returned, and that of its fellow became as suddenly extinguished. Concerning the particulars of this singular but authenticated event, Dr. Johnson was studiously inquisitive, and not with reference to his own case. Though he never made use of glasses to assist his sight, he said he could recollect no production of art to which man has superior obligations. He mentioned the name of the original inventor (1) of spectacles with reverence, and expressed his wonder that not an individual, out of the multitudes who had profited by them, had, through gratitude, written the life of so great a benefactor to society. 309. Pope's "Messiah." 6 "I have been told, Dr. Johnson," says a friend, 66 that your translation of Pope's Messiah' was made either as a common exercise or as an imposition for some negligence you had been guilty of at college." "No, Sir," replied the Doctor: "at Pembroke the former were always in prose, and to the latter I would not have submitted. I wrote it rather to show the tutors what I could do, than what I was willing should be done. It answered my purpose; for it convinced those who were well enough inclined to punish me, that I could wield a scholar's weapon, as often as I was menaced with arbitrary inflictions. Before the frequency of personal satire had weakened its effect, the petty tyrants of colleges stood in awe of a pointed remark, or a vindictive epigram. But since every man in his turn has been wounded, no man is ashamed of a scar." 310. Ballad Metre. When Dr. Percy first published his collection of ancient English ballads, perhaps he was too lavish in (1) The inventor of spectacles is said to have been a monk at Pisa, who lived at the end of the thirteenth century, and whose name was Spina. commendation of the beautiful simplicity and poetic merit he supposed himself to discover in them. This circumstance provoked Johnson to observe one evening at Miss Reynolds's tea-table, that he could rhyme as well, and as elegantly, in common narrative and conversation. "For instance, says he," "As with my hat upon my head Or, to render mediate use, such poetry subservient to my own im "I therefore pray thee, Renny dear, That thou wilt give to me, With cream and sugar soften'd well, "Nor fear that I, my gentle maid, Have drunk the liquor up. "Yet hear, alas! this mournful truth, Nor hear it with a frown; · Thou canst not make the tea so fast And thus he proceeded through several more stanzas, till the reverend critic cried out for quarter. Such ridicule, however, was unmerited. 311. Night Composition. 66 Night," Mr. Tyers has told us, was Johnson's time for composition." But this assertion, if meant for a general one, can be refuted by living evidence. Al (1) See post, where this anecdote is told in the vague manner and on the imperfect authority of Mr. Cradock. To have deliberately composed and circulated a parody on his friend's poem would have been a very different thing from a sportive improvisation over the tea-table. — C. most the whole Preface to Shakspeare, and no inconsiderable part of the "Lives of the Poets," were composed by daylight, and in a room where a friend (1) was employed by him in other investigations. His studies were only continued through the night, when the day had been preoccupied, or proved too short for his undertakings. Respecting the fertility of his genius, the resources of his learning, and the accuracy of his judgment, the darkness and the light were both alike. 312. Bolingbroke and Mallet. When in his latter years he was reminded of his forcible sarcasm against Bolingbroke and Mallet (2), the Doctor exclaimed, “Did I really say so?" "Yes, Sir." He replied, "I am heartily glad of it." 313. Capel. "You knew Mr. Capel (3), Dr. Johnson?" "Yes, Sir; I have seen him at Garrick's." think of his abilities?" 66 "And what Were you They are just sufficient, Sir, to enable him to select the black hairs from the white ones, for the use of the periwig makers. he and I to count the grains in a bushel of wheat for a wager, he would certainly prove the winner." 314. Collins and Steevens.—Mrs. Johnson's Death. When one Collins, a sleep-compelling divine of Hertfordshire, with the assistance of counsellor Hardinge, published a heavy half-crown pamphlet against Mr. Steevens, Garrick asked the Doctor, what he thought of this attack on his coadjutor. "I regard Collins's performance," replied Johnson, as a great gun without powder or shot." When the same Collins after 66 wards appeared as editor of Capel's posthumous notes on Shakspeare, with a preface of his own, containing the following words, "A sudden and most severe stroke of affliction has left my mind too much distracted to be capable of engaging in such a task (that of a further attack on Mr. Steevens), though I am prompted to it by inclination as well as duty," the Doctor asked to what misfortune the foregoing words referred. Being told that the critic had lost his wife, Johnson added, "I believe that the loss of teeth may deprave the voice of a singer, and that lameness will impede the motions of a dancing master, but I have not yet been taught to regard the death of a wife as the grave of literary exertions. When my dear Mrs. Johnson expired, I sought relief in my studies, and strove to lose the recollection of her in the toils of literature. Perhaps, however, I wrong the feelings of this poor fellow. His wife might have held the pen in his name. Hinc illa lachryma. Nay, I think I observe, throughout his two pieces, a woman's irritability, with a woman's impotence of revenge." Yet such were Johnson's tender remembrances of his own wife, that after her death, though he had a whole house at command, he would study nowhere but in a garret. Being asked the reason why he chose a situation so incommodious, he answered, "Because in that room only I never saw Mrs. Johnson." 315. Frequenting the Theatre. "Though you brought a tragedy, Sir, to Drury Lane, and at one time were so intimate with Garrick, you never appeared to have much theatrical acquaintance." "Sir, while I had, in common with other dramatic authors, the liberty of the scenes, without considering my admission behind them as a favour, I was frequently at the theatre. At that period all the wenches knew me, and dropped me a curtsy, as they passed on to the stage. But since poor Goldsmith's last comedy, I scarce recollect having seen the inside of a playhouse. To speak the truth, there is small encouragement there for a man whose sight and hearing are become so imperfect as mine. I may add, that, Garrick and Henderson excepted, I never met with a performer who had studied his art, or could give an intelligible reason for what he did." (1) 316. Thrale's Table. "Mrs. Thrale," Mr. Tyers reports, "knew how to spread a table with the utmost plenty and elegance ;" but all who are acquainted with this lady's domestic history must know, that, in the present instance, Mr. Tyers's praise of her is unluckily bestowed. Her husband superintended every dinner set before his guests. After his death, she confessed her total ignorance in culinary arrangements. Poor Thrale studied an art of which he loved the produce, and to which he expired a martyr. Johnson repeatedly, and with all the warmth of earnest friendship, assured him he was nimis edax rerum, and that such unlimited indulgence of his palate would precipitate his end. 317. Late Hours. On the night before the publication of the first edition of his Shakspeare, he supped with some friends in the Temple, who kept him up, "nothing loth," till past five the next morning. Much pleasantry was passing on the subject of commentatorship, when, all on a sudden, the Doctor, looking at his watch, cried out, "This is sport to you, gentlemen; but you do not consider there are at most only four hours between me and criticism." The Doctor is known to have been, like Savage, à very late visitor; yet, at whatever hour he returned, he (1) This was probably before his acquaintance with Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, which took place only the year before his death. See antè, Vol. VIII. p. 236. — C. |