should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore; he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a goldlaced hat. He humourously observed to Mr. Langton, ‘that when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes.' Dress indeed, we must allow, has more effect even upon strong minds than one should suppose, without having had the experience of it. His necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers of both sexes, which produced a more favourable opinion of their profession than he had harshly expressed in his Life of Savage. With some of them he kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to shew them acts of kindness. He for a considerable time used to frequent the Green Room, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there. Mr. David Hume related to me from Mr. Garrick, that Johnson at last denied himself this amusement, from considerations of rigid virtue; saying, 'I'll come no more behind your scenes, David; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities.'

The

1750: ÆTAT. 41.]—IN 1750 he came forth in the character for which he was eminently qualified, a majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom. The vehicle which he chose was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had been, upon former occasions, employed with great success. Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, were the last of the kind published in England, which had stood the test of a long trial; and such an interval had now elapsed since their publication, as made him justly think that, to many of his readers, this form of instruction would, in some degree, have the advantage of novelty. A few days before the first of his Essays came out, there started another competitor for fame in the same form, under the title of The Tatler Revived, which I believe was born but to die.' Johnson was, I think, not very happy in the choice of his title, The Rambler, which certainly is not suited to a series of grave and moral discourses; which

1750]

THE RAMBLER

47

the Italians have literally, but ludicrously translated by Il Vagabondo; and which has been lately assumed as the denomination of a vehicle of licentious tales, The Rambler's Magazine. He gave Sir Joshua Reynolds the following account of its getting this name: 'What must be done, Sir, will be done. When I was to begin publishing that paper, I was at a loss how to name it. I sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that I would not go to sleep till I had fixed its title. The Rambler seemed the best that occurred, and I took it.'

With what devout and conscientious sentiments this paper was undertaken, is evidenced by the following prayer, which he composed and offered up on the occasion: 'Almighty GOD, the giver of all good things, without whose help all labour is ineffectual, and without whose grace all wisdom is folly; grant, I beseech Thee, that in this undertaking thy Holy Spirit may not be with-held from me, but that I may promote thy glory, and the salvation of myself and others: grant this, O LORD, for the sake of thy son JESUS CHRIST. Amen.'

The first paper of The Rambler was published on Tuesday the 20th of March, 1750; and its authour was enabled to continue it, without interruption, every Tuesday and Friday, till Saturday the 17th of March, 1752, on which day it closed. This is a strong confirmation of the truth of a remark of his, which I have had occasion to quote elsewhere, that ‘a man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly to it;' for, notwithstanding his constitutional indolence, his depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his Dictionary, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a week from the stores of his mind, during all that time.

Posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the authority of Johnson himself, that many of these discourses, which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed. It can be accounted for only in this way; that by reading and meditation, and a very close inspection of life, he had accumulated a great fund of miscellaneous

knowledge, which, by a peculiar promptitude of mind, ever ready at his call, and which he had constantly a tomed himself to clothe in the most apt and energ expression. Sir Joshua Reynolds once asked him by means he had attained his extraordinary accuracy and of language. He told him, that he had early laid it dow a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in e company; to impart whatever he knew in the most for language he could put it in; and that by constant prac and never suffering any careless expressions to escape or attempting to deliver his thoughts without arran them in the clearest manner, it became habitual to him.

As The Rambler was entirely the work of one man, t was, of course, such a uniformity in its texture, as very m to exclude the charm of variety; and the grave and o solemn cast of thinking, which distinguished it from o periodical papers, made it, for some time, not generally lil So slowly did this excellent work, of which twelve edit have now issued from the press, gain upon the world at la that even in the closing number the authour says, 'I h never been much a favourite of the publick.'

Johnson told me, with an amiable fondness, a little pl ing circumstance relative to this work. Mrs. Johnson whose judgement and taste he had great confidence, said him, after a few numbers of The Rambler had come c 'I thought very well of you before; but I did not imag you could have written any thing equal to this.' Dist praise, from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as tha a wife whom a man loves and esteems. Her approbat may be said to 'come home to his bosom;' and being near, its effect is most sensible and permanent.

Mr. James Elphinston, who has since published vari works, and who was ever esteemed by Johnson as a wor man, happened to be in Scotland while The Rambler coming out in single papers at London. With a lauda zeal at once for the improvement of his countrymen, and reputation of his friend, he suggested and took the cha

r he wrote to the same gentleman upon a mourn

'To MR. JAMES ELPHINSTON.

September 25, 1750. IR, You have, as I find by every kind of evidence, ellent mother; and I hope you will not think me f partaking of your grief. I have a mother, now years of age, whom, therefore, I must soon lose, ease GOD that she rather should mourn for me. I tters in which you relate your mother's death to an, and think I do myself honour, when I tell you I them with tears; but tears are neither to you f any further use, when once the tribute of nature id. The business of life summons us away from f, and calls us to the exercise of those virtues of e lamenting our deprivation. The greatest benene friend can confer upon another, is to guard, and elevate his virtues. This your mother will a, if you diligently preserve the memory of her her death: a life, so far as I can learn, useful, nocent; and a death resigned, peaceful, and holy. rbear to mention, that neither reason nor revelayou to hope, that you may increase her happiness her precepts; and that she may, in her present with pleasure upon every act of virtue to which ions or example have contributed. Whether this n a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of separate ndeed, of no great importance to us, when we rselves as acting under the eye of GOD: yet, e is something pleasing in the belief, that our rom those whom we love is merely corporeal; be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if ade probable, that that union that has received

read it with great pleasure, and receive from it many hints of soothing recollection, when time shall remove her yet farther from you, and your grief shall be matured to veneration. To this, however painful for the present, I cannot but advise you, as to a source of comfort and satisfaction in the time to come; for all comfort and all satisfaction is sincerely wished you by, dear Sir, your most obliged, most obedient, and most humble servant,

'SAM. JOHNSON.'

The Rambler has increased in fame as in age. Soon after its first folio edition was concluded, it was published in six duodecimo volumes; and its authour lived to see ten numerous editions of it in London, beside those of Ireland and Scotland.

The style of Johnson was, undoubtedly, much formed upon that of the great writers in the last century, Hooker, Bacon, Sanderson, Hakewell, and others; those 'GIANTS,' as they were well characterised by A GREAT PERSONAGE, whose authority, were I to name him, would stamp a reverence on the opinion.

Johnson assured me, that he had not taken upon him to add more than four or five words to the English language, of his own formation; and he was very much offended at the general licence, by no means 'modestly taken' in his time, not only to coin new words, but to use many words in senses quite different from their established meaning, and those frequently very fantastical.

Sir Thomas Brown, whose life Johnson wrote, was remarkably fond of Anglo-Latin diction; and to his example we are to ascribe Johnson's sometimes indulging himself in this kind of phraseology. Johnson's comprehension of mind was. the mould for his language. Had his conceptions been nar-rower, his expression would have been easier. His sentences have a dignified march; and, it is certain, that his example has given a general elevation to the language of his country, for many of our best writers have approached very near to him; and, from the influence which he has had upon our composition, scarcely any thing is written now that is not.