Boswell’s Life of Johnson: 116

Edited by Dan Leo, LL.D., Assistant Professor of Children’s and Young Adult Literature; Assistant Women’s Badminton Coach, Olney Community College; author of Bozzie and Dr. Sam: a Mêlée at the Mitre<, the Olney Community College Press.

Art direction by rhoda penmarq (pencils, charcoals, inks, oils and watercolors by eddie el greco; lettering by roy dismas); a  penmarq™ productions production.

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Having set out next day on a visit to the Earl of Pembroke, at Wilton, and to my friend, Mr. Temple, at Mamhead, in Devonshire, and not having returned to town till the second of May, I did not see Dr. Johnson for a considerable time, and during the remaining part of my stay in London, kept very imperfect notes of his conversation, which had I according to my usual custom written out at large soon after the time, much might have been preserved, which is now irretrievably lost. I can now only record some particular scenes, and a few fragments of his memorabilia. On Monday, May 8, we went together and visited the mansions of Bedlam. I had been informed that he had once been there before with Mr. Wedderburne, (now Lord Loughborough,) Mr. Murphy, and Mr. Foote; and I had heard Foote give a very entertaining account of Johnson's happening to have his attention arrested by a man who was very furious, and who, while beating his straw, supposed it was William Duke of Cumberland, whom he was punishing for his cruelties in Scotland, in 1746. There was nothing peculiarly remarkable this day; but the general contemplation of insanity was very affecting. I accompanied him home, and dined and drank tea with him. Talking of an acquaintance of ours, distinguished for knowing an uncommon variety of miscellaneous articles both in antiquities and polite literature, he observed, 'You know, Sir, he runs about with little weight upon his mind.' And talking of another very ingenious gentleman, who from the warmth of his temper was at variance with many of his acquaintance, and wished to avoid them, he said, 'Sir, he leads the life of an outlaw.' On Friday, May 12, as he had been so good as to assign me a room in his house, where I might sleep occasionally, when I happened to sit with him to a late hour, I took possession of it this night, found every thing in excellent order, and was attended by honest Francis with a most civil assiduity. I asked Johnson whether I might go to a consultation with another lawyer upon Sunday, as that appeared to me to be doing work as much in my way, as if an artisan should work on the day appropriated for religious rest. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, when you are of consequence enough to oppose the practice of consulting upon Sunday, you should do it: but you may go now. It is not criminal, though it is not what one should do, who is anxious for the preservation and increase of piety, to which a peculiar observance of Sunday is a great help. The distinction is clear between what is of moral and what is of ritual obligation.' On Saturday, May 13, I breakfasted with him by invitation, accompanied by Mr. Andrew Crosbie, a Scotch Advocate, whom he had seen at Edinburgh, and the Hon. Colonel (now General) Edward Stopford, brother to Lord Courtown, who was desirous of being introduced to him. His tea and rolls and butter, and whole breakfast apparatus were all in such decorum, and his behaviour was so courteous, that Colonel Stopford was quite surprised, and wondered at his having heard so much said of Johnson's slovenliness and roughness.  I have preserved nothing of what passed, except that Crosbie pleased him much by talking learnedly of alchymy, as to which Johnson was not a positive unbeliever, but rather delighted in considering what progress had actually been made in the transmutation of metals, what near approaches there had been to the making of gold; and told us that it was affirmed, that a person in the Russian dominions had discovered the secret, but died without revealing it, as imagining it would be prejudicial to society. He added, that it was not impossible but it might in time be generally known. It being asked whether it was reasonable for a man to be angry at another whom a woman had preferred to him;— JOHNSON. 'I do not see, Sir, that it is reasonable for a man to be angry at another, whom a woman has preferred to him: but angry he is, no doubt; and he is loath to be angry at himself.' Before setting out for Scotland on the 23rd, I was frequently in his company at different places, but during this period have recorded only two remarks: one concerning Garrick: 'He has not Latin enough. He finds out the Latin by the meaning rather than the meaning by the Latin.' And another concerning writers of travels, who, he observed, 'were more defective than any other writers.' I passed many hours with him on the 17th, of which I find all my memorial is, 'much laughing.' It should seem he had that day been in a humour for jocularity and merriment, and upon such occasions I never knew a man laugh more heartily. We may suppose, that the high relish of a state so different from his habitual gloom, produced more than ordinary exertions of that distinguishing faculty of man, which has puzzled philosophers so much to explain. Johnson's laugh was as remarkable as any circumstance in his manner. It was a kind of good humoured growl. Tom Davies described it drolly enough: 'He laughs like a rhinoceros.' (classix comix™ is made possible in part through the sponsorship of Bob’s Bowery Bar, conveniently located on the northwest corner of Bleecker and the Bowery: “Allow me to recommend this week’s ‘blue plate special’ at Bob’s Bowery Bar: Bob’s Mom’s Homemade Head Cheese Soufflé, with a sprinkling of East River Mummichog Roe, served on a bed of fried groats with a side of your choice of crisp coleslaw or wilted organic fiddlehead greens à la vinaigrette – only $3.95 a plate, and goes swell with Bob’s justly renowned basement brewed bock!” – Horace P. 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Boswell’s Life of Johnson: 115

Edited by Dan Leo, LL.D., Associate Professor of Illustrated and Abridged Classics; Assistant Women’s Lacrosse Coach, Olney Community College; author of Bozzie and Dr. Sam: Mrs. Williams Steps Out, the Olney Community College Press.

Artwork and layout personally coördinated by rhoda penmarq (pencils, inks, oils, gouache and watercolors by eddie el greco; lettering by roy dismas) for penmarqiqroniq™ productions.

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Johnson was here solaced with an elegant entertainment, a very accomplished family, and much good company; among whom was Mr. Harris of Salisbury, who paid him many compliments on his Journey to the Western Islands. The common remark as to the utility of reading history being made;—  JOHNSON. 'We must consider how very little history there is; I mean real authentick history. That certain Kings reigned, and certain battles were fought, we can depend upon as true; but all the colouring, all the philosophy of history is conjecture.'  BOSWELL. 'Then, Sir, you would reduce all history to no better than an almanack, a mere chronological series of remarkable events.'  Mr. Gibbon, who must at that time have been employed upon his History, of which he published the first volume in the following year, was present; but did not step forth in defence of that species of writing. He probably did not like to trust himself with JOHNSON! Johnson observed, that the force of our early habits was so great, that though reason approved, nay, though our senses relished a different course, almost every man returned to them. I do not believe there is any observation upon human nature better founded than this; and, in many cases, it is a very painful truth; for where early habits have been mean and wretched, the joy and elevation resulting from better modes of life must be damped by the gloomy consciousness of being under an almost inevitable doom to sink back into a situation which we recollect with disgust. It surely may be prevented, by constant attention and unremitting exertion to establish contrary habits of superiour efficacy. The Beggar's Opera, and the common question, whether it was pernicious in its effects, having been introduced;— JOHNSON. 'As to this matter, which has been very much contested, I myself am of opinion, that more influence has been ascribed to The Beggar's Opera, than it in reality ever had; for I do not believe that any man was ever made a rogue by being present at its representation. At the same time I do not deny that it may have some influence, by making the character of a rogue familiar, and in some degree pleasing.'  Then collecting himself as it were, to give a heavy stroke:  'There is in it such a labefactation of all principles, as may be injurious to morality.' While he pronounced this response, we sat in a comical sort of restraint, smothering a laugh, which we were afraid might burst out.  In his Life of Gay, he has been still more decisive as to the inefficiency of The Beggar's Opera in corrupting society. But I have ever thought somewhat differently; for, indeed, not only are the gaiety and heroism of a highwayman very captivating to a youthful imagination, but the arguments for adventurous depredation are so plausible, the allusions so lively, and the contrasts with the ordinary and more painful modes of acquiring property are so artfully displayed, that it requires a cool and strong judgement to resist so imposing an aggregate: yet, I own, I should be very sorry to have The Beggar's Opera suppressed; for there is in it so much of real London life, so much brilliant wit, and such a variety of airs, which, from early association of ideas, engage, soothe, and enliven the mind, that no performance which the theatre exhibits, delights me more. The late 'worthy' Duke of Queensberry, as Thomson, in his Seasons, justly characterises him, told me, that when Gay first shewed him The Beggar's Opera, his Grace's observation was, 'This is a very odd thing, Gay; I am satisfied that it is either a very good thing, or a very bad thing.'  It proved the former, beyond the warmest expectations of the authour or his friends.  Mr. Cambridge, however, shewed us to-day, that there was good reason enough to doubt concerning its success. He was told by Quin, that during the first night of its appearance it was long in a very dubious state; that there was a disposition to damn it, and that it was saved by the song, 'Oh ponder well! be not severe!' the audience being much affected by the innocent looks of Polly, when she came to those two lines, which exhibit at once a painful and ridiculous image, 'For on the rope that hangs my Dear,  Depends poor Polly's life.’ Quin himself had so bad an opinion of it, that he refused the part of Captain Macheath, and gave it to Walker, who acquired great celebrity by his grave yet animated performance of it. We talked of a young gentleman's marriage with an eminent singer, and his determination that she should no longer sing in publick, though his father was very earnest she should, because her talents would be liberally rewarded, so as to make her a good fortune. It was questioned whether the young gentleman, who had not a shilling in the world, but was blest with very uncommon talents, was not foolishly delicate, or foolishly proud, and his father truely rational without being mean.  Johnson, with all the high spirit of a Roman senator, exclaimed, 'He resolved wisely and nobly to be sure. He is a brave man. Would not a gentleman be disgraced by having his wife singing publickly for hire? No, Sir, there can be no doubt here. I know not if I should not prepare myself for a publick singer, as readily as let my wife be one.' Johnson arraigned the modern politicks of this country, as entirely devoid of all principle of whatever kind. 'Politicks (said he) are now nothing more than means of rising in the world. With this sole view do men engage in politicks, and their whole conduct proceeds upon it. How different in that respect is the state of the nation now from what it was in the time of Charles the First, during the Usurpation, and after the Restoration, in the time of Charles the Second. The nation in general has ever been loyal, has been at all times attached to the monarch, though a few daring rebels have been wonderfully powerful for a time. The murder of Charles the First was undoubtedly not committed with the approbation or consent of the people. Had that been the case, Parliament would not have ventured to consign the regicides to their deserved punishment. And we know what exuberance of joy there was when Charles the Second was restored. If Charles the Second had bent all his mind to it, had made it his sole object, he might have been as absolute as Louis the Fourteenth.' A gentleman observed he would have done no harm if he had. JOHNSON. 'Why, Sir, absolute princes seldom do any harm. But they who are governed by them are governed by chance. There is no security for good government.' CAMBRIDGE. 'There have been many sad victims to absolute government.' JOHNSON. 'So, Sir, have there been to popular factions.' BOSWELL. 'The question is, which is worst, one wild beast or many?' Somebody found fault with writing verses in a dead language, maintaining that they were merely arrangements of so many words, and laughed at the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, for sending forth collections of them not only in Greek and Latin, but even in Syriac, Arabick, and other more unknown tongues.  JOHNSON. 'I would have as many of these as possible; I would have verses in every language that there are the means of acquiring. Nobody imagines that an University is to have at once two hundred poets; but it should be able to show two hundred scholars. And I would have had at every coronation, and every death of a King, University-verses, in as many languages as can be acquired. I would have the world to be thus told, "Here is a school where every thing may be learnt."' (classix comix™ is underwritten in part through a continuing grant from the Bob’s Bowery Bar Endowment for the Graphic and Literary Arts: “Alone and without family or friends in the big city for this most hopeful of Christian holidays? Why not stop into Bob’s Bowery Bar for the all-day Easter Special: Bob’s Mom’s baked ham with pineapple, mashed potatoes with red-eye gravy, roasted brussels sprouts bathed in lashings of fresh-churned butter, with a side of Uneeda biscuits and a complimentary large schooner of Bob’s proprietary basement-brewed house bock – all for only $3.95! (Kosher, halal, vegan and gluten-free substitutions available upon request.)” – Horace P. Sternwall, your host of Bob’s Bowery Bar Presents Horace P. Sternwall’s Chuckwagon Tales, Thursdays at 10pm (EST), exclusively on the Dumont Television Network.) part 116

Boswell’s Life of Johnson: 114

Edited by Dan Leo, LL.D., Assistant Professor of Comic Strip Studies; Assistant Women’s Fencing Team Coach, Olney Community College; author of Bozzie and Dr. Sam: The Sage’s Thrashing Cane, the Olney Community College Press.

Art direction by rhoda penmarq (layout, pencils, charcoals, inks, colors by eddie el greco; lettering by roy dismas) for penmarqrite™ productions.

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'To BENNET LANGTON, ESQ. 'DEAR SIR, 'I have enquired more minutely about the medicine for the rheumatism, which I am sorry to hear that you still want. The receipt is this: “Take equal quantities of flour of sulphur, and flour of mustard-seed, make them an electuary with honey or treacle; and take a bolus as big as a nutmeg several times a day, as you can bear it: drinking after it a quarter of a pint of the infusion of the root of Lovage.” 'Lovage, in Ray's Nomenclature, is Levisticum: perhaps the Botanists may know the Latin name. 'Of this medicine I pretend not to judge. There is all the appearance of its efficacy, which a single instance can afford: the patient was very old, the pain very violent, and the relief, I think, speedy and lasting. 'My opinion of alterative medicine is not high, but quid tentasse nocebit? {“what harm to have tried it?” – Editor} if it does harm, or does no good, it may be omitted; but that it may do good, you have, I hope, reason to think is desired by, 'Sir, your most affectionate, Humble servant, SAM. JOHNSON.' 'April 17, 1775.' On Tuesday, April 18, he and I were engaged to go with Sir Joshua Reynolds to dine with Mr. Cambridge, at his beautiful villa on the banks of the Thames, near Twickenham. Dr. Johnson's tardiness was such, that Sir Joshua, who had an appointment at Richmond, early in the day, was obliged to go by himself on horseback, leaving his coach to Johnson and me. Johnson was in such good spirits, that every thing seemed to please him as we drove along. Our conversation turned on a variety of subjects.  He thought portrait-painting an improper employment for a woman. 'Publick practice of any art, (he observed,) and staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a female.' I happened to start a question, whether, when a man knows that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house of another friend, with whom they are all equally intimate, he may join them without an invitation. JOHNSON. 'No, Sir; he is not to go when he is not invited. They may be invited on purpose to abuse him' (smiling). As a curious instance how little a man knows, or wishes to know, his own character in the world, or, rather, as a convincing proof that Johnson's roughness was only external, and did not proceed from his heart, I insert the following dialogue. JOHNSON. 'It is wonderful, Sir, how rare a quality good humour is in life. We meet with very few good humoured men.' I mentioned four of our friends, none of whom he would allow to be good humoured. One was acid, another was muddy, and to the others he had objections which have escaped me. Then, shaking his head and stretching himself at ease in the coach, and smiling with much complacency, he turned to me and said, 'I look upon myself as a good humoured fellow.' The epithet fellow, applied to the great Lexicographer, the stately Moralist, the masterly Critick, as if he had been Sam Johnson, a mere pleasant companion, was highly diverting; and this light notion of himself struck me with wonder. I answered, also smiling, 'No, no, Sir; that will not do. You are good natured, but not good humoured: you are irascible. You have not patience with folly and absurdity. I believe you would pardon them, if there were time to deprecate your vengeance; but punishment follows so quick after sentence, that they cannot escape.' I had brought with me a great bundle of Scotch magazines and news-papers, in which his Journey to the Western Islands was attacked in every mode; and I read a great part of them to him, knowing they would afford him entertainment. I wish the writers of them had been present: they would have been sufficiently vexed. One ludicrous imitation of his style, by Mr. Maclaurin, now one of the Scotch Judges, with the title of Lord Dreghorn, was distinguished by him from the rude mass. 'This (said he,) is the best. But I could caricature my own style much better myself.' He defended his remark upon the general insufficiency of education in Scotland; and confirmed to me the authenticity of his witty saying on the learning of the Scotch;— 'Their learning is like bread in a besieged town: every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal.' 'There is (said he,) in Scotland, a diffusion of learning, a certain portion of it widely and thinly spread. A merchant there has as much learning as one of their clergy.' He talked of Isaac Walton's Lives, which was one of his most favourite books. Dr. Donne's Life, he said, was the most perfect of them. He observed, that 'it was wonderful that Walton, who was in a very low situation in life, should have been familiarly received by so many great men, and that at a time when the ranks of society were kept more separate than they are now.'  He supposed that Walton had then given up his business as a linen draper and sempster, and was only an authour; and added, 'that he was a great panegyrist.' BOSWELL. 'No quality will get a man more friends than a disposition to admire the qualities of others. I do not mean flattery, but a sincere admiration.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, Sir, flattery pleases very generally. In the first place, the flatterer may think what he says to be true: but, in the second place, whether he thinks so or not, he certainly thinks those whom he flatters of consequence enough to be flattered.' No sooner had we made our bow to Mr. Cambridge, in his library, than Johnson ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on poring over the backs of the books. Sir Joshua observed, (aside,) 'He runs to the books, as I do to the pictures: but I have the advantage. I can see much more of the pictures than he can of the books.' Mr. Cambridge, upon this, politely said, 'Dr. Johnson, I am going, with your pardon, to accuse myself, for I have the same custom which I perceive you have. But it seems odd that one should have such a desire to look at the backs of books.' Johnson, ever ready for contest, instantly started from his reverie, wheeled about, and answered, 'Sir, the reason is very plain. Knowledge is of two kinds. We know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it. When we enquire into any subject, the first thing we have to do is to know what books have treated of it. This leads us to look at catalogues, and the backs of books in libraries.' Sir Joshua observed to me the extraordinary promptitude with which Johnson flew upon an argument. 'Yes, (said I,) he has no formal preparation, no flourishing with his sword; he is through your body in an instant.' (classix comix™ is made possible in part through the continued sponsorship the Bob’s Bowery Bar Foundation for the Unpopular Arts: “No disingenuous modesty shall prevent me from recommending my personal favorite item from the new spring brunch menu at Bob’s Bowery Bar: ‘Horace’s Hangover Special’: a great heaping plate of ‘Bob’s Mom’s Own’ creamed chipped beef, made with only the finest cave-dried free-range beef, rich farm-fresh cream and fresh-churned butter, liberally larded with Bob’s home-smoked backfat chunks and sun-dried Jersey tomato bits, served over your choice of fresh-baked challah or sourdough toast. Wash it all down with two or three tall schooners of Bob’s own basement-brewed house bock and you’ll soon be feeling no pain – for the nonce that is!” – Horace P. Sternwall, host of Bob’s Bowery Bar Presents Horace P. Sternwall’s Tales of the South Seas , Tuesdays at 9pm (EST), exclusively on the Dumont Television Network.) part 115

day and dark

by George Cabot Lodge

illustrations by konrad kraus

Now the golden fields of sunset rose on rose to me-ward fall, Down the dark reverberate beaches clear and far the sea-birds call, Blue across the fire-stained waters, eastward thrusts the chuckling tide, Fresh as when the immortal impulse took the lifeless world for bride. Now the shore's thin verge of shallows keep the tense and tender light, Now the stars hang few and faultless, diademed on the brows of night, Now the moon's unstinted silver falls like dew along the sea While from far a friendly casement softly fills with light for me. So it ends! I reaped the harvest, lived the long and lavish day, Saw the earliest sunlight shiver thro' the breakers' endless play, Felt the noonday's warm abundance, shared the hours of large repose, While the stately sun descended thro' the twilight's sumptuous' close. Now the night-fall—Ah! I guess the immortal secret, glimpse the goal, Know the hours have scanted nothing, know each fragment hints the whole, While the Soul in power and freedom dares and wills to claim its own, Star over star, a larger, lovelier unknown heaven beyond the known!

the bar by the side of the road

by Robert E Howard

illustrations by konrad kraus

There are liquorless souls that follow paths Where whiskey never ran -- Let me live in a bar by the side of the road And drink from the old beer can. Let me live in a bar by the side of the road Where the race of man goes dry, The men who are "drys" and the men who are "wets" (But none are so "wet" as I.) I see from the bar by the side of the road, A land with a drouth accurst; And men who press on with the ardour of beer, And men who are faint with thirst. I know there are bars in Old Mexico, And schooners of glorious height. That the booze splashes on through the long afternoon, And floods through the gutters of night. But still I take gin when the travelers take gin And Scotch with the whiskey man, Nor ever refuse a thirsty soul A swig from my old beer can. For why should I praise Prohibition's restraints, Or love the revenue man? Let me live in a bar by the side of the road And drink from the old beer can!