 1781, p. 370, the following account of the Universal History. The proposals were published October 6, 1729; and the authors of the first seven volumes were,

Vol. I. Mr. Sale, translator of the Koran. IV. The same as vol. iii.

II. George Psalmanazar. V. Mr. Bower.

III. George Psalmanazar. VI. Mr. Bower.

Archibald Bower. Rev. John Swinton.

Captain Shelvock. VII. Mr. Swinton.

Dr. Campbell. Mr. Bower.

[aa] On the subject of voluntary penance, see the Rambler, No. 110.

[bb] It is to be regretted, that he was not encouraged in this undertaking. The a.s.sistance, however, which he gave to Davies, in writing the Life of Garrick, has been acknowledged, in general terms, by that writer, and, from the evidence of style, appears to have been very considerable.

[cc] Dr. Johnson informed Mr. Boswell, that this epilogue was written by sir William Yonge. See Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. i. p. 469-- 70. 8vo. edit. 1804. The internal evidence, that it is not Johnson's, is very strong, particularly in the line, "But how the devil," &c.

[dd] See Johnson's letters from Ashbourne, in this volume.

POEMS.

PREFATORY OBSERVATIONS

TO THE IMITATIONS OF THE

THIRD AND TENTH SATIRES OF JUVENAL.

We will not examine here Johnson's poetical merits, since that discussion will more properly introduce his Lives of the Poets, but merely offer some few biographical remarks. In the poem of London, Mr.

Boswell was of opinion, that Johnson did not allude to Savage, under the name of Thales, and adds, for his reason, that Johnson was not so much as acquainted with Savage when he _wrote_ his London. About a month, however, before he _published_ this poem, he addressed the following lines to him, through the Gentleman's Magazine, for April, 1738.

AD RICARDUM SAVAGE.

Humanani studium generis cui pectore fervet O colat humanum te, foveatque, genus!

We cannot certainly infer, from this, an intimacy with Savage, but it is more probable, that these lines flowed from a feeling of private friends.h.i.+p, than mere admiration of an author, in a public point of view; and they, at any rate, give credibility to the general opinion, that, under the name of Thales, the poet referred to the author of the Wanderer, who was, at this time, preparing for his retreat to Wales, whither he actually went in the ensuing year.

The names of Lydiat, Vane, and Sedley, which are brought forward in the poem on the Vanity of Human Wishes, as examples of inefficiency of either learning or beauty, to s.h.i.+eld their possessors from distress, have exercised inquiry. The following is the best account of them we can collect:

THOMAS LYDIAT was born in 1572. After pa.s.sing through the studies of the university of Oxford, with applause, he was elected fellow of New college; but his defective utterance induced him to resign his fellows.h.i.+p, in order to avoid entering holy orders, and to live upon a small patrimony. He was highly esteemed by the accomplished and unfortunate prince Henry, son of James the first. But his hopes of provision in that quarter were blasted by that prince's premature death; and he then accompanied the celebrated Usher into Ireland. After two or three years, he returned to England, and poverty induced him now to accept the rectory of Okerton, near Banbury, which he had before declined. Here he imprudently became security for the debts of a relation, and, being unable to pay, was imprisoned for several years. He was released, at last, by his patron, Usher, sir W. Boswell, Dr. Pink, then warden of New college, and archbishop Laud, to whom he showed his grat.i.tude by writing in defence of his measures of church-government. He now applied to Charles the first for his protection and encouragement to travel into the east, to collect MSS. but the embarra.s.sed state of the king's affairs prevented his pet.i.tion from receiving attention. Lastly, his well-known attachment to the royal cause drew upon him the repeated violence of the parliament troops, who plundered, imprisoned, and abused him, in the most cruel manner. He died in obscurity and indigence, in 1646. A stone was laid over his grave in Okerton church, in 1669, by the society of New college, who also erected an honorary monument to his memory in the cloisters of their college. We have dwelt thus long on Lydiat's name, because, when this poem was published, it was a subject of inquiry, who Lydiat was, though some of his contemporaries, both in England and on the continent, ranked him with lord Bacon, in mathematical and physical knowledge. For a more detailed account, see Chalmers' Biographical Dictionary, vol. xxi. whence the above facts have been extracted, and Gentleman's Magazine, vol. lxviii. GALILEO, and his history, are too well known to require a note in this place.

The VANE, who told, "what ills from beauty spring," was not Lady Vane, the subject of Smollett's memoirs, in Peregrine Pickle, but, according to Mr. Malone, she was Anne Vane, mistress to Frederick prince of Wales, and died in 1736, not long before Johnson settled in London. Some account of her was published, under the t.i.tle of the Secret History of Vanella, 8vo. 1732, and in other similar works, referred to in Boswell, i. 173. In Mr. Boswell's Tour to the Hebrides, we find lord Hailes objecting to the instances of unfortunate beauties selected by Johnson, and suggesting, in place of Vane and Sedley, the names of Sh.o.r.e and Valiere.

CATHERINE SEDLEY was daughter of sir Charles Sedley, mistress of king James the second, who created her countess of Dorchester. She was a woman of a sprightly and agreeable wit, which could charm without the aid of beauty, and longer maintain its power. She had been the king's mistress before he ascended the throne, and soon after (January 2, 1685-6) was created countess of Dorchester. Sir C. Sedley, her father, looked on this t.i.tle, as a splendid indignity, purchased at the expense of his daughter's honour; and when he was very active against the king, about the time of the revolution, he said, that, in grat.i.tude, he should do his utmost to make his majesty's daughter a queen, as the king had made his own a countess. The king continued to visit her, which gave great uneasiness to the queen, who employed her friends, particularly the priests, to persuade him to break off the correspondence. They remonstrated with him on the guilt of the commerce, and the reproach it would bring on the catholic religion; she, on the contrary, employed the whole force of her ridicule against the priests and their counsels.

They, at length, prevailed, and he is said to have sent her word to retire to France, or that her pension of 4,000_l_. a year should be withdrawn. She then, probably, repented of having been the royal mistress, and "cursed the form that pleased the king."

See Manning and Bray's Surrey, ii. 788. where the countess's issue is also given. See, also, Christian's note on Blackstone's Com. iv. p. 65.

It is remarkable, that when Johnson was asked, at a late period of his life, to whom he had alluded, under the name of Sedley, he said, that he had quite forgotten. See note on Idler, No. 36.--ED.

LONDON; A POEM:

IN IMITATION OF

THE THIRD SATIRE OF JUVENAL

WRITTEN IN 1738.

--Quis ineptae Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se? JUV.

[a]Though grief and fondness in my breast rebel, When injur'd Thales bids the town farewell, Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend, I praise the hermit, but regret the friend; Resolv'd at length, from vice and London far, To breathe, in distant fields, a purer air, And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary sh.o.r.e, Give to St. David one true Briton more.

[b]For who would leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land, Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand?

There none are swept by sudden fate away, But all, whom hunger spares, with age decay: Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire, And now a rabble rages, now a fire; Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, And here the fell attorney prowls for prey; Here falling houses thunder on your head, And here a female atheist talks you dead.

[c]While Thales waits the wherry, that contains Of dissipated wealth the small remains, On Thames's banks, in silent thought, we stood Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood; Struck with the seat that gave Eliza[A] birth, We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth; In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew, And call Britannia's glories back to view; Behold her cross triumphant on the main, The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain, Ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd Or English honour grew a standing jest.

A transient calm the happy scenes bestow, And, for a moment, lull the sense of woe.

At length awaking, with contemptuous frown, Indignant Thales eyes the neighb'ring town.

[d] Since worth, he cries, in these degen'rate days, Wants ev'n the cheap reward of empty praise; In those curs'd walls, devote to vice and gain, Since unrewarded science toils in vain; Since hope but sooths to double my distress, And ev'ry moment leaves my little less; While yet my steady steps no [e]staff sustains, And life, still vig'rous, revels in my veins; Grant me, kind heaven, to find some happier place, Where honesty and sense are no disgrace; Some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play, Some peaceful vale, with nature's paintings gay; Where once the hara.s.s'd Briton found repose, And, safe in poverty, defied his foes; Some secret cell, ye pow'rs, indulgent give, [f]Let--live here, for--has learn'd to live.

Here let those reign, whom pensions can incite To vote a patriot black, a courtier white; Explain their country's dear-bought rights away, And plead for[B] pirates in the face of day; With slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth, And lend a lie the confidence of truth.

[g]Let such raise palaces, and manors buy, Collect a tax, or farm a lottery; With warbling eunuchs fill a [C]licens'd [D]stage, And lull to servitude a thoughtless age.

Heroes, proceed! what bounds your pride shall hold, What check restrain your thirst of pow'r and gold?

Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown, Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives, your own.

To such the plunder of a land is giv'n, When publick crimes inflame the wrath of heaven: [h]But what, my friend, what hope remains for me.

Who start at theft, and blush at perjury?

Who scarce forbear, though Britain's court he sing, To pluck a t.i.tled poet's borrow'd wing; A statesman's logick unconvinc'd can hear.

And dare to slumber o'er the [E]Gazetteer; Despise a fool in half his pension dress'd, And strive, in vain, to laugh at Clodio's jest[F].

[i]Others, with softer smiles, and subtler art, Can sap the principles, or taint the heart; With more address a lover's note convey, Or bribe a virgin's innocence away.

Well may they rise, while I, whose rustick tongue Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong, Spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy, Live unregarded, unlamented die.

[k]For what but social guilt the friend endears?

Who shares Orgilio's crimes, his fortune shares.

[l]But thou, should tempting villany present All Marlb'rough h.o.a.rded, or all Villiers spent, Turn from the glitt'ring bribe thy scornful eye, Nor sell for gold, what gold could never buy, The peaceful slumber, self-approving day, Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay.

[m] The cheated nation's happy fav'rites, see!

Mark whom the great caress, who frown on me!

London! the needy villain's gen'ral home, The common sewer of Paris and of Rome; With eager thirst, by folly or by fate, Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state.

Forgive my transports, on a theme like this, [n]I cannot bear a French metropolis.

[o]Ill.u.s.trious Edward! from the realms of day, The land of heroes and of saints survey; Nor hope the British lineaments to trace, The rustick grandeur, or the surly grace; But, lost in thoughtless ease and empty show, Behold the warriour dwindled to a beau; Sense, freedom, piety, refin'd away, Of France the mimick, and of Spain the prey.

All that at home no more can beg or steal, Or like a gibbet better than a wheel; Hiss'd from the stage, or hooted from the court, Their air, their dress, their politicks, import; [p]Obsequious, artful, voluble and gay, On Britain's fond credulity they prey.

No gainful trade their industry can 'scape, [q]They sing, they dance, clean shoes, or cure a clap: All sciences a fasting Monsieur knows, And, bid him go to h.e.l.l, to h.e.l.l he goes.

[r]Ah! what avails it, that, from slav'ry far, I drew the breath of life in English air; Was early taught a Briton's right to prize, And lisp the tale of Henry's victories; If the gull'd conqueror receives the chain, And flattery prevails, when arms are vain![G]

[s]Studious to please, and ready to submit, The supple Gaul was born a parasite: Still to his int'rest true, where'er he goes, Wit, brav'ry, worth, his lavish tongue bestows; In ev'ry face a thousand graces s.h.i.+ne, From ev'ry tongue flows harmony divine.

[t]These arts in vain our rugged natives try, Strain out, with fault'ring diffidence, a lie, And get a kick[H] for awkward flattery.

Besides, with justice, this discerning age Admires their wondrous talents for the stage: [u]Well may they venture on the mimick's art, Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part; Practis'd their master's notions to embrace, Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face; With ev'ry wild absurdity comply, And view each object with another's eye; To shake with laughter, ere the jest they hear, To pour at will the counterfeited tear; And, as their patron hints the cold or heat.

To shake in dog-days, in December sweat.

[x]How, when compet.i.tors, like these, contend, Can surly virtue hope to fix a friend?

Slaves that with serious impudence beguile, And lie without a blush, without a smile; Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore, Your taste in snuff, your judgment in a wh.o.r.e: Can Balbo's eloquence applaud, and swear, He gropes his breeches with a monarch's air.

For arts, like these, preferr'd, admir'd, caress'd, They first invade your table, then your breast; [y]Explore your secrets with insidious art, Watch the weak hour, and ransack all the heart; Then soon your ill-placed confidence repay, Commence your lords, and govern or betray.

[z]By numbers here from shame or censure free, All crimes are safe, but hated poverty.

This, only this, the rigid law pursues, This, only this, provokes the snarling muse.

The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke; With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways.

[aa]Of all the griefs, that hara.s.s the distress'd, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest; Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart, Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart.

[bb]Has heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor, No pathless waste, or undiscover'd sh.o.r.e?

No secret island in the boundless main?

No peaceful desert, yet unclaim'd by Spain?[I]

Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, And bear oppression's insolence no more.

This mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd, [cc]SLOW RISES WORTH, BY POVERTY DEPRESS'D: But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold, Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold; Where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd, The groom retails the favours of his lord.

But hark! th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries Roll through the streets, and thunder to the skies: Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and pow'r, Some pompous palace, or some blissful bow'r, Aghast you start, and scarce, with aching sight, Sustain th' approaching fire's tremendous light; Swift from pursuing horrours take your way, And leave your little ALL to flames a prey; [dd]Then through the world a wretched vagrant roam; For where can starving merit find a home?

In vain your mournful narrative disclose, While all neglect, and most insult your woes.

[ee]Should heav'n's just bolts Orgilio's wealth confound, [J]And spread his flaming palace on the ground, Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies, And publick mournings pacify the skies; The laureate tribe in venal verse relate, How virtue wars with persecuting fate; [ff]With well-feign'd grat.i.tude the pension'd band Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land.