Critical, Historical, and Miscellaneous Essays; Vol. 2: With a Memoir and IndexMacaulay, Thomas Babington Macaulay, Baron
Philosophy
Critical, Historical, and Miscellaneous Essays; Vol. 2: With a Memoir and Index
Macaulay, Thomas Babington Macaulay, Baron
English literature -- History and criticism; Great Britain -- History
Johnson grown old, Johnson in the fulness of his fame and in the
enjoyment of a competent fortune, is better known to us than any other
man in history. Every thing about him, his coat, his wig, his figure,
his face, his scrofula, his St. Vitus’s dance, his rolling walk, his
blinking eye, the outward signs which too clearly marked his approbation
of his dinner, his insatiable appetite for fish-sauce and veal-pie with
plums, his inextinguishable thirst for tea, his trick of touching the
posts as he walked, his mysterious practice of treasuring up scraps
of orange-peel, his morning slumbers, his midnight disputations, his
contortions, his mutter-ings, his gruntings, his puffings, his vigorous,
acute, and ready eloquence, his sarcastic wit, his vehemence, his
insolence, his fits of tempestuous rage, his queer inmates, old Mr.
Levett and blind Mrs. Williams, the cat Hodge and the negro Frank, all
are as familiar to us as the objects by which we have been surrounded
from childhood. But we have no minute information respecting those years
of Johnson’s life during which his character and his manners became
immutably fixed. We know him, not as he was known to the men of his own
generation, but as he was known to men whose father he might have been.
That celebrated club of {398}which he was the most distinguished member
contained few persons who could remember a time when his fame was not
fully established and his habits completely formed. He had made himself
a name in literature while Reynolds and the Wartons were still boys. He
was about twenty years older than Burke, Goldsmith, and Gerard Hamilton,
about thirty years older than Gibbon, Beauclerk, and Langton, and about
forty years older than Lord Stowell, Sir William Jones, and Windham.
Boswell and Mrs. Thrale, the two writers from whom we derive most of
our knowledge respecting him, never saw him till long after he was fifty
years old, till most of his great works had become classical, and till
the pension bestowed on him by the Crown had placed him above poverty.
Of those eminent men who were his most intimate associates towards the
close of his life, the only one, as far as we remember, who knew him
during the first ten or twelve years of his residence in the capital,
was David Garrick; and it does not appear that, during those years,
David Garrick saw much of his fellow-townsman.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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