Lives Of The Poets, Vol. 1 (fiscle part-III) by Samuel Johnson (best beach reads TXT) 📖
- Author: Samuel Johnson
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What Came. At Other Times He Would Dictate, Perhaps, Forty Lines In a
Breath, And Then Reduce Them To Half The Number."
These Bursts Of Light, And Involutions Of Darkness, These Transient
And Involuntary Excursions And Retrocessions Of Invention, Having some
Appearance Of Deviation From The Common Train Of Nature, Are Eagerly
Caught By The Lovers Of A Wonder. Yet Something of This Inequality
Happens To Every Man In every Mode Of Exertion, Manual Or Mental. The
Mechanick Cannot Handle His Hammer And His File At All Times With Equal
Dexterity; There Are Hours, He Knows Not Why, When "His Hand Is Out."
By Mr. Richardson'S Relation, Casually Conveyed, Much Regard Cannot Be
Claimed. That, In his Intellectual Hour, Milton Called for His Daughter
To "Secure What Came," May Be Questioned; For Unluckily It Happens To Be
Known, That His Daughters Were Never Taught To Write; Nor Would He Have
Been Obliged, As Is Universally Confessed, To Have Employed any Casual
Visitor In disburdening his Memory, If His Daughter Could Have Performed
The Office.
The Story Of Reducing his Exuberance Has Been Told Of Other Authors,
And, Though, Doubtless, True Of Every Fertile And Copious Mind, Seems
To Have Been Gratuitously Transferred to Milton.
What He Has Told Us, And We Cannot Now Know More, Is, That He Composed
Much Of This Poem In the Night And Morning, I Suppose, Before His Mind
Was Disturbed with Common Business; And That He Poured out, With Great
Fluency, His "Unpremeditated verse." Versification, Free, Like His, From
The Distresses Of Rhyme, Must, By A Work So Long, Be Made Prompt And
Habitual; And, When His Thoughts Were Once Adjusted, The Words Would
Come At His Command.
At What Particular Times Of His Life The Parts Of His Work Were Written,
Cannot Often Be Known. The Beginning of The Third Book Shows That He Had
Lost His Sight; And The Introduction To The Seventh, That The Return Of
The King had Clouded him With Discountenance: And That He Was Offended
By The Licentious Festivity Of The Restoration. There Are No Other
Internal Notes Of Time. Milton, Being now Cleared from All Effects Of
His Disloyalty, Had Nothing required from Him But The Common Duty Of
Living in quiet, To Be Rewarded with The Common Right Of Protection;
But This, Which, When He Skulked from The Approach Of His King, Was,
Perhaps, More Than He Hoped, Seems Not To Have Satisfied him; For, No
Sooner Is He Safe, Than He Finds Himself In danger: "Fallen On Evil Days
And Evil Tongues, And With Darkness And With Danger Compass'D Round."
This Darkness, Had His Eyes Been Better Employed, Had Undoubtedly
Deserved compassion; But To Add The Mention Of Danger Was Ungrateful
And Unjust. He Was Fallen, Indeed, On "Evil Days;" The Time Was Come In
Which Regicides Could No Longer Boast Their Wickedness. But Of "Evil
Tongues" For Milton To Complain, Required impudence, At Least, Equal To
His Other Powers; Milton, Whose Warmest Advocates Must Allow, That He
Never Spared any Asperity Of Reproach, Or Brutality Of Insolence.
But The Charge Itself Seems To Be False; For It Would Be Hard To
Recollect Any Reproach Cast Upon Him, Either Serious Or Ludicrous,
Through The Whole Remaining part Of His Life. He Pursued his Studies, Or
His Amusements, Without Persecution, Molestation, Or Insult. Such Is
The Reverence Paid To Great Abilities, However Misused: They Who
Contemplated in milton The Scholar And The Wit, Were Contented to Forget
The Reviler Of His King.
When The Plague, 1665, Raged in london, Milton Took Refuge At Chalfont,
In Bucks; Where Elwood, Who Had Taken The House For Him, First Saw A
Complete Copy Of Paradise Lost, And, Having perused it, Said To Him:
"Thou Hast Said A Great Deal Upon Paradise Lost; What Hast Thou To Say
Upon Paradise Found?"
Next Year, When The Danger Of Infection Had Ceased, He Returned to
Bunhill Fields, And Designed the Publication Of His Poem. A License Was
Necessary, And He Could Expect No Great Kindness From A Chaplain Of The
Archbishop Of Canterbury. He Seems, However, To Have Been Treated with
Tenderness; For Though Objections Were Made To Particular Passages, And
Among Them To The Simile Of The Sun, Eclipsed in the First Book, Yet The
License Was Granted; And He Sold His Copy, April 27, 1667, To Samuel
Simmons, For An Immediate Payment Of Five Pounds, With A Stipulation To
Receive Five Pounds More, When Thirteen Hundred should Be Sold Of The
First Edition; And Again, Five Pounds After The Sale Of The Same Number
Of The Second Edition; And Another Five Pounds After The Same Sale Of
The Third. None Of The Three Editions Were To Be Extended beyond Fifteen
Hundred copies.
The First Edition Was Of Ten Books, In a Small Quarto. The Titles Were
Varied from Year To Year; And An Advertisement And The Arguments Of The
Books Were Omitted in some Copies, And Inserted in others.
The Sale Gave Him, In two Years, A Right To His Second Payment, For
Which The Receipt Was Signed april, 26, 1669. The Second Edition Was Not
Given Till 1674; It Was Printed in small Octavo; And The Number Of Books
Was Increased to Twelve, By A Division Of The Seventh And Twelfth; And
Some Other Small Improvements Were Made. The Third Edition Was Published
In 1678; And The Widow, To Whom The Copy Was Then To Devolve, Sold All
Her Claims To Simmons For Eight Pounds, According to Her Receipt Given
December 21, 1680. Simmons Had Already Agreed to Transfer The Whole
Right To Brabazon Aylmer, For Twenty-Five Pounds; And Aylmer Sold To
Jacob Tonson Half, August 17, 1683, And Half, March 24, 1690, At A Price
Considerably Enlarged. In the History Of Paradise Lost, A Deduction Thus
Minute Will Rather Gratify Than Fatigue.
The Slow Sale And Tardy Reputation Of This Poem Have Been Always
Mentioned as Evidences Of Neglected merit, And Of The Uncertainty Of
Literary Fame; And Inquiries Have Been Made, And Conjectures Offered,
About The Causes Of Its Long Obscurity And Late Reception. But Has The
Case Been Truly Stated? Have Not Lamentation And Wonder Been Lavished on
An Evil That Was Never Felt?
That In the Reigns Of Charles And James The Paradise Lost Received no
Publick Acclamations, Is Readily Confessed. Wit And Literature Were On
The Side Of The Court; And Who, That Solicited favour Or Fashion Would
Venture To Praise The Defender Of The Regicides? All That He Himself
Could Think His Due, From "Evil Tongues" In "Evil Days," Was That
Reverential Silence Which Was Generously Preserved. But It Cannot Be
Inferred, That His Poem Was Not Read, Or Not, However Unwillingly,
Admired.
The Sale, If It Be Considered, Will Justify The Publick. Those Who Have
No Power To Judge Of Past Times, But By Their Own, Should Always Doubt
Their Conclusions. The Call For Books Was Not In milton'S Age What It
Is In the Present. To Read Was Not Then A General Amusement; Neither
Traders, Nor Often Gentlemen, Thought Themselves Disgraced by Ignorance.
The Women Had Not Then Aspired to Literature, Nor Was Every House
Supplied with A Closet Of Knowledge. Those, Indeed, Who Professed
Learning, Were Not Less Learned than At Any Other Time; But Of That
Middle Race Of Students Who Read For Pleasure Or Accomplishment, And
Who Buy The Numerous Products Of Modern Typography, The Number Was
Then Comparatively Small. To Prove The Paucity Of Readers, It May Be
Sufficient To Remark, That The Nation Had Been Satisfied from 1623 To
1664, That Is, Forty-One Years, With Only Two Editions Of The Works Of
Shakespeare, Which, Probably, Did Not Together Make One Thousand Copies.
The Sale Of Thirteen Hundred copies In two Years, In opposition To So
Much Recent Enmity, And To A Style Of Versification New To All, And
Disgusting to Many, Was An Uncommon Example Of The Prevalence Of Genius.
The Demand Did Not Immediately Increase; For Many More Readers Than Were
Supplied at First The Nation Did Not Afford. Only Three Thousand Were
Sold In eleven Years; For It Forced its Way Without Assistance; Its
Admirers Did Not Dare To Publish Their Opinion; And The Opportunities
Now Given Of Attracting notice By Advertisements Were Then Very Few; The
Means Of Proclaiming the Publication Of New Books Have Been Produced by
That General Literature Which Now Pervades The Nation Through All Its
Ranks.
But The Reputation And Price Of The Copy Still Advanced, Till The
Revolution Put An End To The Secrecy Of Love, And Paradise Lost Broke
Into Open View With Sufficient Security Of Kind Reception.
Fancy Can Hardly Forbear To Conjecture With What Temper Milton Surveyed
The Silent Progress Of His Work, And Marked its Reputation Stealing its
Way In a Kind Of Subterraneous Current, Through Fear And Silence. I
Cannot But Conceive Him Calm And Confident, Little Disappointed, Not At
All Dejected, Relying on His Own Merit With Steady Consciousness, And
Waiting, Without Impatience, The Vicissitudes Of Opinion, And The
Impartiality Of A Future Generation.
In The Mean Time He Continued his Studies, And Supplied the Want Of
Sight By A Very Odd Expedient, Of Which Philips Gives The Following
Account:
Mr. Philips Tells Us, "That Though Our Author Had Daily About Him One Or
Other To Read, Some Persons Of Man'S Estate, Who, Of Their Own Accord,
Greedily Catched at The Opportunity Of Bring his Readers, That They
Might As Well Reap The Benefit Of What They Read To Him, As Oblige Him
By The Benefit Of Their Reading; And Others Of Younger Years Were Sent
By Their Parents To The Same End; Yet Excusing only The Eldest Daughter
By Reason Of Her Bodily Infirmity, And Difficult Utterance Of Speech,
(Which, To Say Truth, I Doubt Was The Principal Cause Of Excusing her,)
The Other Two Were Condemned to The Performance Of Reading, And Exactly
Pronouncing of All The Languages Of Whatever Book He Should, At One
Time Or Other, Think Fit To Peruse, Viz. The Hebrew, (And I Think The
Syriac,) The Greek, The Latin, The Italian, Spanish, And French. All
Which Sorts Of Books To Be Confined to Read, Without Understanding one
Word, Must Needs Be A Trial Of Patience Almost Beyond Endurance. Yet
It Was Endured by Both For A Long Time, Though The Irksomeness Of This
Employment Could Not Be Always Concealed, But Broke Out More And More
Into Expressions Of Uneasiness; So That, At Length, They Were All, Even
The Eldest Also, Sent Out To Learn Some Curious And Ingenious Sorts
Of Manufacture, That Are Proper For Women To Learn, Particularly
Embroideries In gold Or Silver."
In The Scene Of Misery Which This Mode Of Intellectual Labour Sets
Before Our Eyes, It Is Hard To Determine Whether The Daughters Or The
Father Are Most To Be Lamented. A Language Not Understood Can Never Be
So Read As To Give Pleasure, And, Very Seldom, So As To Convey
Meaning. If Few Men Would Have Had Resolution To Write Books With Such
Embarrassments, Few, Likewise, Would Have Wanted ability To Find Some
Better Expedient.
Three Years After His Paradise Lost, 1667, He Published his History
Of England, Comprising the Whole Fable Of Geoffrey Of Monmouth, And
Continued to The Norman Invasion. Why He Should Have Given The First
Part, Which He Seems Not To Believe, And Which Is Universally Rejected,
It Is Difficult To Conjecture. The Style Is Harsh; But It Has Something
Of Rough Vigour, Which, Perhaps, May Often Strike, Though It Cannot
Please.
On This History The Licenser Again Fixed his Claws, And, Before He Would
Transmit It To The Press, Tore Out Several Parts. Some Censures Of The
Saxon Monks Were Taken Away, Lest They Should Be Applied to The Modern
Clergy; And A Character Of The Long Parliament, And Assembly Of Divines,
Was Excluded; Of Which The Author Gave A Copy To The Earl Of Anglesea,
And Which, Being afterwards Published, Has Been Since Inserted in its
Proper Place.
The Same Year Were Printed paradise Regained; And Sampson Agonistes, A
Tragedy Written In imitation Of The Ancients, And Never Designed by
The Author For The Stage. As These Poems Were Published by Another
Bookseller, It Has Been Asked, Whether Simmons Was Discouraged from
Receiving them By The Slow Sale Of The Former? Why A Writer Changed
His Bookseller A Hundred years Ago, I Am Far From Hoping to Discover.
Certainly, He Who In two Years Sells Thirteen Hundred copies Of A Volume
In Quarto, Bought For Two Payments Of Five Pounds Each, Has No Reason To
Repent His Purchase.
When Milton Showed paradise Regained to Elwood, "This," Said He, "Is
Owing to You; For You Put It In my Head By The Question You Put To Me At
Chalfont, Which Otherwise I Had Not Thought Of."
His Last Poetical Offspring was His Favourite. He Could Not, As Elwood
Relates, Endure To Hear Paradise Lost Preferred to Paradise Regained.
Many Causes May Vitiate A Writer'S Judgment Of His Own Works. On That
Which Has Cost Him Much Labour He Sets A High Value,
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