the miscellaneous writings and speeches-3-第13节

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ingularly　cruel　form。　　He　had　become　an　incurable　hypochondriac。　He　said　long　after　that　he　had　been　mad　all　his　life；　or　at　least　not　perfectly　sane；　and；　in　truth；　eccentricities　less　strange　than　his　have　often　been　thought　grounds　sufficient　for　absolving　felons；　and　for　setting　aside　wills。　　His　grimaces；　his　gestures；　his　mutterings；　sometimes　diverted　and　sometimes　terrified　people　who　did　not　know　him。　　At　a　dinner　table　he　would；　in　a　fit　of　absence；　stoop　down　and　twitch　off　a　lady's　shoe。　　He　would　amaze　a　drawing…room　by　suddenly　ejaculating　a　clause　of　the　Lord's　Prayer。　　He　would　conceive　an　unintelligible　aversion　to　a　particular　alley；　and　perform　a　great　circuit　rather　than　see　the　hateful　place。　　He　would　set　his　heart　on　touching　every　post　in　the　streets　through　which　he　walked。　　If　by　any　chance　he　missed　a　post；　he　would　go　back　a　hundred　yards　and　repair　the　omission。　　Under　the　influence　of　his　disease；　his　senses　became　morbidly　torpid；　and　his　imagination　morbidly　active。　　At　one　time　he　would　stand　poring　on　the　town　clock　without　being　able　to　tell　the　hour。　　At　another；　he　would　distinctly　hear　his　mother；　who　was　many　miles　off；　calling　him　by　his　name。　　But　this　was　not　the　worst。　　A　deep　melancholy　took　possession　of　him；　and　gave　a　dark　tinge　to　all　his　views　of　human　nature　and　of　human　destiny。　　Such　wretchedness　as　he　endured　has　driven　many　men　to　shoot　themselves　or　drown　themselves。　　But　he　was　under　no　temptation　to　commit　suicide。　　He　was　sick　of　life；　but　he　was　afraid　of　death；　and　he　shuddered　at　every　sight　or　sound　which　reminded　him　of　the　inevitable　hour。　　In　religion　he　found　but　little　comfort　during　his　long　and　frequent　fits　of　dejection；　for　his　religion　partook　of　his　own　character。　　The　light　from　heaven　shone　on　him　indeed；　but　not　in　a　direct　line；　or　with　its　own　pure　splendour。　　The　rays　had　to　struggle　through　a　disturbing　medium；　they　reached　him　refracted；　dulled　and　discoloured　by　the　thick　gloom　which　had　settled　on　his　soul；　and；　though　they　might　be　sufficiently　clear　to　guide　him；　were　too　dim　to　cheer　him。　With　such　infirmities　of　body　and　mind；　this　celebrated　man　was　left；　at　two…and…twenty；　to　fight　his　way　through　the　world。　　He　remained　during　about　five　years　in　the　midland　counties。　　At　Lichfield；　his　birthplace　and　his　early　home；　he　had　inherited　some　friends　and　acquired　others。　　He　was　kindly　noticed　by　Henry　Hervey；　a　gay　officer　of　noble　family；　who　happened　to　be　quartered　there。　　Gilbert　Walmesley；　registrar　of　the　ecclesiastical　court　of　the　diocese；　a　man　of　distinguished　parts；　learning；　and　knowledge　of　the　world；　did　himself　honour　by　patronising　the　young　adventurer；　whose　repulsive　person；　unpolished　manners；　and　squalid　garb　moved　many　of　the　petty　aristocracy　of　the　neighbourhood　to　laughter　or　to　disgust。　　At　Lichfield；　however；　Johnson　could　find　no　way　of　earning　a　livelihood。　　He　became　usher　of　a　grammar　school　in　Leicestershire；　he　resided　as　a　humble　companion　in　the　house　of　a　country　gentleman；　but　a　life　of　dependence　was　insupportable　to　his　haughty　spirit。　　He　repaired　to　Birmingham；　and　there　earned　a　few　guineas　by　literary　drudgery。　　In　that　town　he　printed　a　translation；　little　noticed　at　the　time；　and　long　forgotten；　of　a　Latin　book　about　Abyssinia。　　He　then　put　forth　proposals　for　publishing　by　subscription　the　poems　of　Politian；　with　notes　containing　a　history　of　modern　Latin　verse：　　but　subscriptions　did　not　come　in；　and　the　volume　never　appeared。　While　leading　this　vagrant　and　miserable　life；　Johnson　fell　in　love。　　The　object　of　his　passion　was　Mrs　Elizabeth　Porter；　a　widow　who　had　children　as　old　as　himself。　　To　ordinary　spectators；　the　lady　appeared　to　be　a　short；　fat；　coarse　woman；　painted　half　an　inch　thick；　dressed　in　gaudy　colours；　and　fond　of　exhibiting　provincial　airs　and　graces　which　were　not　exactly　those　of　the　Queensberrys　and　Lepels。　　To　Johnson；　however；　whose　passions　were　strong；　whose　eyesight　was　too　weak　to　distinguish　ceruse　from　natural　bloom；　and　who　had　seldom　or　never　been　in　the　same　room　with　a　woman　of　real　fashion；　his　Titty；　as　he　called　her；　was　the　most　beautiful；　graceful；　and　accomplished　of　her　sex。　　That　his　admiration　was　unfeigned　cannot　be　doubted；　for　she　was　as　poor　as　himself。　　She　accepted；　with　a　readiness　which　did　her　little　honour；　the　addresses　of　a　suitor　who　might　have　been　her　son。　　The　marriage；　however；　in　spite　of　occasional　wranglings；　proved　happier　than　might　have　been　expected。　　The　lover　continued　to　be　under　the　illusions　of　the　wedding…day　till　the　lady　died　in　her　sixty…fourth　year。　　On　her　monument　he　placed　an　inscription　extolling　the　charms　of　her　person　and　of　her　manners；　and　when；　long　after　her　decease；　he　had　occasion　to　mention　her；　he　exclaimed；　with　a　tenderness　half　ludicrous；　half　pathetic；　〃Pretty　creature！〃　His　marriage　made　it　necessary　for　him　to　exert　himself　more　strenuously　than　he　had　hitherto　done。　　He　took　a　house　in　the　neighbourhood　of　his　native　town；　and　advertised　for　pupils。　　But　eighteen　months　passed　away；　and　only　three　pupils　came　to　his　academy。　　Indeed；　his　appearance　was　so　strange；　and　his　temper　so　violent；　that　his　schoolroom　must　have　resembled　an　ogre's　den。　　Nor　was　the　tawdry　painted　grandmother　whom　he　called　his　Titty　well　qualified　to　make　provision　for　the　comfort　of　young　gentlemen。　　David　Garrick；　who　was　one　of　the　pupils；　used；　many　years　later；　to　throw　the　best　company　of　London　into　convulsions　of　laughter　by　mimicking　the　endearments　of　this　extraordinary　pair。　At　length　Johnson；　in　the　twenty…eighth　year　of　his　age；　determined　to　seek　his　fortune　in　the　capital　as　a　literary　adventurer。　　He　set　out　with　a　few　guineas；　three　acts　of　the　tragedy　of　Irene　in　manuscript；　and　two　or　three　letters　of　introduction　from　his　friend　Walmesley。　Never；　since　literature　became　a　calling　in　England；　had　it　been　a　less　gainful　calling　than　at　the　time　when　Johnson　took　up　his　residence　in　London。　　In　the　preceding　generation　a　writer　of　eminent　merit　was　sure　to　be　munificently　rewarded　by　the　government。　　The　least　that　he　could　expect　was　a　pension　or　a　sinecure　place；　and；　if　he　showed　any　aptitude　for　politics；　he　might　hope　to　be　a　member　of　parliament；　a　lord　of　the　treasury；　an　ambassador；　a　secretary　of　state。　　It　would　be　easy；　on　the　other　hand；　to　name　several　writers　of　the　nineteenth　century　of　whom　the　least　successful　has　received　forty　thousand　pounds　from　the　booksellers。　　But　Johnson　entered　on　his　vocation　in　the　most　dreary　part　of　the　dreary　interval　which　separated　two　ages　of　prosperity。　　Literature　had　ceased　to　flourish　under　the　patronage　of　the　great；　and　had　not　begun　to　flourish　under　the　patronage　of　the　public。　　One　man　of　letters；　indeed；　Pope；　had　acquired　by　his　pen　what　was　then　considered　as　a　handsome　fortune；　and　lived　on　a　footing　of　equality　with　nobles　and　ministers　of　state。　　But　this　was　a　solitary　exception。　　Even　an　author　whose　reputation　was　established；　and　whose　works　were　popular；　such　an　author　as　Thomson；　whose　Seasons　were　in　every　library；　such　an　author　as　Fielding；　whose　Pasquin　had　had　a　greater　run　than　any　drama　since　The　Beggar's　Opera；　was　sometimes　glad　to　obtain；　by　pawning　his　best　coat；　the　means　of　dining　on　tripe　at　a　cookshop　underground；　where　he　could　wipe　his　hands；　after　his　greasy　meal；　on　the　back　of　a　Newfoundland　dog。　　It　is　easy；　therefore；　to　imagine　what　humiliations　and　privations　must　have　awaited　the　novice　who　had　still　to　earn　a　name。　　One　of　the　publishers　to　whom　Johnson　applied　for　employment　measured　with　a　scornful　eye　that　athletic　though　uncouth　frame；　and　exclaimed；　〃You　had　better　get　a　porter's　knot；　and　carry　trunks。〃　　Nor　was　the　advice　bad；　for　a　porter　was　likely　to　be　as　plentifully　fed；　and　as　comfortably　lodged；　as　a　poet。　Some　time　appears　to　have　elapsed　before　Johnson　was　able　to　form　any　literary　connection　from　which　he　could　expect　more　than　bread　for　the　day　which　was　passing　over　him。　　He　never　forgot　the　generosity　with　which　Hervey；　who　was　now　residing　in　London；　relieved　his　wants　during　this　time　of　trial。　　〃Harry　Hervey；〃　said　the　old　philosopher　many　years　later；　〃was　a　vicious　man；　but　he　was　very　kind　to　me。　　If　you　call　a　dog　Hervey　I　shall　love　him。〃　　At　Hervey's　table　Johnson　sometimes　enjoyed　feasts　which　were　made　more　agreeable　by　contrast。　　But　in　general　he　dined；　and　thought　that　he　dined　well；　on　sixpenny　worth　of　meat；　and　a　pennyworth　of　bread；　at　an　alehouse　near　Drury　Lane。　The　effect　of　the　privations　and　sufferings　which　he　endured　at　this　time　was　discernible　to　the　last　in　his　temper　and　his　deportment。　　His　manners　had　never　been　courtly。　　They　now　became　almost　savage。　　Being　frequently　under　the　necessity　of　wearing　shabby　coats　and　dirty　shirts；　he　became　a　confirmed　sloven。　　Being　often　very　hungry　when　he　sat　down　to　his　meals；　he　contracted　a　habit　of　eating　with　ravenous　greediness。　　Even　to　the　end　of　his　life；　and　even　at　the　tables　of　the　great；　the　sight　of　food　affected　him　as　it　affects　wild　beasts　and　birds　of　prey。　　His　taste　in　cookery；　formed　in　subterranean　ordinaries　and　alamode　beefshops；　was　far　from　delicate。　　Whenever　he　was　so　fortunate　as　to　have　near　him　a　hare　that