Seward) Mr. Lock[157], of Norbury Park, in Surrey, whose knowledge and taste in the fine arts is universally celebrated; with whose elegance of manners the writer of the present work has felt himself much impressed, and to whose virtues a common friend, who has known him long, and is not much addicted to flattery, gives the highest testimony.
Various Readings in the Life of MILTON.
'I cannot find any meaning but this which [his most bigotted advocates] even kindness and reverence can give.
'[Perhaps no] scarcely any man ever wrote so much, and praised so few.
'A certain [rescue] perservative from oblivion.
'Let me not be censured for this digression, as [contracted] pedantick or paradoxical.
'Socrates rather was of opinion, that what we had to learn was how to [obtain and communicate happiness] do good and avoid evil.
'Its elegance [who can exhibit?] is less attainable.'
I could, with pleasure, expatiate upon the masterly execution of the Life of DRYDEN, which we have seen[158] was one of Johnson's literary projects at an early period, and which it is remarkable, that after desisting from it, from a supposed scantiness of materials, he should, at an advanced age, have exhibited so amply.
His defence[159] of that great poet against the illiberal attacks upon him, as if his embracing the Roman Catholick communion had been a time-serving measure, is a piece of reasoning at once able and candid. Indeed, Dryden himself, in his Hind and Panther, has given such a picture of his mind, that they who know the anxiety for repose as to the aweful subject of our state beyond the grave, though they may think his opinion ill-founded, must think charitably of his sentiment:--
'But, gracious GOD, how well dost thou provide For erring judgements an unerring guide! Thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, A blaze of glory that forbids the sight. O! teach me to believe thee thus conceal'd, And search no farther than thyself reveal'd; But Her alone for my director take, Whom thou hast promis'd never to forsake. My thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires; My manhood long misled by wand'ring fires, Follow'd false lights; and when their glimpse was gone, My pride struck out new sparkles of her own. Such was I, such by Nature still I am; Be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. Good life be now my task: my doubts are done; What more could shock[160] my faith than Three in One?'
In drawing Dryden's character, Johnson has given, though I suppose unintentionally, some touches of his own. Thus:--'The power that predominated in his intellectual operations was rather strong reason than quick sensibility. Upon all occasions that were presented, he studied rather than felt; and produced sentiments not such as Nature enforces, but meditation supplies. With the simple and elemental passions as they spring separate in the mind, he seems not much acquainted. He is, therefore, with all his variety of excellence, not often pathetick; and had so little sensibility of the power of effusions purely natural, that he did not esteem them in others[161].' It may indeed be observed, that in all the numerous writings of Johnson, whether in prose or verse, and even in his Tragedy, of which the subject is the distress of an unfortunate Princess, there is not a single passage that ever drew a tear[162].
Various Readings in the Life of DRYDEN.
'The reason of this general perusal, Addison has attempted to [find in] derive from the delight which the mind feels in the investigation of secrets.
'His best actions are but [convenient] inability of wickedness.
'When once he had engaged himself in disputation, [matter] thoughts flowed in on either side.
'The abyss of an un-ideal [emptiness] vacancy.
'These, like [many other harlots,] the harlots of other men, had his love though not his approbation.
'He [sometimes displays] descends to display his knowledge with pedantick ostentation.
'French words which [were then used in] had then crept into conversation.'
The Life of POPE[163] was written by Johnson con amore, both from the early possession which that writer had taken of his mind, and from the pleasure which he must have felt, in for ever silencing all attempts to lessen his poetical fame, by demonstrating his excellence, and pronouncing the following triumphant eulogium[164]:--'After all this, it is surely superfluous to answer the question that has once been asked, Whether Pope was a poet? otherwise than by asking in return, If Pope be not a poet, where is poetry to be found? To circumscribe poetry by a definition, will only shew the narrowness of the definer; though a definition which shall exclude Pope will not easily be made. Let us look round upon the present time, and back upon the past; let us enquire to whom the voice of mankind has decreed the wreath of poetry; let their productions be examined, and their claims stated, and the pretensions of Pope will be no more disputed.'
I remember once to have heard Johnson say, 'Sir, a thousand years may elapse before there shall appear another man with a power of versification equal to that of Pope.' That power must undoubtedly be allowed its due share in enhancing the value of his captivating composition.