Johnson’s essays included numerous short fictions, but his only long fiction is Rasselas (originally published as The Prince of Abissinia: A Tale), which he wrote in 1759, during the evenings of a single week, in order to be able to pay for the funeral of his mother. This “Oriental tale,” a popular form at the time, explores and exposes the futility of the pursuit of happiness, a theme that links it to The Vanity of Human Wishes. Prince Rasselas, weary of life in the Happy Valley, where ironically all are dissatisfied, escapes with his sister and the widely traveled poet Imlac to experience the world and make a thoughtful “choice of life.” Yet their journey is filled with disappointment and disillusionment. They examine the lives of men in a wide range of occupations and modes of life in both urban and rural settings—rulers and shepherds, philosophers, scholars, an astronomer, and a hermit. They discover that all occupations fail to bring satisfaction. Rulers are deposed. The shepherds exist in grubby ignorance, not pastoral ease. The Stoic’s philosophy proves hollow when he experiences personal loss. The hermit, miserable in his solitude, leaves his cell for Cairo. In his “conclusion in which nothing is concluded,” Johnson satirizes the wish-fulfilling daydreams in which all indulge. His major characters resolve to substitute the “choice of eternity” for the “choice of life,” and to return to Abyssinia (but not the Happy Valley) on their circular journey.
Johnson never again had to write in order to raise funds. In 1762 he was awarded a pension of £300 a year, “not,” as Lord Bute, the prime minister, told him, “given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have done.” This in all likelihood meant not only his literary accomplishments but also his opposition to the Seven Years’ War, which the new king, George III, and his prime minister had also opposed. Although in his Dictionary Johnson had added to his definition of “pension,” “In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country,” he believed that he could accept his with a clear conscience.
Friendships and household
In 1763 Johnson met the 22-year-old James Boswell, who would go on to make him the subject of the best-known and most highly regarded biography in English. The first meeting with this libertine son of a Scottish laird and judge was not auspicious, but Johnson quickly came to appreciate the ingratiating and impulsive young man. Boswell kept detailed journals, published only in the 20th century, which provided the basis for his biography of Johnson and also form his own autobiography.
Johnson participated actively in clubs. In 1764 he and his close friend Sir Joshua Reynolds founded The Club (later known as The Literary Club), which became famous for the distinction of its members. The original nine members included the politician Edmund Burke, the playwright Oliver Goldsmith, and Sir John Hawkins, the historian of music whom Johnson was to call “unclubable.” Boswell, whose 1768 account of the Corsican struggle against Genoese rule and its revolutionary leader, General Pasquale Paoli, earned him a reputation throughout Europe, was admitted in 1773. Other members elected later included Garrick, the historian Edward Gibbon, the dramatist Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the economist and moral philosopher Adam Smith, and the Orientalist Sir William Jones. In 1749 Johnson had been one of 10 members of the Ivy Lane Club, and the year before his death he founded The Essex Head Club. These clubs, at which he often “talked for victory,” provided the conversation and society he desired and kept him from the loneliness and insomnia that he faced at home.
This is not to say that his house was empty after the death of his wife. He had living with him at various times Anna Williams, a blind poet; Elizabeth Desmoulins, the daughter of his godfather Dr. Samuel Swynfen, and her daughter; Poll Carmichael, probably a former prostitute; “Dr.” Robert Levett, a medical practitioner among the poor; Francis Barber, Johnson’s black servant, whom he treated in many ways like a son and made his heir; and Barber’s wife Betsy. They were at once recipients of Johnson’s charity and providers of company, but the relationship among them was not always amicable. In a letter of 1778 Johnson says, “We have tolerable concord at home, but no love. Williams hates everybody; Levett hates Desmoulins, and does not love Williams; Desmoulins hates them both; Poll loves none of them.”
In 1765 Johnson established a friendship that soon enabled him to call another place “home.” Henry Thrale, a wealthy brewer and member of Parliament for Southwark, and his lively and intelligent wife, Hester, opened their country house at Streatham to him and invited him on trips to Wales and, in 1775, to France, his only tour outside Great Britain. Their friendship and hospitality gave the 56-year-old Johnson a new interest in life. Following her husband’s death in 1781 and her marriage to her children’s music master, Gabriel Piozzi, Hester Thrale’s and Johnson’s close friendship came to an end. His letters to Mrs. Thrale, remarkable for their range and intimacy, helped make him one of the great English letter writers.
The edition of Shakespeare of Samuel Johnson
The pension Johnson had received in 1762 had freed him from the necessity of writing for a living, but it had not released him from his obligation to complete the Shakespeare edition, for which he had taken money from subscribers. His long delay in bringing that project to fruition provoked some satiric notice from the poet Charles Churchill:
He for subscribers baits his hook,
And takes their cash—but where’s the book?
The edition finally appeared in eight volumes in 1765. Johnson edited and annotated the text and wrote a preface, which is his greatest work of literary criticism. As editor and annotator he sought to establish the text, freed from later corruptions, and to explain diction that by then had become obsolete and obscure. Johnson’s approach was to immerse himself in the books Shakespeare had read—his extensive reading for his Dictionary eased this task—and to examine the early editions as well as those of his 18th-century predecessors. His annotations are often shrewd, though his admiration reveals at times different concerns from those of some of his contemporaries and of later scholars.
In his “Preface” Johnson addressed several critical issues. For one, he vigorously defends Shakespeare against charges of failing to adhere to the Neoclassical doctrine of the dramatic unities of time, place, and action. Johnson alertly observes that time and place are subservient to the mind: since the audience does not confound stage action with reality, it has no trouble with a shift in scene from Rome to Alexandria. Some critics had made similar points before, but Johnson’s defense was decisive. He also questions the need for purity of dramatic genre. In defending Shakespearian tragicomedy against detractors, he asserts that “there is always an appeal open from criticism to nature.” Echoing Hamlet, Johnson claims that Shakespeare merits praise, above all, as “the poet of nature; the poet that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life.” He goes on to say that “in the writings of other poets a character is too often an individual: in those of Shakespeare it is commonly a species” and that “Shakespeare has no heroes; his scenes are occupied only by men.” These comments inveigh against the rigid notions of decorum upheld by critics, such as Voltaire, who would not allow kings to be drunkards or senators to be buffoons. Johnson’s concern for “general nature” means that he is not much interested in accidental traits of a character, such as the “Romanness” of Julius Caesar or Brutus, but in traits that are common to all humanity.
Dr. Johnson
In 1765 Johnson received an honorary Doctor of Laws degree from Trinity College, Dublin, and 10 years later he was awarded the Doctor of Civil Laws from the University of Oxford. He never referred to himself as Dr. Johnson, though a number of his contemporaries did, and Boswell’s consistent use of the title in The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. made it popular. The completion of the Shakespeare edition left Johnson free to write by choice, and one such choice was his secret collaboration with Robert Chambers, professor of English law at the University of Oxford from 1766 to 1773. While it is difficult to determine just how much of Chambers’ lectures Johnson may have written, his help was clearly substantial, and the skilled editor was valued by the dilatory professor.
Political pamphlets
In the early 1770s Johnson wrote a series of political pamphlets supporting positions favourable to the government but in keeping with his own views. These have often appeared reactionary to posterity but are worth considering on their own terms. The False Alarm (1770) supported the resolution of the House of Commons not to readmit one of its members, the scandalous John Wilkes, who had been found guilty of libel. The pamphlet ridiculed those who thought the case precipitated a constitutional crisis. Thoughts on the Late Transactions Respecting Falkland’s Islands (1771) argued against a war with Spain over who should become “the undisputed lords of tempest-beaten barrenness.” This pamphlet, his most-admired and least-attacked, disputes the “feudal gabble” of the earl of Chatham and the complaints of the pseudonymous political controversialist who wrote the “Junius” letters.
The Patriot (1774) was designed to influence an upcoming election. Johnson had become disillusioned in the 1740s with those members of the political opposition who attacked the government on “patriotic” grounds only to behave similarly once in power. This essay examines expressions of false patriotism and includes in that category justifications of “the ridiculous claims of American usurpation,” the subject of his longest tract, Taxation No Tyranny (1775). The title summarizes his position opposing the American Continental Congress, which in 1774 had passed resolutions against taxation by England, perceived as oppression, especially since the colonies had no representation in Parliament. Johnson argues that the colonists had not been denied representation but rather had willingly left the country where they had votes, that England had expended vast sums on the colonies, and that they were rightly required to support the home country. The tract became notorious in the colonies, contributing considerably to the caricature of Johnson the arch-Tory. Yet this view is too simplistic. His rhetorical question to the colonists “How is it that we hear the loudest yelps for liberty from the drivers of Negroes?” can be traced in large part to a principled and consistent stance against colonial oppression.
Journey to the Hebrides
In 1773 Johnson set forth on a journey to the Hebrides. Given his age, ailments, and purported opinion of the Scots, Johnson may have seemed a highly unlikely traveler to this distant region, but in the opening pages of his A Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland (1775) he confessed to a long-standing desire to make the trip and the inducement of having Boswell as his companion. He was propelled by a curiosity to see strange places and study modes of life unfamiliar to him. His book, a superb contribution to 18th-century travel literature, combines historical information with what would now be considered sociological and anthropological observations about the lives of common people. (Boswell’s complementary narrative of their journey, The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, with its rich store of Johnson’s conversation, was published only in 1785, the year after Johnson’s death.)