Life of Johnson
Chapter 3 : 1725: aeTAT. 16.--After having resided for some time at the house of his uncle, Corneliu

1725: aeTAT. 16.--After having resided for some time at the house of his uncle, Cornelius Ford[158], Johnson was, at the age of fifteen, removed to the school of Stourbridge, in Worcesters.h.i.+re, of which Mr. Wentworth was then master. This step was taken by the advice of his cousin, the Reverend Mr. Ford, a man in whom both talents and good dispositions were disgraced by licentiousness[159], 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 a.s.sistant to Mr.

Wentworth, in teaching the younger boys. 'Mr. Wentworth (he told me) 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 grammar-schools. 'At one, I learnt 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 a.s.sistant to the Reverend Samuel Lea, M.A., head master of Newport school, in Shrops.h.i.+re (a very diligent, good teacher, at that time in high reputation, under whom Mr. Hollis[160] is said, in the Memoirs of his Life, to have been also educated[161]). 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 year, and then 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 school-fellow and friend; from which I select the following specimens:

[Page 51: Johnson's youthful compositions.]

_Translation of_ VIRGIL. Pastoral I.

MELIBOEUS.

Now, t.i.tyrus, 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 ease you sing your amorous flame, And the wood rings with Amarillis' name.

t.i.tYRUS.

Those blessings, friend, a deity bestow'd, For I shall never think him less than G.o.d; 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.

MELIBOEUS.

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. )

_Translation of_ HORACE. Book I. Ode xxii.

The man, my friend, whose conscious heart With virtue's sacred ardour glows, Nor taints with death the envenom'd dart, Nor needs the guard of Moorish bows:

Though Scythia's icy cliffs he treads, Or horrid Africk's faithless sands; Or where the fam'd Hydaspes spreads His liquid wealth o'er barbarous lands.

For while by Chloe's image charm'd, Too far in Sabine woods I stray'd; Me singing, careless and unarm'd, A grizly wolf surprised, and fled.

No savage more portentous stain'd Apulia's s.p.a.cious 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 deny'd to human race; I'll sing of Chloe's charms divine, Her heav'nly 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 sh.o.r.es 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 h.o.a.ry 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.

_Translation of part of the Dialogue between_ HECTOR _and_ ANDROMACHE; _from the Sixth Book of_ HOMER'S ILIAD.

She ceas'd: then G.o.dlike Hector answer'd kind, (His various plumage sporting in the wind) That post, and all the rest, shall be my care; But shall I, then, forsake the unfinished war?

How would the Trojans brand great Hector's name!

And one base action sully all my fame, Acquired by wounds and battles bravely fought!

Oh! how my soul abhors so mean a thought.

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 h.o.a.ry 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, Mimick 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 b.l.o.o.d.y sand.

_To a_ YOUNG LADY _on her_ BIRTH-DAY[162].

This tributary verse receive my fair, Warm with an ardent lover's fondest pray'r.

May this returning day for ever find Thy form more lovely, more adorn'd thy mind; All pains, all cares, may favouring heav'n 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!

O then, when conquered crouds 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, Shewn in the faithful gla.s.s of ridicule; Teach mimick censure her own faults to find, ) No more let coquettes to themselves be blind, ) So shall Belinda's charms improve mankind. )

THE YOUNG AUTHOUR[163].

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 s.h.i.+ne.

Joys insincere! thick clouds invade the skies, Loud roar the billows, high the waves arise; Sick'ning with fear, he longs to view the sh.o.r.e, And vows to trust the faithless deep no more.

So the young Authour, panting after fame, And the long honours of a lasting name, Entrusts his happiness to human kind, More false, more cruel, than the seas or wind.

'Toil on, dull croud, in extacies he cries, For wealth or t.i.tle, perishable prize; While I those transitory blessings scorn, Secure of praise from ages yet unborn.'

This thought once form'd, all council 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[164] once, and Ogilby's[165]: The pamphlet spreads, incessant hisses rise, To some retreat the baffled writer flies; Where no sour criticks 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.

EPILOGUE, _intended to have been spoken by a_ LADY _who was to personate the Ghost of_ HERMIONE[166].

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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s, 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 horrour 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 exil'd 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: Where e'er they fly their lover's ghosts pursue, Inflicting all those ills which once they knew; Vexation, Fury, Jealousy, Despair, Vex ev'ry eye, and every bosom tear; Their foul deformities by all descry'd, No maid to flatter, and no paint to hide.

Then melt, ye fair, while crouds around you sigh, Nor let disdain sit lowring in your eye; With pity soften every awful grace, And beauty smile auspicious in each face; To ease their pains exert your milder power, So shall you guiltless reign, and all mankind adore.'