The Works of Samuel Johnson in Nine Volumes by Samuel Johnson

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If we look back on the other side, to the rise of Comedy, we shall see
her hatched from the Margites, or from the Odyssey of Homer, the
imitation of her eldest sister; but we see her, under the conduct of
Aristophanes, become licentious and petulant, taking airs to herself,
which the magistrates were obliged to crush. Menander reduced her to
bounds, taught her, at once, gaiety and politeness, and enabled her to
correct vice, without shocking the offenders. Plautus, among the Romans,
to whom we must now pass, united the earlier and the later comedy, and
joined buffoonery with delicacy. Terence, who was better instructed,
received comedy from Menander, and surpassed his original, as he
endeavoured to copy it. And lastly, Moliere produced a new species of
comedy, which must be placed in a class by itself, in opposition to that
of Aristophanes, whose manner is, likewise, peculiar to himself.

But such is the weakness of the human mind, that, when we review the
successions of the drama a third time, we find genius falling from its
height, forgetting itself, and led astray by the love of novelty, and
the desire of striking out new paths. Tragedy degenerated, in Greece,
from the time of Aristotle, and, in Rome, after Augustus. At Rome and
Athens, comedy produced mimi, pantomimes, burlettas, tricks, and farces,
for the sake of variety; such is the character, and such the madness of
the mind of man. It is satisfied with having made great conquests, and
gives them up to attempt others which are far from answering its
expectation, and only enable it to discover its own folly, weakness and
deviations. But, why should we be tired with standing still at the true
point of perfection, when it is attained? If eloquence be wearied, and
forgets herself awhile, yet she soon returns to her former point: so
will it happen to our theatres, if the French Muses will keep the Greek
models in their view, and not look, with disdain, upon a stage, whose
mother is nature, whose soul is passion, and whose art is simplicity: a
stage, which, to speak the truth, does not, perhaps, equal ours in
splendour and elevation, but which excels it in simplicity and
propriety, and equals it, at least, in the conduct and direction of
those passions, which may properly affect an honest man and a christian.

For my part, I shall think myself well recompensed for my labour, and
shall attain the end which I had in view, if I shall, in some little
measure, revive in the minds of those, who purpose to run the round of
polite literature, not an immoderate and blind reverence, but a true
taste of antiquity: such a taste, as both feeds and polishes the mind,
and enriches it, by enabling it to appropriate the wealth of foreigners,
and to exert its natural fertility in exquisite productions; such a
taste as gave the Racines, the Molieres, the Boileaus, the Fontaines,
the Patrus, the Pelissons, and many other great geniuses of the last
age, all that they were, and all that they will always be; such a taste,
as puts the seal of immortality to those works in which it is
discovered; a taste, so necessary, that, without it, we may be certain,
that the greatest powers of nature will long continue in a state below
themselves; for no man ought to allow himself to be flattered or
seduced, by the example of some men of genius, who have rather appeared
to despise this taste, than to despise it in reality. It is true, that
excellent originals have given occasion, without any fault of their own,
to very bad copies. No man ought severely to ape either the ancients or
the moderns; but, if it was necessary, to run into an extreme of one
side or the other, which is never done by a judicious and well-directed
mind, it would be better for a wit, as for a painter, to enrich himself
by what he can take from the ancients, than to grow poor by taking all
from his own stock; or openly to affect an imitation of those moderns,
whose more fertile genius has produced beauties, peculiar to themselves,
and which themselves only can display with grace: beauties of that
peculiar kind, that they are not fit to be imitated by others; though,
in those who first invented them, they may be justly esteemed, and in
them only[5].

FOOTNOTES:

[1] View of the immorality and profaneness of the English stage, by
Jeremy Collier. 1698.--Ed.

[2] See St. Paul, upon the subject of the Ignoto Deo.

[3] It is the licentiousness of the mimi and pantomimes, against which
the censure of the holy fathers particularly breaks out, as against
a thing irregular and indecent, without supposing it much connected
with the cause of religion.

[4] Eschylus, in my opinion, as well as the other poets, his
contemporaries, retained the chorus, not merely because it was the
fashion, but because, examining tragedy to the bottom, they found it
not rational to conceive, that an action, great and splendid, like
the revolution of a state, could pass without witnesses.

[5] Much light has been thrown on the Greek drama since the labours of
Dr. Johnson, and the pere Brumoy. The papers on the subject, in
Cumberland's Observer, Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Literature,
Mr. Mitchell's Dissertations, in his translation of Aristophanes,
and the essays on the Greek Orators and Dramatists, in the Quarterly
Review, may be mentioned as among the most popular attempts to
illustrate this pleasing department of the Belles-Lettres.--Ed.

DEDICATIONS.

Dr. James's Medicinal Dictionary, 3 vols. folio. 1743.

To Dr. Mead.

SIR,

That the Medicinal Dictionary is dedicated to you, is to be imputed only
to your reputation for superiour skill in those sciences, which I have
endeavoured to explain and facilitate; and you are, therefore, to
consider this address, if it be agreeable to you, as one of the rewards
of merit; and, if otherwise, as one of the inconveniencies of eminence.

However you shall receive it, my design cannot be disappointed; because
this publick appeal to your judgment will show, that I do not found my
hopes of approbation upon the ignorance of my readers, and that I fear
his censure least, whose knowledge is most extensive.

I am, Sir,
Your most obedient, humble servant,
R. JAMES.

The Female Quixote. By Mrs. Lennox. 1752.

To the right hon. the earl of Middlesex.

MY LORD,

Such is the power of interest over almost every mind, that no one is
long without arguments to prove any position which is ardently wished to
be true, or to justify any measures which are dictated by inclination.

By this subtile sophistry of desire, I have been persuaded to hope that
this book may, without impropriety, be inscribed to your lordship; but
am not certain, that my reasons will have the same force upon other
understandings.

The dread which a writer feels of the publick censure; the still greater
dread of neglect; and the eager wish for support and protection, which
is impressed by the consciousness of imbecility, are unknown to those
who have never adventured into the world; and, I am afraid, my lord,
equally unknown to those who have always found the world ready to
applaud them.

It is, therefore, not unlikely that the design of this address may be
mistaken, and the effects of my fear imputed to my vanity. They, who see
your lordship's name prefixed to my performance, will rather condemn my
presumption than compassionate my anxiety.

But, whatever be supposed my motive, the praise of judgment cannot be
denied me; for, to whom can timidity so properly fly for shelter, as to
him who has been so long distinguished for candour and humanity? How can
vanity be so completely gratified, as by the allowed patronage of him,
whose judgment has so long given a standard to the national taste! Or by
what other means could I so powerfully suppress all opposition, but that
of envy, as by declaring myself,

My lord,

Your lordship's obliged and
most obedient servant,

THE AUTHOR.

Shakespeare Illustrated; or, the Novels and Histories on which the plays
of Shakespeare are founded; collected and translated from the original
authors. With Critical Remarks. By the author of the Female Quixote.
1753.

To the right hon. John, earl of Orrery.

MY LORD,

I have no other pretence to the honour of a patronage so illustrious as
that of your lordship, than the merit of attempting what has, by some
unaccountable neglect, been hitherto omitted, though absolutely
necessary to a perfect knowledge of the abilities of Shakespeare.

Among the powers that most conduce to constitute a poet, the first and
most valuable is invention; the highest seems to be that which is able
to produce a series of events. It is easy, when the thread of a story is
once drawn, to diversify it with variety of colours; and when a train of
action is presented to the mind, a little acquaintance with life will
supply circumstances and reflections, and a little knowledge of books
furnish parallels and illustrations. To tell over again a story that has
been told already, and to tell it better than the first author, is no
rare qualification: but to strike out the first hints of a new fable;
hence, to introduce a set of characters so diversified in their several
passions and interests, that from the clashing of this variety may
result many necessary incidents; to make these incidents surprising, and
yet natural, so as to delight the imagination, without shocking the
judgment of a reader; and, finally, to wind up the whole in a pleasing
catastrophe, produced by those very means which seem most likely to
oppose and prevent it, is the utmost effort of the human mind.

To discover how few of those writers, who profess to recount imaginary
adventures, have been able to produce any thing by their own
imagination, would require too much of that time which your lordship
employs in nobler studies. Of all the novels and romances that wit or
idleness, vanity or indigence, have pushed into the world, there are
very few of which the end cannot be conjectured from the beginning; or
where the authors have done more than to transpose the incidents of
other tales, or strip the circumstances from one event for the
decoration of another.

In the examination of a poet's character, it is, therefore, first to be
inquired, what degree of invention has been exerted by him. With this
view, I have very diligently read the works of Shakespeare, and now
presume to lay the result of my researches before your lordship, before
that judge whom Pliny himself would have wished for his assessor to hear
a literary cause.

How much the translation of the following novels will add to the
reputation of Shakespeare, or take away from it, you my lord, and men
learned and candid like you, if any such can be found, must now
determine. Some danger, I am informed, there is, lest his admirers
should think him injured by this attempt, and clamour, as at the
diminution of the honour of that nation, which boasts itself the parent
of so great a poet.

That no such enemies may arise against me, though I am unwilling to
believe it, I am far from being too confident, for who can fix bounds to
bigotry and folly? My sex, my age, have not given me many opportunities
of mingling in the world. There may be in it many a species of absurdity
which I have never seen, and, among them, such vanity as pleases itself
with false praise bestowed on another, and such superstition as worships
idols, without supposing them to be gods.

But the truth is, that a very small part of the reputation of this
mighty genius depends upon the naked plot or story of his plays. He
lived in an age, when the books of chivalry were yet popular, and when,
therefore, the minds of his auditors were not accustomed to balance
probabilities, or to examine nicely the proportion between causes and
effects. It was sufficient to recommend a story, that it was far removed
from common life, that its changes were frequent, and its close
pathetick.

This disposition of the age concurred so happily with the imagination of
Shakespeare, that he had no desire to reform it; and, indeed, to this he
was indebted for the licentious variety, by which he made his plays more
entertaining than those of any other author.

He had looked, with great attention, on the scenes of nature; but his
chief skill was in human actions, passions, and habits; he was,
therefore, delighted with such tales as afforded numerous incidents, and
exhibited many characters in many changes of situation. These characters
are so copiously diversified, and some of them so justly pursued, that
his works may be considered, as a map of life, a faithful miniature of
human transactions; and he that has read Shakespeare, with attention,
will, perhaps, find little new in the crowded world.

Among his other excellencies, it ought to be remarked, because it has
hitherto been unnoticed, that his heroes are men; that the love and
hatred, the hopes and fears of his chief personages, are such as are
common to other human beings, and not, like those which later times have
exhibited, peculiar to phantoms that strut upon the stage[1].

It is not, perhaps, very necessary to inquire whether the vehicle of so
much delight and instruction, be a story probable or unlikely, native or
foreign. Shakespeare's excellence is not the fiction of a tale, but the
representation of life; and his reputation is, therefore, safe, till
human nature shall be changed. Nor can he, who has so many just claims
to praise, suffer by losing that which ignorant admiration has
unreasonably given him. To calumniate the dead is baseness, and to
flatter them is surely folly.

From flattery, my lord, either of the dead or the living, I wish to be
clear, and have, therefore, solicited the countenance of a patron, whom,
if I knew how to praise him, I could praise with truth, and have the
world on my side; whose candour and humanity are universally
acknowledged, and whose judgment, perhaps, was then first to be doubted,
when he condescended to admit this address from,

My lord,
Your lordship's most obliged,
and most obedient, humble servant,

THE AUTHOR.
[1] See preface to Shakespeare.

Payne's Introduction to the Game of Draughts. 1756.

To the right hon. William Henry, earl of Rochford, &c.

MY LORD,

WHEN I take the liberty of addressing to your lordship a treatise on the
game of draughts, I easily foresee, that I shall be in danger of
suffering ridicule on one part, while I am gaining honour on the other;
and that many, who may envy me the distinction of approaching you, will
deride the present I presume to offer.

Had I considered this little volume, as having no purpose beyond that of
teaching a game, I should, indeed, have left it to take its fate without
a patron. Triflers may find or make any thing a trifle; but, since it is
the great characteristick of a wise man to see events in their causes,
to obviate consequences, and ascertain contingencies, your lordship will
think nothing a trifle, by which the mind is inured to caution,
foresight, and circumspection. The same skill, and often the same degree
of skill, is exerted in great and little things; and your lordship may,
sometimes, exercise, on a harmless game[1], those abilities which have
been so happily employed in the service of your country.

I am, my lord,
Your lordship's most obliged, most obedient,
and most humble servant,

WILLIAM PAYNE.

[1] The game of draughts, we know, is peculiarly calculated to fix the
attention, without straining it. There is a composure and gravity in
draughts, which insensibly tranquillises the mind; and, accordingly,
the Dutch are fond of it, as they are of smoking, of the sedative
influence of which, though he himself (Dr. Johnson) never smoked, he
had a high opinion.--Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. 3rd edit. p.
48.

The Evangelical History of Jesus Christ harmonized, explained and
illustrated[1]. 2 vols. 8vo. 1758.

To the lords spiritual and temporal, and commons in parliament
assembled.

That we are fallen upon an age in which corruption is barely not
universal, is universally confessed. Venality sculks no longer in the
dark, but snatches the bribe in publick; and prostitution issues forth
without shame, glittering with the ornaments of successful wickedness.
Rapine preys on the publick without opposition, and perjury betrays it
without inquiry. Irreligion is not only avowed, but boasted; and the
pestilence that used to walk in darkness, is now destroying at noonday.

Shall this be the state of the English nation; and shall her lawgivers
behold it without regard? Must the torrent continue to roll on, till it
shall sweep us into the gulf of perdition? Surely there will come a
time, when the careless shall be frighted, and the sluggish shall be
roused; when every passion shall be put upon the guard by the dread of
general depravity; when he who laughs at wickedness in his companion,
shall start from it in his child; when the man who fears not for his
soul, shall tremble for his possessions; when it shall be discovered
that religion only can secure the rich from robbery, and the poor from
oppression; can defend the state from treachery, and the throne from
assassination.

If this time be ever to come, let it come quickly: a few years longer,
and, perhaps, all endeavours will be vain: we may be swallowed by an
earthquake; we may be delivered to our enemies, or abandoned to that
discord, which must inevitably prevail among men that have lost all
sense of divine superintendence, and have no higher motive of action or
forbearance, than present opinion of present interest.

It is the duty of private men to supplicate and propose; it is yours to
hear and to do right. Let religion be once more restored, and the nation
shall once more be great and happy. This consequence is not far distant:
that nation must always be powerful, where every man performs his duty;
and every man will perform his duty, that considers himself, as a being
whose condition is to be settled to all eternity by the laws of Christ.

The only doctrine by which man can be made "wise unto salvation," is the
will of God, revealed in the books of the Old and the New Testament.

To study the scriptures, therefore, according to his abilities and
attainments, is every man's duty; and to facilitate that study, to those
whom nature hath made weak, or education has left ignorant, or
indispensable cares detain from regular processes of inquiry, is the
business of those who have been blessed with abilities and learning, and
are appointed the instructers of the lower classes of men, by that
common Father, who distributes to all created beings their
qualifications and employments; who has allotted some to the labour of
the hand, and some to the exercise of the mind; has commanded some to
teach, and others to learn; has prescribed to some the patience of
instruction, and to others the meekness of obedience.

By what methods the unenlightened and ignorant may be made proper
readers of the word of God, has been long and diligently considered.
Commentaries of all kinds have, indeed, been copiously produced; but
there still remain multitudes to whom the labours of the learned are of
little use, for whom expositions require an expositor. To those, indeed,
who read the divine books, without vain curiosity, or a desire to be
wise beyond their powers, it will always be easy to discern the straight
path, to find the words of everlasting life. But such is the condition
of our nature, that we are always attempting what is difficult to
perform: he who reads the scripture to gain goodness, is desirous,
likewise, to gain knowledge, and by his impatience of ignorance, falls
into errour.

This danger has appeared to the doctors of the Romish church, so much to
be feared, and so difficult to be escaped, that they have snatched the
bible out of the hands of the people, and confined the liberty of
perusing it to those whom literature has previously qualified. By this
expedient they have formed a kind of uniformity, I am afraid, too much
like that of colours in the dark; but they have, certainly, usurped a
power which God has never given them, and precluded great numbers from
the highest spiritual consolation.

I know not whether this prohibition has not brought upon them an evil
which they themselves have not discovered. It is granted, I believe, by
the Romanists themselves, that the best commentaries on the bible have
been the works of protestants. I know not, indeed, whether, since the
celebrated paraphrase of Erasmus, any scholar has appeared amongst them,
whose works are much valued, even in his own communion. Why have those
who excel in every other kind of knowledge, to whom the world owes much
of the increase of light, which has shone upon these latter ages,
failed, and failed only, when they have attempted to explain the
scriptures of God? Why, but, because they are in the church less read,
and less examined; because they have another rule of deciding
controversies and instituting laws.

Of the bible, some of the books are prophetical; some doctrinal and
historical, as the gospels, of which we have, in the subsequent pages,
attempted an illustration. The books of the evangelists contain an
account of the life of our blessed Saviour, more particularly of the
years of his ministry, interspersed with his precepts, doctrines, and
predictions. Each of these histories contains facts, and dictates
related, likewise, in the rest, that the truth might be established by
concurrence of testimony; and each has, likewise, facts and dictates
which the rest omit, to prove that they were wrote without
communication.

These writers, not affecting the exactness of chronologers, and,
relating various events of the same life, or the same events with
various circumstances, have some difficulties to him, who, without the
help of many books, desires to collect a series of the acts and precepts
of Jesus Christ; fully to know his life, whose example was given for our
imitation; fully to understand his precepts, which it is sure
destruction to disobey.

In this work, therefore, an attempt has been made, by the help of
harmonists and expositors, to reduce the four gospels into one series of
narration; to form a complete history out of the different narratives of
the evangelists, by inserting every event in the order of time, and
connecting every precept of life and doctrine, with the occasion on
which it was delivered; showing, as far as history or the knowledge of
ancient customs can inform us, the reason and propriety of every action;
and explaining, or endeavouring to explain, every precept and
declaration in its true meaning.

Let it not be hastily concluded, that we intend to substitute this book
for the gospels, or to obtrude our own expositions as the oracles of
God. We recommend to the unlearned reader to consult us, when he finds
any difficulty, as men who have laboured not to deceive ourselves, and
who are without any temptation to deceive him; but as men, however,
that, while they mean best, may be mistaken. Let him be careful,
therefore, to distinguish what we cite from the gospels, from what we
offer as our own: he will find many difficulties removed; and, if some
yet remain, let him remember that, "God is in heaven and we upon earth,"
that, "our thoughts are not God's thoughts," and that the great cure of
doubt is an humble mind[2].

FOOTNOTES:

[1] The dedication to this work has been so confidently attributed to
Dr. Johnson, and so constantly inserted among his productions, that
it is given in the present edition. But Mr. Boswell was of opinion,
that it was not Johnson's composition. "He was no _croaker_,"
observes his friendly biographer, "no declaimer against the _times_.
He would not have written, 'That we are fallen upon an age, in which
corruption is not barely universal, is universally confessed.' Nor,
'rapine preys on the publick without opposition, and perjury betrays
it without injury.' Nor would he, to excite a speedy reformation,
have conjured up such phantoms as these: 'A few years longer, and,
perhaps, all endeavours will be in vain. We may be swallowed by an
earthquake, we may be delivered to our enemies.'" "This is not
Johnsonian," is Mr. Boswell's inference, iv. p. 423. note.--Ed.

[2] "My doctrine is not mine," said the Divine Founder of our religion,
"but his that sent me. If any man will _do_ his will, he shall
_know_ of the doctrine, whether it be of God, or whether I speak of
myself." St. John, vii. 16, 17. --Ed.

Angell's Stenography, or Shorthand improved. 1758.

To the most noble Charles duke of Richmond, Lennox, Aubigny, &c.

May it please Your Grace,

The improvement of arts and sciences has always been esteemed laudable:
and, in proportion to their utility and advantage to mankind, they have
generally gained the patronage of persons the most distinguished for
birth, learning, and reputation in the world. This is an art,
undoubtedly, of publick utility, and which has been cultivated by
persons of distinguished abilities, as will appear from its history.
But, as most of their systems have been defective, clogged with a
multiplicity of rules, and perplexed by arbitrary, intricate, and
impracticable schemes, I have endeavoured to rectify their defects, to
adapt it to all capacities, and render it of general, lasting, and
extensive benefit. How this is effected the following plates will
sufficiently explain, to which I have prefixed a suitable introduction,
and a concise and impartial history of the origin and progressive
improvements of this art. And, as I have submitted the whole to the
inspection of accurate judges, whose approbation I am honoured with, I
most humbly crave leave to publish it to the world, under your grace's
patronage: not merely on account of your great dignity and high rank in
life, though these receive a lustre from your grace's humanity; but also
from a knowledge of your grace's disposition to encourage every useful
art, and favour all true promoters of science. That your grace may long
live the friend of learning, the guardian of liberty, and the patron of
virtue, and then transmit your name, with the highest honour and esteem,
to latest posterity, is the ardent wish of

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