"Still raise for good the supplicating voice, But leave to Heaven the measure and the choice.

Safe in his power whose eye discerns afar The secret ambush of a specious prayer; Implore his aid, in his decisions rest, Secure whate'er he gives, he gives the best.

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Pour forth thy fervors for a healthful mind, Obedient pa.s.sions, and a will resigned; * * * * *

For faith, that, panting for a happier seat, Counts death kind nature's signal of retreat."

We must note also that famous Prologue, spoken at Drury Lane in 1747, when the theatre came first under control of his old friend, Garrick.

Never had the stage, before nor since, a n.o.bler summons in worthier verse: it closes--

"Then prompt no more the follies you decry, As Tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die: 'Tis yours, this night, to bid the reign commence Of rescued Nature and reviving Sense: To chase the charms of Sound, the pomp of Show, For useful Mirth and salutary Woe: Bid scenic Virtue form the rising age And Truth diffuse her radiance from the Stage."

Garrick must have been proud to act under such banner of song as that.

The tragedy of _Irene_ came to its first representation a short time afterward; and surely it would have been worth one's while to see the stout, awkward gerund-grinder of forty, slipping into a side-box, or even behind {97} the scenes "in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace and a gold-laced hat!" The play, however, did not prove a great success either then or thereafter. The Dictionary, for which proposals had already been issued, promised better things. That Dictionary did ultimately give him a great lift--as it has to a good many, since. The ponderous volume furnished very many New England households seventy years ago; and I can remember sitting upon it, in my child-days, to bring my head properly above the level of the table. An immense and long-continued toil went to the Dictionary. Lord Chesterfield,[25] the finished orator and the elegant man--not unwilling to have so great a work bear his name--called attention to the book and the author, when nearly ready; but Johnson was too sore with hope deferred to catch {98} that bait; he writes an indignant letter (not published until 1790) to the elegant Chesterfield:--

"Seven years have now pa.s.sed, my Lord, since I waited in your outward-rooms, or was repulsed from your door--during which time I have been pushing on my work, thro' difficulties of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication without one act of a.s.sistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favor.... The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labors--had it been early--had been kind; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent and cannot enjoy it; till I am solitary [his wife dead now] and cannot impart it, till I am known and do not want it."

This does not show the stuff which went to the making of such a man as Walpole!

The _Rambler_, too, it must be remembered, is making its periodic visits in those early days of the Dictionary toil. Heavy it is, like the master; and his prejudices as arrant Churchman and st.u.r.dy Tory do indeed break through its piled-up pages; but never insidiously: he sounds a trumpet before he strikes. Perhaps a little over-fond of trumpeting; loving so much his long sonorous roll of Ciceronian vocables.

But I have not the same dislike of long {99} Johnsonian periods that a good many people have--provided always there is a Johnson to utter them. They belong to _him_; they match with their wordy convolutions his great billowy make of mind; and short, sharp sentences would be as incongruous as a little spurting _jet d'eau_ where great waves come rocking on the beach.

In fact, I have a large unbelief in much of current pedagogic talk about style, and "getting a good style," and "reforming style," and "Saxon style," and so on. To be thoroughly possessed of one's own thought, and then to tell it, in the clearest possible way, is the best law I know for a good style; and a proper following of it will give to every mind that has any color of its own a style of its own. To putter about the rhetorics in search of fine phrases to wrap your thoughts in, is like going in masquerade; furbish it as you will, people will see the smear of old wear in the tinsel trappings, and smell it too.

If short, homely Saxon will serve one's purpose best in giving sharp, shrewd expression to thought, as most times it will, use Saxon; but if a Latin derivation will hit the very shade of your thinking {100} more aptly, do not affect to scorn the Latin. Even if a French word--provided always it be at once and easily comprehensible by all whom you address--shall touch the very eye of your purpose better than another, do not scruple to use it.

But we must ask pardon for this intrusion of small school-mastery talk, while the great master of the Dictionary and of the _Rambler_ waits.

As yet we have followed him through only half of his career; a stalwart man, still in the full prime of his years; and I see grouping about him at the Turk's Head many another whom we wish to follow; a Boswell and a Burke; Reynolds and Beauclerk and Goldsmith--these all are in waiting.

But for a fuller and nearer view of these old club-men of more than a century ago, we open upon another chapter of these _Lands and Letters_.

[1] Whoso would take measure, of his scholarly thoroughness, his reach, his pertinacity, and his capacity for striking sharp blows, should struggle through his _Dissertation on Phalaris_.

[2] Swift, Addison, Steele, Gay, _et al._, in preceding volume of _Lands, Letters, and Kings_ ("Elizabeth to Anne")

[3] He lived for many years in the _Palazzo Muti_ near to the church of the _SS. Apostoli_, in Rome; his disorderly life there made it a _Regio Palazzo_!

[4] _Lands and Letters_: "From Elizabeth to Anne," p. 100.

[5] _Lands and Letters_: "Elizabeth to Anne."

[6] This is one contemporary account of it--adopted by Thackeray; but Wraxall (1st vol., pp. 384-385 American reprint, Lea & Blanchard) says that the Duke of Dorset was commissioned to carry the news; but some little time being required to make himself ready, the d.u.c.h.ess was sent in advance. She arrived at Kew (where the Prince was staying) just as that Prince had gone to bed, as was his wont, after dinner. The Princess undertook the announcement--though demurring at the duty, and antic.i.p.ating a brutal reception for one who should disturb his after-dinner nap; he was in a huff and _did_ make the comment, noted in the text; but it was not (says Wraxall) to a messenger in jack-boots, but to the Princess of Wales herself.

[7] Richardson: b. 1689; d. 1761. Various editions of his works.

Known quite generally to buyers of cheap books in our day by an abbreviated issue of _Clarissa Harlowe_ (Routledge & Sons).

[8] Henry Fielding: b. 1707; d. 1754. Editions of his works have been edited by Arthur Murphy, William Roscoe, and Leslie Stephen; (10 vols., 1882-1883.) Life by Sir Walter Scott in Ballantyne Library; more trustworthy one is that by Austin Dobson.

[9] It is perhaps to be doubted if the bare-faced coa.r.s.enesses of Fielding (much as they are to be condemned) would provoke pruriency so much as the sentimental and sensuous languors of Richardson.

[10] _History of Pendennis_, Household Ed., Boston: Chap. xxix.

[11] It was in virtue of some altercations growing out of Fielding's plays that British censorship was established in 1737, and (perhaps) Fielding thereby diverted to the study of Law.

[12] James Thomson, b. 1700; d. 1748. Various editions of his poems; a very elegant one, ill.u.s.trated by the Etching Club, published 1842-62.

[13] _The Jubilee of the Const.i.tution_, a discourse delivered by request of the New York Historical Society, April 30, 1839, and repeated shortly after in the old "Ludlow" Church, (now "Dime Theatre"), in Church Street, New Haven.

[14] Thomas Gray, b. 1716; d. 1771. See Gosse's recent biography for critical as well as sympathetic account of his life and writings. See also Mitford's edition of his works, with life, London, 1836.

[15] Horace Walpole, b. 1717; d. 1785. The enumeration of his books, pamphlets, and of t.i.tles relating thereto fill a dozen columns of _Lowndes_. His letters give best measurement of the man.

[16] It purported to be a translation from the Italian of Onuphrio Muralto.

[17] Peter Cunningham Edition. London, 1857-1859. See also _Horace Walpole and His World_, by L. B. Seeley. 1884.

[18] Rev. William Mason, b. 1725; d. 1797; author of _The English Garden_, published at intervals (its successive books) between 1772 and 1782. It has little merit--Walpole to the contrary.

[19] _Wet Days at Edgewood_, p. 239.

[20] Samuel Johnson, b. 1709; d. 1784. Boswell's the standard life of him, and Birkbeck Hill's the best edition of that life. We miss in it, indeed, some of the "Croker" notes, which made such inviting quarry for the sharp huntsmanship of Macaulay. But the editing is done with a love and a tirelessness which are as winning as they are rare. See, also, Leslie Stephen's sketch--which is the best short life.

[21] _Ency. Britannica_; Art. Johnson.

[22] B. 1698; d. 1743. Poet and dramatist. Collected edit. of his writings published in 1775. His largest claim to distinction is due to the _Life of Richard Savage_, by Samuel Johnson; first published 1744.

[23] _Vide_ old edition of _Ency. Britannica_, also Strahan's _Biographical Dictionary_ of 1784; _Biographie Universelle, et al._

[24] See _Notes and Queries_, November and December, 1858.

[25] Philip Dormer Stanhope (Earl of Chesterfield), b. 1694; d. 1773, best known by his _Letters to His Son_, first published in 1774.

Johnson said they taught "the morals of a courtesan, and the manners of a dancing-master." This was perhaps over-severe. People who do not love to disport in fashionable waters are apt to be severe upon those who spend their faculties upon the coquetries of bathing costume.

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CHAPTER III.

It was a little after the middle of the last century that our story opens again. George II., whose virtues and vices were clock-like in their regularities, was on the throne; Queen Caroline, whom he had always abused and always venerated, was in her grave for twelve or more years past. Outside politics were ripening for that French and English war--in which a Montcalm and a Wolfe figured upon our side the water, and which has been put in picturesque array by Francis Parkman; the geraniums and oleanders were blossoming over the Portuguese grave of Harry Fielding; Thomson had sung his last notes in his _Castle of Indolence_ and was laid to rest--not in Kelso, or Dryburgh, where his body should have mouldered--but in a little Richmond Church, within gunshot of the "Star and Garter." {102} Gray was still studying the scholarly measures of the _Bard_, in his beloved Cambridge; Horace Walpole playing the _elegant_ was fattening on his revenues at Strawberry Hill; while Dr. Johnson--notwithstanding the Dictionary and the _Rambler_--had been latterly (1756) in such sore straits as to appeal to his friend Richardson for the loan of a few guineas to save him from jail; and Richardson, fresh then in his triumphs from _Clarissa Harlowe_ and the great _Grandison_, was not slow to grant the request,[1] and to enjoy all the more his Kingship among the women, in his great house out at Hammersmith.