"LIFE OF SAVAGE."

31

manliest English: his whole soul has gone into the work and there breathes through every page of it that divine charity which hides the multitude of sins. The world may pronounce what verdict it chooses upon poor Savage's character and conduct; but the most carping critic must admit that Johnson's biography of his friend is one of the finest pieces of special pleading, whatever else, to be found in any language: and by those of us who think we can see deep into its inner spirit, it will ever be held as a kind of sacred work. It was a labour of pure love; is full of the richest moral reflections; and reads like a romance-for Savage's career was a romance in real life.

Johnson had been drawn towards this wild son of genius several years before; for, in the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1738, we find the following lines :—

"Ad RICARDUM SAVAGE.

"Humani studium generis cui pectore fervet

O colat humanum te foveatque genus."

Thee, in whose breast there burns a passion for the human race,
O may the human race honour and cherish.

So it appears that the fine eye of Johnson-the eye of a pure heart-had discerned in this abandoned man some little germ of that "Enthusiasm of Humanity" which in our time is beginning to be called Divine; upon that he had thrown himself entirely; his faith in goodness had triumphed over all his friend's wild excesses; and he had believed in him to the last. "Those are no proper judges of Savage's conduct," his biographer writes at the close of his work, "who have slumbered away their time on the down of plenty; nor will any wise man presume to say, 'Had I been in Savage's condition, I should have lived or written better than Savage." "See how yon justice rails upon yon simple thief. Hark! in thine ear: Change places; and, handy-dandy, which is the justice, which is the thief?"

"This relation," our Author continues, "will not be wholly without its use, if those who languish under any part of Savage's sufferings shall be enabled to fortify their patience by reflecting that they feel only those afflictions from which the abilities of

32

"LIFE OF SAVAGE."

Savage did not exempt him; or those who, in confidence of superior capacities or attainments, disregarded the common maxims of life, shall be reminded that nothing will supply the want of prudence; and that negligence and irregularity long continued will make knowledge useless, wit ridiculous, and genius contemptible." Could anything be fairer or kindlier than this? Altogether, this strange fellowship between two men so unlike each other is one of the most beautiful little pictures which it is given to the literary historian to draw, and awakens in the thoughtful reader's mind many reflections.

Strange times these two must often have spent together; frequently they were in such extremities of poverty that they could not pay for a bed, and had to wander whole nights in the streets. A Republic of Letters and its Head without a home! Nor can we console ourselves with the thought that these were the only two literary men who ever had to take to the London streets for the same sorrowful reasons. There were many others as destitute of money and shelter on those very same nights. "Sir," said Johnson once, "I honour Derrick for his presence of mind. One night, when Floyd, another poor author, was wandering about the streets in the night, he found Derrick fast asleep upon a bulk ; upon being suddenly waked, Derrick started up, My dear Floyd, I am sorry to see you in this destitute state; will you come home with me to my lodgings?'" His lodgings-poor fellow! To such miserable chances were authors exposed a hundred years ago.

Yet, in these aimless nocturnal rambles, the two friends with whom we are chiefly concerned at present were not always downcast; for, on one of the homeless nights in particular, we are told they traversed St. James's Square for several hours, cursing the prime minister, and resolving "they would stand by their country!" But there cannot have been much mirth in this wild excitement and, although it is good to know that there were such episodes in Johnson's life, it is far from pleasant to meditate upon them.

Soon after Savage's Life was published, a gentleman who had recently dined with Cave and praised the book, was thus accosted

"LIFE OF SAVAGE."

33

by his late host: "You made a man very happy t'other day.""How could that be?" said the gentleman; "nobody was there but ourselves." Cave answered, by reminding him that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, which was to Johnson, dressed so shabbily that he did not choose to appear; but on hearing the conversation, he was highly delighted with the encomiums on his book.

The "Life of Savage" was composed at a heat; Johnson himself said, "I wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages at a sitting; but then I sat up all night." He writes quickly whose pen is guided by love. The work at once met with the success it deserved. Sir Joshua Reynolds, who did not then know Johnson, began to read it, standing with his arm against a mantelpiece; he was taken prisoner on the spot, and could not lay the book down until he had read to the end, when he found his arm quite benumbed.

It is curious that one should feel tempted to linger over a chapter like this, even more fondly than over the most flourishing pages in any history. It is perhaps the very saddest in the long career of a man who never lay very soft in this world of ours; yet that determined clinging to poor Savage, believing against all reason, and hoping against all expectation, is so beautiful in its pathos that, if one could have been permitted to re-cast Johnson's whole life-drama, it would have seemed a great mistake to strike out this tragic scene.

"There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out."

D

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THE WORST OVER.

CHAPTER V.

THE WORST OVER-DICTIONARY BEGUN-" IRENE ON
THE STAGE.

(1745-1749.)

IN 1745, Johnson published a pamphlet entitled, "Miscellaneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth, with remarks on Sir Thomas Hanmer's Edition of Shakespeare." To this he affixed proposals for a new edition of the great dramatist. But the proposals were coldly received, Bishop Warburton being known to be engaged in a similar work. The pamphlet, however, was highly admired, and praised by Warburton himself. Johnson ever afterwards felt kindly towards the Bishop for this friendly notice: "he praised me at a time when praise was of value to me."

No further account of Johnson's literary doings during the years 1745 and 1746 has been left; but it is probable that he was drawing the plan of his Dictionary in this interval of silence. He is said also to have, at this time, contemplated a "Life of Alfred the Great," of which he talked with enthusiasm.

In 1747, his old friend, David Garrick, having obtained a share in the management of Drury Lane Theatre, Johnson honoured the opening night with a Prologue. The lines on Shakespeare are very much below the mark; but those on Ben Jonson and the wits of Charles's reign are admirable and well worth quoting :—

"Then Jonson came, instructed from the school,

To please in method, and invent by rule;

His studious patience and laborious art,

By regular approach essayed the heart;

Cold approbation gave the lingering bays,

For those who durst not censure, scarce could praise.

DICTIONARY BEGUN.

A mortal born, he met the general doom,
But left, like Egypt's kings, a lasting tomb.

The wits of Charles found easier ways to fame,
Nor wished for Jonson's art, or Shakespeare's flame;
Themselves they studied, as they felt they writ,
Intrigue was plot, obscenity was wit.

Vice always found a sympathetic friend;
They pleased their age, and did not aim to mend.

Their cause was general, their supports were strong,
Their slaves were willing, and their reign was long;
Till shame regained the post that sense betrayed,
And virtue called oblivion to her aid."

35

There is a world of sound criticism, high morality, antithetic point, and strong sense in lines like these.

But the event of 1747, so far as Johnson is concerned, was the publication of his "Plan of the Dictionary of the English Language." He must have been brooding over this herculean work for many years; "it was not the effect of particular study," he said, "it had grown up in his mind insensibly." All great things are thus unnoticed in their beginnings; there is no noise made about the first sprouting of the corn; the mightiest ocean-storm receives its earliest impulse from a scarcely felt little breath of wind far out at sea. "Our consciousness rarely registers the beginning of a growth within us any more than without us; there have been many circulations of the sap before we detect the smallest sign of the bud." Several years before this time, when Johnson was one day sitting in Robert Dodsley's shop, the bookseller had suggested to him that a Dictionary of the English language might be expected to do well. Johnson had eagerly caught at the idea, but, pausing a little, had added, in his abrupt emphatic way, "I believe I shall not undertake it." The probability is, that Johnson nevertheless took the hint; and the two previous years of almost total silence may have been spent in elaborating the idea of the work and gathering in details.

Five firms of booksellers agreed to take the huge scheme in hand, and to give Johnson 15757. for his share of the work; but our Author was to pay the expense of preparing it for the press