The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. in Nine Volumes, Volume 02: The Rambler, Volume IJohnson, Samuel
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The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. in Nine Volumes, Volume 02: The Rambler, Volume I
Johnson, Samuel
English essays -- 18th century
I have now lived two-and-twenty years, and have passed of each year nine
months in town, and three at Richmond; so that my time has been spent
uniformly in the same company, and the same amusements, except as fashion
has introduced new diversions, or the revolutions of the gay world have
afforded new successions of wits and beaux. However, my mother is so good
an economist of pleasure, that I have no spare hours upon my hands; for
every morning brings some new appointment, and every night is hurried
away by the necessity of making our appearance at different places, and
of being with one lady at the opera, and with another at the card-table.
When the time came of settling our schemes of felicity for the summer,
it was determined that I should pay a visit to a rich aunt in a remote
county. As you know the chief conversation of all tea-tables, in the
spring, arises from a communication of the manner in which time is to
be passed till winter, it was a great relief to the barrenness of our
topicks, to relate the pleasures that were in store for me, to describe
my uncle's seat, with the park and gardens, the charming walks and
beautiful waterfalls; and every one told me how much she envied me, and
what satisfaction she had once enjoyed in a situation of the same kind.
As we are all credulous in our own favour, and willing to imagine some
latent satisfaction in any thing which we have not experienced, I will
confess to you, without restraint, that I had suffered my head to be
filled with expectations of some nameless pleasure in a rural life, and
that I hoped for the happy hour that should set me free from noise, and
flutter, and ceremony, dismiss me to the peaceful shade, and lull me in
content and tranquillity. To solace myself under the misery of delay, I
sometimes heard a studious lady of my acquaintance read pastorals, I was
delighted with scarce any talk but of leaving the town, and never went
to bed without dreaming of groves, and meadows, and frisking lambs.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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