baneful effects of the drug; but all the charm which lay in the name of Palmyra and the romantic interest of the trip, was gone. I was without courage and without energy, and nothing remained for me but to leave Damascus.

Two days afterwards, weak in body and still at times confused in my perceptions, I started for Baalbec. On the first day we visited the fountains of the Barrada, or Pharpar, and slept at Zebdeni, a village in an upland valley among the peaks of the Anti-Lebanon. The pure mountain air, and the healing balm of the night's sleep completed my cure. The next morning, as I rode along the valley, with the towering, snow-sprinkled ridge of the Anti-Lebanon on my right, a cloudless heaven above my head, and meads enamelled with the asphodel and scarlet anemone stretching before me, I felt that the last shadow had rolled away from my brain. My mind was now as clear as that sky, my heart as free and joyful as the elastic morning air. The sun never shone so brightly to my eyes, the fair forms of nature were never penetrated with so perfect a spirit of beauty. I was again master of myself, and the world

glowed as if new-created in the light of my joy and gratitude. I thanked God who had led me out of a darkness more terrible than that of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and while my feet strayed among the flowery meadows of Lebanon, my heart walked on the Delectable Hills of His mercy.

Yet, fearful as my rash experiment proved to me, I did not regret having made it. It revealed to me deeps of rapture and of suffering which my natural faculties never could have sounded. It has taught me the majesty of human reason and of human will, even in the weakest, and the awful peril of tampering with that which assails their integrity. I have here faithfully and fully written out my experience, on account of the lesson which it may convey to others. If I have unfortunately failed in my design, and have but awakened that restless curiosity which I have endeavored to forestall, let me beg all who are thereby led to repeat the experiment upon themselves, that they be content to take the portion of hasheesh which is considered sufficient for one man, and not, like me, swallow enough for six.

"WHAT 2315 "How were his first HAT did his contemporaries think of him ?" How naturally

productions received ? "

these queries occur to us, when contemplating the literary character of those who have inscribed their names upon the scroll of Fame! Could there be a more delightful book than "The Judgment of Contemporaries upon the Great Writers of the World?" In English literature alone, what a Boswellian popularity would that work-not secure, but"jump into," which should give us"Things said and written of British authors and their works, during their lives." Or, if our prospectus be too ambitious, let us have Dicta Collectanea concerning any dozen of the most renowned heroes of the " grey goose quill." In this point of view, how rich a mine of literary wealth have we in the 237 volumes of the "Monthly Review; " containing contemporary opinion upon the productions of genius for almost a century (1749-1842).

We do not refer simply to the "Monthly Reviewers'" opinions; but, be it remembered, they record and judge, not only any particular author's works, but also the answers, attacks, and private reviews of all kinds, which the said author's works elicited. For instance: did Samuel Johnson, LL.D., vindicate the suicidal policy, against which Chatham and Burke protested, in his "Taxation no Tyranny," published March 1, 1775? The "Monthly Review" of only two months later, proves that we rebels " had stanch champions of the "Bis dat, qui cito dat" school; for the May number records no less than five responses to the gruff old doctor, the very titles of which stir our blood, as did the first Pitt's"I rejoice that America has resisted!". nerve the arms, and strengthen the hearts of our patriot forefathers! E. G. "Resistance no Rebellion," "Taxation Tyranny, "&c. But we anticipate. Indeed, no one can have a correct idea of the literary career of any eminent author, without

a knowledge of the opposition and criticism he elicited, as well as of the praise with which his efforts were rewarded. Knowledge of this kind can only be found, in extenso, in the reviews of the day. We shall greatly err if we seek for both sides, where we have a right to look for only one,-in literary biographies. The post of biographer generally presupposes that of admirer. Men do not often write lives of those whom they despise or hate. Cibber may write "Letters to Pope," and Pope may return the compliment by impaling his martyred correspondent on the highest stake of that "infernal machine" -that poetical "Cheval de Frise "-the terrible"Dunciad;" but we should not expect either to become the other's biographer. The biographer naturally becomes, if he do not commence, a partisan; and the tendency of partisanship is, to engender contempt for the opinions of those who do not share our enthusiasm. Boswell was a most minute and painstaking chronicler; but had he not more respect for that gigantic cat, "Hodge," of which his "guide, philosopher, and friend was so fond," than for any score of the doctor's literary assailants? We shall, therefore, proceed to glean, for our readers' edification, from the "Monthly Review" (principally), what he will in vain seek in other departments of literature, a catalogue raisonné of contemporary opinions upon the productions of a man, who will always be admired, often loved, as frequently disliked, but never despised. We gaze upon the serene radiance of the star with complacency; with terror upon the lurid glare of a comet; with contempt only upon the "ineffectual fire" of the ignis-fatuus.

We shall not confine ourselves to the "Review," but shall draw from other sources, or intersperse our own comments, as we may think fit. The first notice which we find of Johnson as a writer ("Irene," and some periodical contributions, had been previously composed), is in the "( Gentleman's Magazine" for May, 1738; where, on page 269, we have: "Short EXTRACTS from LONDON: a POEM, written in imitation of the third SATIRE of JUVENAL; and become remarkable for having got to the second edition in the space of a week." This was a good beginning, surely! It is on page 156 of this volume (March, 1738), that we find our author's first ascertained contribution to this venerable magazine; a history of which periodical would be most interesting, and may hereafter be attempted for "Putnam's Monthly." The contribution VOL. III.-27

referred to, "Ad Urbanum," is thus prefaced: "All men of sense, as far as we can find, having condemned the rude treatment given to Mr. URBAN by certain booksellers, whose names are not worth the mention already made of them, we hope it will not be thought any ostentation to let the reader see a few of the pieces sent in his favor by correspondents of all degrees; especially as no objection can be made to some of them but his being accessory to their publication." It is worthy of note, that he who was so largely beholden to booksellers, and to whom, in return, booksellers were so largely indebted, thus at the outset of his literary career, took up his lance in defence of a bookseller, against his rivals in the same trade.

Nearly four years before this, the young author had endeavored to form a connection with Cave's successful monthly pamphlet; for in November, 1734, he gives the publisher a hint that no common talents were in the market place, “because no man had hired them."

Sir,-As you appear no less sensible than your readers of the defects of your poetical article, you will not be displeased, if, in order to the improvement of it, I communicate to you the sentiments of a person who will undertake, on reasonable terms, sometimes to fill a column.

"This opinion is, that the public would not give you a bad reception, if, beside the current wit of the month, which a critical examination would generally reduce to a narrow compass, you admitted not only poems, inscriptions, &c., never printed before, which he will sometimes supply you with, but likewise short literary dissertations in Latin or English, critical remarks on Authors ancient or modern, forgotten poems that deserve revival, or loose pieces, like Floyer's, worth preserving. By this method, your literary article, for so it might be called, will, he thinks, be better recommended to the public than by low jests, awkward buffoonery, or the dull scurrilities of either party.

"If such a correspondence will be agreeable to you, be pleased to inform me in two posts what the conditions are on which you shall expect it. Your late offer gives me no reason to distrust your generosity. [A prize of £50 for the best poem.] If you engage in any literary projects beside this paper, I have other designs to impart, if I could be secure from having others reap the advantage of what I should hint. Your letter by being directed to S. Smith, to be left at the Castle, in Birmingham, Warwickshire, will

reach, &c." (Boswell's Life of Johnson.)

To us, there is something exceedingly touching in this modest attempt to gain the uncertain bread of a literary hack. Poor Johnson! perhaps he could have signed this letter, as he did a later one to Cave, "Impransus." We remember that Walter Scott, somewhere speaks of the effect which this little word had upon his feelings. Many a breakfast, no doubt, he lacked in this straitened season of his life. Are there not many such sons of want, even now, around us? And shall we not willingly communicate of that which hath been bountifully intrusted to our stewardship?

"London, a Poem, in imitation of the third Satire of Juvenal," was published in May, 1738; and we have seen, to repeat the quaint language of the "Gentleman's Magazine," that it had "become remarkable for having got to the Second Edition in the space of a week."

The young author thought it prudent to see what reception his offspring would meet with in the world, before he acknowledged paternity. In his letter to Cave he says that, he has "the inclosed poem in my hands to dispose of for the benefit of the author (of whose abilities I shall say nothing, since I send you his performance.) I cannot help taking notice, that besides what the author may hope for on account of his abilities, he has likewise another claim to your regard, as he lies at present under very disadvantageous circumstances of fortune. By exerting on this occasion your usual generosity, you will not only encourage learning and relieve distress, &c." Cave would not venture to publish the poem, but he seems to have exerted his generosity; for Johnson returns thanks for "the present you were so kind as to send by me." "I am very sensible from your generosity on this occasion, of your regard to learning, even in its unhappiest state; and cannot but think such a temper deserving of the gratitude of those who suffer so often from a contrary disposition."

....

How little did the obscure, yet kind, bookseller then foresee, that this half famished youth should become so illustrious in the world of letters, that the greatest honor which attaches to the name of Cave, should be the fact of the object of his opportune bounty becoming his biographer! To say that the booksellers refused to purchase "London," is to say but little. A curious work would that be, which should give us a full list of the great works which have

been refused by a dozen of booksellers, each. Boswell quotes Derrick as aiming a poetical dart against this Opproborium Bibliopolarum (to coin a new phrase):—

"Will no kind patron Johnson own?

Shall Johnson, friendless, range the town?
And every publisher refuse

The Offspring of his happy Muse?" No! Dodsley will take it! and what's more, he will give ten guineas for it! The author says: "I might perhaps have accepted of less; but that Paul Whitehead had a little before got ten guineas for a poem, and I would not take less than Paul Whitehead." Ten guineas strikes us as cheap for "London:" and yet it was as much again as Milton got for "Paradise Lost," (saving contingencies, which increased the sum, afterwards.) "London" was published on the same day with Pope's Satire of "1738;" and the youthful satirist did not suffer by the comparison; for people said: "Here is an unknown poet, greater even than Pope." General Oglethorpe (what Georgian does not feel his heart beat faster at the name?) adopted "London at once; and lived to see its author among the foremost in rank; surviving him about six months.

Pope set young Richardson to work, to find out who this formidable rival was. Mr. Richardson brought back the information, that he had discovered only that his name was Johnson, and that he was some obscure man. "He will soon be déterré," replied Pope. This was not the only instance in which he displayed a commendable generosity to the rising star; for from the perusal of "London," alone, he recommended him to Earl Gower, when Johnson (in the next year) sought a degree "to qualify him for the mastership of a Charity School." The similarity between "London" and Pope's style is very observable. The "Vanity of Human Wishes," essays a more dignified strain. Garrick accounts for this in his own manner. "When Johnson lived much with the Herveys, and saw a good deal of what was passing in life, he wrote his 'London,' which is lively and easy: when he became more retired, he gave us his 'Vanity of Human Wishes,' which is as hard as Greek: had he gone on to imitate another satire, it would have been as hard as Hebrew."

And yet, flippant little David! thy old school-fellow wrote a hundred lines a day of this poem, if it is "all Greek" to thee! Hard as it was to thee, David, it softened a greater man to tears: for Walter Scott tells us: "The deep and pathetic morality

of The Vanity of Human Wishes, has often extracted tears from those whose eyes wander dry over pages professedly sentimental." Aye, it drew tears from the eyes of the author himself. George Lewis Scott describes a very interesting little family gathering at Thrale's, when Dr. Johnson read aloud his satire; when he recounted the difficulties of the poor, struggling scholar, he "burst into a passion of tears." Poor fellow! he remembered those days when he subscribed himself impransus! No longer subject to the pangs of hunger, he now had "all that heart could wish: 'plenty,' honor, love, obedience, troops of friends;" but his mind reverted to those bitter days of penury, when he wandered in the streets for want of a lodging, and in the garb of poverty, devoured his dinner, furnished by the hand of charity, behind the curtain at good Mr. Cave's! How had his condition changed! We need not marvel at those outpourings of a grateful heart, which gush forth in his quiet hours of meditation, and solemn seasons of prayer. The great Being on whose goodness and protection he confidently relied in the day of destitution, and hour of trial, had not disappointed his hope! He had "brought him to great honor, and comforted him on every side!" This he deeply felt; and, however at times arrogant and harsh to his fellow men, he ever, as Bishop Horne well says, "walked humbly before the Lord his God."

We must not quit the "Vanity of Human Wishes, without quoting, also, Walter Scott's remark to Ballantyne;

he had often said to me, that neither his own, nor any modern popular style of composition, was that from which he derived most pleasure. I asked him what it was. He answered, Johnson's; and that he had more pleasure in reading 'London,' and the 'Vanity of Human Wishes,' than any other poetical composition he could mention; and I think I never saw his countenance more indicative of high admiration, than while reciting aloud from these productions." (Lockhart's Scott.) Lord Byron gives us his opinions in his Ravenna Diary: "Read Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes, all the examples and mode of giving them are sublime, as well as the latter part, with the exception of an ocasional couplet. 'Tis a grand poem-so true! True as the 10th of Juvenal himself. The lapse of ages changes all things-time-language -the earth-the bounds of the sea-the stars of the sky, and every thing about, around, and underneath man, except man

himself, who has always been, and always will be, an unlucky rascal. The infinite variety of lives, conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes, leads but to disappointment."

Lockhart informs us that, the last line of MS. that Scott sent to the press, was a quotation from the "Vanity of Human Wishes." We must apologize for lingering so long on the way; but where there are so many flowers on every side, soliciting our notice, it is difficult to make much speed.

The first notice of Johnson which we find in the "Monthly Review," is in Vol. 6 (1752). "Four volumes of the Rambler, 12mo. 12s. Payne & Bouquet. These four volumes contain 136 numbers of this excellent paper, out of 200 now published; and still continued on Tuesdays and Saturdays." The first number of the 99 Rambler was published on Tuesday, March 20, 1749-1750, and the last on Saturday, 17th (14th in fact) March, 1752; 208 numbers in all; never having missed a publication day. Would that all authors who seek to advance the interests of religion and morality, were as conscientious as the author of the "Rambler" in imploring the aid of that Divine grace, "without which, nothing is strong, nothing is holy." "Grant, I beseech thee," supplicates the pious writer, "that in this undertaking, thy Holy Spirit may not be withheld from me, but that I may promote thy, glory, and the salvation [both] of myself and others."

The "Rambler" excited but little attention at first. Croker seems to question Payne's assertion to Chalmers, that Richardson's essay, No. 97, was the "only paper which had a prosperous sale, and was popular." But the ladies will side with Payne, when they discover by inspection what "No. 97" is about. We shall not inform them; and, indeed, we strictly forbid any of our female readers to turn to this mysterious paper. If in this Blue-Beard prohibition, we meet with the same measure of obedience which was ac

corded to our "illustrious predecessor," we must e'en digest it as we may. Boswell, who, with Croker, has our general acknowledgments, enlarges upon this and other publications of his Dominie's, at greater length than we can afford. Suffice it to give a few interesting facts, for which the busy, or the idle reader who will not take the trouble to look for himself, will please consider himself obliged. The good Doctor was sorely put to it to find a name for his child. He told Sir Joshua Reynolds, "What must be done,

sir, will be done. When I began 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."

The Doctor wrote the whole of the 208 papers, with the exception of "four billets in No. 10, by Miss Mulso (afterwards Mrs. Chapone); No. 30, by Mrs. Catherine Talbot; No. 97 by Richardson, and Nos. 44 and 100, by Mrs. Elizabeth Carter." Of the 204, thirty only were "worked up" from previously prepared materials. The "Rambler soon became appreciated by those who were capable of discerning merit. "The Student" speaks of it as a work that exceeds any thing of the kind ever published in this kingdom. May the public favors crown his merits, and may not the English under the auspicious reign of George the Second, neglect a man, who, had he lived in the first century, would have been one of the greatest favorites of Augustus." Cave received letters of commendation, newspaper verses appeared in its praise, and Elphinston superintended an Edinburgh edition, which followed the London issue. Richardson wrote to Cave, that Johnson was the only man who could write them; which Cave admitted, but complained that, good as they were, they were very slow sale. Even corpulent Mrs. Rambler, who has never been suspected of very exquisite literary sensibilities, was moved by these effusions of the "gude man's," and rewarded his labors with the very handsome speech,-"I thought very well of you before; but I did not imagine you could have written any thing equal to this." Notwithstanding the tardy sale, at first, the author had the satisfaction of surviving ten editions in London alone. We must not conceal the fact that, some unreasonable beings complained of the erudite dignity of the style; and declared that the author (a true "Yankee trick," we should call it) used the "hard words in the Rambler,' in order to render his Dictionary indispensably necessary!" Mr. Burke, who, like most truly great men, excelled in wit and humor, said that Johnson's ladies, his Misellas, Zorimas Properantias, and Rhodoclias,—were all "Johnsons in petticoats." This is much of a piece with Goldsmith's telling Johnson that if he were to write a piece in which little fishes had to talk, he would make them all talk like great whales !

In his contributions to the "Adventurer," the Doctor uses the stilts less; he

walks more; perhaps occasionally runs. Yet are we great admirers of "Johnsonese. Majestic diction was as natural to a man who thought in rounded periods, as was a disjointed chaos of the parts of speech, to many of his critics. So far from the elaborate verbal architecture, anxiously built up, and painfully cemented, which the reader supposed, the Ramblers were written just as they were wanted for the press; indeed, at times, the first half was in type before the remainder was on paper! Boswell gives us an amusing anecdote relative to the Italian cdition of the Rambler. "A foreign minister of no very high talents, who had been in his company for a considerable time, quite overlooked, happened, luckily, to mention that he had read some of his 'Rambler' in Italian, and admired it much. This pleased [Johnson] him greatly; he observed that the title had been translated It Genio errante, though I have been told it was rendered more ludicrously, Il Vagabando; and finding that this minister gave such a proof of his taste, he was all attention to him, and on the first remark which he made, however simple, exclaimed, 'The ambassador says well; his Excellency observes-;" and then he expanded and enriched the little that had been said, in so strong a manner, that it appeared something of consequence. This was exceedingly entertaining to the company who were present, and many a time afterwards it furnished a pleasant topic of merriment. 'The ambassador says well' became a laughable term of applause when no mighty matter had been expressed."

It deserves to be noticed, that the 110th number of the "Rambler" (on Repentance) was the means of deciding the Rev. James Compton, of the English Benedictine Monks, at Paris, to leave that body, and embrace the Protestant faith. How many devotees of the Greek Church it would have converted, we have, unfortunately, no means of knowing; yet the author thought, at one time, that it was about having the opportunity presented to it. Somehow or other, he heard that the Empress of Russia had ordered a translation of the Rambler into the Russian language. "So," says the author with a complacent smile, "I shall be read on the banks of the Wolga. Horace boasts that his fame would extend as far as the banks of the Rhone; now the Wolga is farther from me than the Rhone was from Horace." Whether this was the work of some wicked wag, or not, we cannot tell; but we believe that the Russian edition of the "Rambler" is even