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and negligence; for he would beat a boy of being whipped, and gets his task, and there's equally for not knowing a thing, as for neglect-¦ an end on't; whereas, by exciting emulation and ing to know it. He would ask a boy a ques-comparisons of superiority, you lay the foundation, and if he did not answer it, he would beat, tion of lasting mischief; you make brothers him, without considering whether he had an and sisters hate each other." opportunity of knowing how to answer it. For When Johnson saw some young ladies in instance, he would call up a boy and ask him Lincolnshire who were remarkably well beLatin for a candlestick, which the boy could haved, owing to their mother's strict discipline not expect to be asked. Now, sir, if a boy and severe correction, he exclaimed, in one of could answer every question, there would be, Shakspeare's lines a little varied, no need of a master to teach him."

It is, however, but justice to the memory of Mr. Hunter to mention, that though he might err in being too severe, the school of Lichfield was very respectable in his time. The late Dr. Taylor, prebendary of Westminster, who, was educated under him, told me, that he was an excellent master, and that his ushers were most of them men of eminence; that Holbrook', one of the most ingenious men, best scholars, and best preachers of his age, was usher during the greatest part of the time that Johnson was at school. Then came Hague, of whom as much might be said, with the addition that he was an elegant poet. Hague was suc-, ceeded by Green, afterwards bishop of Lincoln, whose character in the learned world is well known. In the same form with Johnson was Congreve, who afterwards became chaplain to Archbishop Boulter, and by that connection obtained good preferment in Ireland. He was a younger son of the ancient family of Congreve, in Staffordshire, of which the poet was a branch. His brother sold the estate. There was also Lowe, afterwards canon of Windsor." 4

Indeed, Johnson was very sensible how much he owed to Mr. Hunter. Mr. Langton one day asked him, how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge of Latin, in which, I be lieve, he was exceeded by no man of his time: he said, "My master whipt me very well. Without that, sir, I should have done nothing." He told Mr. Langton, that while Hunter was flogging his boys unmercifully, he used to say, "And this I do to save you from the gallows.", Johnson, upon all occasions, expressed his approbation of enforcing instruction by means of the rods: "I would rather," said he, "have the rod to be the general terror to all, to make them learn, than tell a child, if you do thus or thus, you will be more esteemed than your brothers or sisters. The rod produces an effect which terminates in itself. A child is afraid,

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* Rod, I will honour thee for this thy duty.”

That superiority over his fellows, which he maintained with so much dignity in his march through life, was not assumed from vanity and ostentation, but was the natural and constant effect of those extraordinary powers of mind, of which he could not but be conscious by comparison; the intellectual difference, which in other cases of comparison of characters is often a matter of undecided contest, being as clear in his case as the superiority of stature in some men above others. Johnson did not strut or stand on tip-toe: he only did not stoop. From his earliest years, his superiority was perceived and acknowledged. He was from the beginning "Avat avecar, a king of men. His schoolfellow, Mr. Hector, has obligingly furnished me with many particulars of his boyish days; and assured me that he never knew him corrected at school, but for talking and diverting other boys from their business. He seemed to learn by intuition; for though indolence and procrastination were inherent in his constitution, whenever he made an exertion he did more than any one else. In short, he is a memorable instance of what has been often observed, that the boy is the man in miniature; and that the distinguishing characteristics of each individual are the same, through the whole course of life. His favourites used to receive very liberal assistance from him; and such was the submission and deference with which he was treated, such the desire to obtain his regard, that three of the boys, of whom Mr. Hector was sometimes one, used to come in the morning as his humble attendants, and carry him to school. One in the middle stooped, while he sat upon his back, and one on each side supported him; and thus he was borne triumphant. Such a proof of the early predominance of intellectual vigour is very remarkable, and does honour to human nature. 9 Talking to me once himself of his being much

Parker, and Chief Justice Wilmot were educated at this se-
minary.- ANDERSON.

See post, towards the end of 1775. — Croker.
Probably the sisters of his friend Mr. Langton.-CROKER.
7 More than a little. This line is in King Henry VI., Part
II. act iv. sc. last:-

"Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed."— MALONE.

This is not consistent with Johnson's own statement, to Mr. Langton suprà.—CreKER.

9 Doctor Anderson, in his life of Johnson, suggests that this boyish mastery was obtained more probably by corporeal thaa intellectual vigour.- CROKER.

distinguished at school, he told me, "They never thought to raise me by comparing me to any one; they never said, Johnson is as good a scholar as such a one, but such a one is as good a scholar as Johnson; and this was said but of one, but of Lowe; and I do not think he was as good a scholar.”

He discovered a great ambition to excel, which roused him to counteract his indolence. He was uncommonly inquisitive; and his memory was so tenacious, that he never forgot any thing that he either heard or read. Mr. Hector remembers having recited to him eighteen verses, which, after a little pause, he repeated verbatim, varying only one epithet, by which he improved the line.

He never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions; his only amusement was in winter, when he took a pleasure in being drawn upon the ice by a boy barefooted, who pulled him along by a garter fixed round him; no very easy operation, as his size was remarkably large. His defective sight, indeed, pre- | vented him from enjoying the common sports; and he once pleasantly remarked to me, "how wonderfully well he had contrived to be idle without them." Lord Chesterfield, however, has justly observed in one of his letters, when earnestly cautioning a friend against the pernicious effects of idleness, that active sports are not to be reckoned idleness in young people; and that the listless torpor of doing nothing alone deserves that name. Of this dismal inertness of disposition, Johnson had all his life too great a share. Mr. Hector relates, that "he could not oblige him more than by sauntering away the hours of vacation in the fields, during which he was more engaged in talking |to himself than to his companion." 1

Dr. Percy, the Bishop of Dromore, who was long intimately acquainted with him, and has preserved a few anecdotes concerning him, regretting that he was not a more diligent collector, informs me, that "when a boy he was immoderately fond of reading romances of chivalry, and he retained his fondness for them

! Mr. Hector's recollections had already been published by Hawkins, but Boswell suppressed a remarkable passage: After a long absence from Lichfield, when he returned I was apprehensive of something wrong in his constitution, which might either impair his intellect, or endanger his life; but, thanks to Almighty God, my fears have proved false.". This absence was, no doubt, his residence at Oxford, on his return from which he had a severe fit of hypochondriacal ness, at Lichfield, in 1729-30.- CROKER.

* Dr. Thomas Percy, the editor of the "Reliques" was born at Bridgenorth, in 1728. In 1782 he was nominated to the see of Dromore; where he died in 1811.- WRIGHT.

In one of his journeys we shall see (27th March, 1776), that he took with him "Il Palmerino d'Inghilterra" in Balian, but then it was for exercise in the language, and he

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Dr. Fosure in the work itself. CROKER.

an eminent physician, was brother of Johnson's Biber.- MALONE. It seems doubtful whether his Christian same was Joseph or Nathaniel: that of his son was Corneha.-CROKER.

Hawkins says that his name was Winkworth, but that, affecting to be of the Strafford family, he assumed that of Westworth.—CROKER.

He is said to be the original of the parson in Hogarth's Mrtnight Modern Conversation.- BOSWELL.

through life; so that," adds his lordship, "spending part of a summer at my parsonage-house in the country, he chose for his regular reading the old Spanish romance of Felixmarte of Hircania3, in folio, which he read quite through. Yet I have heard him attribute to these extravagant fictions that unsettled turn of mind which prevented his ever fixing in any profession."

After having resided for some time at the house of his uncle, Cornelius Ford+, Johnson was, at the age of fifteen, removed to the school of Stourbridge, in Worcestershire, of which Mr. Wentworth5 was then master. This step was taken by the advice of his cousin the Rev. Mr. Ford, a man in whom both talents and good dispositions were disgraced by licentiousness, but who was a very able judge of what' was right. At this school he did not receive so much benefit as was expected. It has been said, that he acted in the capacity of an assistant to Mr. Wentworth, in teaching the younger boys. "Mr. Wentworth," he told me, 66 was a very able man, but an idle man, and to me very severe; but I cannot blame him much. I was then a big boy; he saw I did not reverence him, and that he should get no honour by me. I had brought enough with me to carry me through; and all I should get at his school would be ascribed to my own labour, or to my former master. Yet he taught me a great deal."

He thus discriminated, to Dr. Percy, bishop of Dromore, his progress at his two grammarschools:-"At one, I learned much in the school, but little from the master; in the other, I learnt much from the master, but little in the school."

The Bishop also informs me, that Dr. Johnson's father, before he was received at Stourbridge, applied to have him admitted as a scholar and assistant to the Rev. Samuel Lea, M.A., head master of Newport school, in Shropshire; a very diligent good teacher, at that time in high reputation, under whom Mr. Hollis is said, in the Memoirs of his Life,

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This fact has been doubted, though Johnson himself seems to have believed it (see post, 12 May, 1778), and in his Life of Fenton, admits the blameable levity of his cousin's character. "Ford, a clergyman at that time too well known, whose abilities, instead of furnishing convivial merriment to the voluptuous and dissolute, might have enabled him to excel among the virtuous and the wise." In the Historical Register for 1731, we find, "Died Aug. 22., the Rev. Mr. Ford, well known to the world for his great wit and abilities." And the Gentleman's Magazine of the same date states that he was "esteemed for his polite and agreeable conversation." Mr. Murphy asserts that he was chaplain to Lord Chesterfield, but this was a mistake, arising, as Mr. Peter Cunningham has pointed out to me, from the following passage in the Richardsonia: "When Parson Ford, an infamous fellow, but of much off-hand conversation and wit, besought Lord Chesterfield to carry him over with him as his chaplain when he went ambassador to Holland, he said to him, I would certainly take you, if you had one vice more than you already have.' 'My Lord,' said Ford, I thought I should never be reproached for my deficiency that way.' True,' replied the earl, but if you had still one more, almost worse than all the rest put together, it would hinder these from giving scandal."" p. 225. — CROKER, 1846.

to have been also educated. This application to Mr. Lea was not successful; but Johnson had afterwards the gratification to hear that the old gentleman, who lived to a very advanced age, mentioned it as one of the most memorable events of his life, that "he was very near having that great man for his scholar."

He remained at Stourbridge little more than a year2, and then he returned home, where he may be said to have loitered, for two years, in a state very unworthy his uncommon abilities. He had already given several proofs of his poetical genius, both in his school-exercises and in other occasional compositions. Of these I have obtained a considerable collection, by the favour of Mr. Wentworth, son of one of his masters, and of Mr. Hector, his schoolfellow and friend; from which I select the following specimens:

TRANSLATION OF VIRGIL. Pastoral I.

Melibæus.

Now, Tityrus, you, supine and careless laid, Play on your pipe beneath this beechen shade; While wretched we about the world must roam, And leave our pleasing fields and native home, Here at your case you sing your amorous flame, And the wood rings with Amarillis' name.

Tityrus.

Those blessings, friend, a deity bestow'd,
For I shall never think him less than God:
Oft on his altar shall my firstlings lie,
Their blood the consecrated stones shall dye :
He gave my flocks to graze the flowery meads,
And me to tune at ease th' unequal reeds.
Melibæus.

My admiration only I exprest

(No spark of envy harbours in my breast),
That, when confusion o'er the country reigns,
To you alone this happy state remains.

Here I, though faint myself, must drive my goats,
Far from their ancient fields and humble cots.
This scarce I lead, who left on yonder rock
Two tender kids, the hopes of all the flock.
Had we not been perverse and careless grown,
This dire event by omens was foreshown;
Our trees were blasted by the thunder stroke,
And left-hand crows, from an old hollow oak,
Foretold the coming evil by their dismal croak.

For while by Chloe's image charm'd,
Too far in Sabine woods I stray'd;
Me singing, careless and unarm'd,

A grizzly wolf surprised, and fled.

No savage more portentous stain'd
Apulia's spacious wilds with gore;
No fiercer Juba's thirsty land,

Dire nurse of raging lions, bore.
Place me where no soft summer gale

Among the quivering branches sighs; Where clouds condens'd for ever veil With horrid gloom the frowning skies: Place me beneath the burning line,

A clime denied to human race: I'll sing of Chloe's charms divine,

Her heavenly voice and beauteous face.

TRANSLATION OF HORACE. Book II. Ode ix. CLOUDS do not always veil the skies,

Nor showers immerse the verdant plain; Nor do the billows always rise,

Or storms afflict the ruffled main.

Nor, Valgius, on th' Armenian shores Do the chain'd waters always freeze; Not always furious Boreas roars,

Or bends with violent force the trees.

But you are ever drown'd in tears,

For Mystes dead you ever mourn;
No setting Sol can ease your care,
But finds you sad at his return.

The wise experienc'd Grecian sage
Mourn'd not Antilochus so long;
Nor did King Priam's hoary age

So much lament his slaughter'd son.

Leave off, at length, these woman's sighs, Augustus' numerous trophies sing; Repeat that prince's victories,

To whom all nations tribute bring.

Niphates rolls an humbler wave,

At length the undaunted Scythian yields, Content to live the Roman's slave,

And scarce forsakes his native fields.

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Long since I learn'd to slight this fleeting breath,
And view with cheerful eyes approaching death.
The inexorable sisters have decreed

That Priam's house and Priam's self shall bleed:
The day will come in which proud Troy shall yield,
And spread its smoking ruins o'er the field.
Yet Hecuba's, nor Priam's hoary age,

Whose blood shall quench some Grecian's thirsty rage,

Nor my brave brothers, that have bit the ground,
Their souls dismiss'd through many a ghastly wound,
Can in my bosom half that grief create,
As the sad thought of your impending fate :
When some proud Grecian dame shall tasks impose,
Mimic your tears, and ridicule your woes;
Beneath Hyperia's waters shall you sweat,
And, fainting, scarce support the liquid weight:
Then shall some Argive loud insulting cry,
Behold the wife of Hector, guard of Troy !
Tears, at my name, shall drown those beauteous eyes,
And that fair bosom heave with rising sighs.
Before that day, by some brave hero's hand,
May I lie slain, and spurn the bloody sand!

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Sick'ning with fear, he longs to view the shore,
And vows to trust the faithless deep no more.
So the young Author, panting after fame,
And the long honours of a lasting name,
Intrusts his happiness to human kind,
More false, more cruel, than the seas or wind.
Toil on, dull crowd," in ecstasies he cries,
"For wealth or title, perishable prize;
"While I those transitory blessings scorn,
"Secure of praise from ages yet unborn."
This thought once form'd, all counsel comes too late,
He flies to press, and hurries on his fate;
Swiftly he sees the imagin'd laurels spread,
And feels the unfading wreath surround his head.
Warn'd by another's fate, vain youth, be wise,
Those dreams were Settle's once, and Ogilby's.

The pamphlet spreads, incessant hisses rise,
To some retreat the baffled writer flies;
Where no sour critics snarl, no sneers molest,
Safe from the tart lampoon and stinging jest;
There begs of Heaven a less distinguish'd lot,
Glad to be hid, and proud to be forgot.

To A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTHDAY.'

THIS tributary verse receive, my fair, Warm with an ardent lover's fondest prayer. May this returning day for ever find Thy form more lovely, more adorn'd thy mind; All pains, all cares, may favouring Heaven remove, All but the sweet solicitudes of love! May powerful nature join with grateful art, To point each glance, and force it to the heart! Oh then, when conquer'd crowds confess thy sway, When ev'n proud wealth and prouder wit obey, My fair, be mindful of the mighty trust, Alas! 'tis hard for beauty to be just. Those sovereign charms with strictest care employ; Nor give the generous pain, the worthless joy: With his own form acquaint the forward fool, Shown in the faithful glass of ridicule; Teach mimic censure her own faults to find, No more let coquettes to themselves be blind, So shall Belinda's charms improve mankind.

THE YOUNG AUTHOR.

WHEN first the peasant, long inclin'd to roam, Forsakes his rural sports and peaceful home, Pleas'd with the scene the smiling ocean yields, He scorns the verdant meads and flow'ry fields; Then dances jocund o'er the watery way, While the breeze whispers, and the streamers play: Unbounded prospects in his bosom roll, And future millions lift his rising soul; In blissful dreams he digs the golden mine, And raptur'd sees the new-found ruby shine. Joys insincere! thick clouds invade the skies, Loud roar the billows, high the waves arise;

1 Mr. Hector informs me that this was made almost imprompt in his presence. — Boswell.

This he inserted, with many alterations, in the Gentleman's Magazine, 1743, p. 378. BOSWELL. He, however, did not add his name.- MALONE.

EPILOGUE INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SPOKEN BY A LADY WHO WAS TO PERSONATE THE GHOST OF HERMIONE.3

YE blooming train, who give despair or joy, Bless with a smile, or with a frown destroy In whose fair cheeks destructive Cupids wait, And with unerring shafts distribute fate; Whose snowy breasts, whose animated eyes, Each youth admires, though each admirer dies; Whilst you deride their pangs in barb'rous play, Unpitying see them weep, and hear them pray, And unrelenting sport ten thousand lives away; For you, ye fair, I quit the gloomy plains, Where sable night in all her horror reigns; No fragrant bowers, no delightful glades, Receive the unhappy ghosts of scornful maids. For kind, for tender nymphs the myrtle blooms, And weaves her bending boughs in pleasing glooms: Perennial roses deck each purple vale, And scents ambrosial breathe in every gale: Far hence are banish'd vapours, spleen, and tears, Tea scandal, ivory teeth, and languid airs: No pug, nor favourite Cupid there enjoys The balmy kiss, for which poor Thyrsis dies; Form'd to delight, they use no foreign arms, Nor torturing whalebones pinch them into charms; No conscious blushes there their cheeks inflame, For those who feel no guilt can know no shame ; Unfaded still their former charms they shew, Around them pleasures wait, and joys for ever new. But cruel virgins meet severer fates; Expell'd and exiled from the blissful seats, To dismal realms, and regions void of peace, Where furies ever howl, and serpents hiss. O'er the sad plains perpetual tempests sigh, And pois'nous vapours black'ning all the sky, With livid hue the fairest face o'ercast, And every beauty withers at the blast:

3 Some young ladies at Lichfield having proposed to act The Distressed Mother," Johnson wrote this, and gave it to Mr. Hector to convey it privately to them.BOSWELL.

Where'er they fly their lovers' ghosts pursue,
Inflicting all those ills which once they knew;
Vexation, Fury, Jealousy, Despair,
Vex ev'ry eye, and ev'ry bosom tear;
Their foul deformities by all descried,
No maid to flatter, and no paint to hide.
Then melt, ye fair, while clouds around you sigh,
Nor let disdain sit louring in your eye;
With pity soften every awful grace,

He

And beauty smile auspicious in each face; To ease their pains exert your milder power, So shall you guiltless reign, and all mankind adore. The two years which he spent at home, after his return from Stourbridge, he passed in what he thought idleness, and was scolded by his father for his want of steady application." had no settled plan of life, nor looked forward at all, but merely lived from day to day. Yet he read a great deal in a desultory manner, without any scheme of study, as chance threw books in his way, and inclination directed him through them. He used to mention one curious instance of his casual reading, when but a boy. Having imagined that his brother had hid some apples behind a large folio upon an upper shelf in his father's shop, he climbed up to search for them. There were no apples; but the large folio proved to be Petrarch, whom he had seen mentioned, in some preface, as one of the restorers of learning. His curiosity having been thus excited, he sat down with avidity and read a great part of the book.2 What he read during these two years, he told me, was not works of mere amusement, "not voyages and travels, but all literature, Sir, all ancient writers, all manly; though but little Greek, only some of Anacreon and Hesiod: but in this irregular manner," added he, "I had looked into a great many books, which were not commonly known at the universities, where they seldom read any books but what are put into their hands by their tutors; so that when I came to Oxford, Dr. Adams, now master of Pembroke College, told me, I was the best qualified for the university that he had ever known come there."

In estimating the progress of his mind during these two years, as well as in future periods of his life, we must not regard his own hasty confession of idleness; for we see, when he explains himself, that he was acquiring various stores; and, indeed, he himself concluded the account with saying, "I would not have you think I

1 He probably helped his father in his business. Hawkins heard him say that he himself was able to bind a book, and Dr. Harwood showed me a pocket-book with a parchment cover, said to have been bound by hin. - CROKER.

2 Probably, the folio edition of Petrarch's Opera Omnia extant, Bas. 1554; which contain both his Latin and Italian works: this accident may have led to Johnson's early though probably slight acquaintance with Italian. (See post, p. 31. n. 4.) CROKER.

3 Hawkins says that "A neighbouring gentleman, Mr. Andrew Corbett, having a son, who had been educated in the same school with Johnson, whom he was about to send to Pembroke College, in Oxford, a proposal was made and accepted, that Johnson should attend his son thither in quality of assistant in his studies: " but the indisputable dates of Corbett's college life do not tally with the accounts

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was doing nothing then." He might, perhaps, have studied more assiduously; but it may be doubted, whether such a mind as his was not more enriched by roaming at large in the fields of literature, than if it had been confined to any single spot. The analogy between body and mind is very general, and the parallel will hold as to their food, as well as any other particular. The flesh of animals who feed excursively is allowed to have a higher flavour than that of those who are cooped up. May there not be the same difference between men

who read as their taste prompts, and men who are confined in cells and colleges to stated tasks?

--

CHAPTER III. 1728-1731.

Enters Pembroke College, Oxford.— His College Life. -The "Morbid Melancholy" increases. -Translates Pope's Messiah.—Course of Reading.—Quits College.

THAT a man in Mr. Michael Johnson's circumstances should think of sending his son to the expensive university of Oxford, at his own charge, seems very improbable. The subject was too delicate to question Johnson upon : but I have been assured by Dr. Taylor, that the scheme never would have taken place, had not a gentleman of Shropshire, one of his schoolfellows, spontaneously undertaken to support him at Oxford, in the character of his companion; though, in fact, he never received any assistance whatever from that gentleman. 3

He, however, went to Oxford, and was entered a commoner of Pembroke College, on the 31st of October, 1728, being then in his nineteenth year.

The Reverend Dr. Adams, who afterwards presided over Pembroke College with universal esteem, told me he was present, and gave me some account of what passed on the night of Johnson's arrival at Oxford. On that evening, his father, who had anxiously accompanied him, found means to have him introduced to Mr. Jorden, who was to be his tutor. His being put under any tutor, reminds us of what Wood says of Robert Burton, author of the "Anatomy of Melancholy," when elected student of Christ

of either Boswell or Hawkins. Corbett was of the University twenty months before and twelve or thirteen months after Johnson. And, on reference to the college books, it appears that Corbett's residence was so irregular, and so little coincident with Johnson's, that there is no reason to suppose that Johnson was employed either as the private tutor of Corbett, as Hawkins states, or his companion, as Boswell suggests. Much more probable is the statement made in the Memoirs before mentioned, that his godfather Dr. Swinfen and some other gentlemen of the neighbourhood contributed to send him to Oxford. This is corroborated by the facts of his having been sent to Dr. Swinfen's own college, and of his constant and generous protection of Mrs. Desmoulins, Dr. Swinfen's daughter, from whom, indeed, the writer of the Memoirs seems to have derived his information.- CROKER.

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