mere superficial observations on life and manners, without erudition enough to make them keep, like the light French wines, which turn sour with standing a while for want of body, as we call it." 23. Style of Swift. A friend was praising the style of Dr. Swift; Mr. Johnson did not find himself in the humour to agree with him the critic was driven from one of his performances to the other. At length, 66 you must allow me," said the gentleman, "that there are strong facts in the account of the Four last Years of Queen Anne. 66 Yes, surely, Sir," replies Johnson," and so there are in the Ordinary of Newgate's account." 24. "New Manner of Writing." This was like the story which Mr. Murphy tells, and Johnson always acknowledged: how Dr. Rose of Chiswick, contending for the preference of Scotch writers over the English, after having set up his authors like nine-pins, while the Doctor kept bowling them down again; at last, to make sure of victory, he named Ferguson upon "Civil Society," and praised the book for being written in a new manner. "I do not," says Johnson," perceive the value of this new manner; it is only like Buckinger, who had no hands, and so wrote with his feet." 25. Robertson.— Canting. When he related to me a short dialogue that passed between himself and a writer of the first eminence in the world, when he was in Scotland, I was shocked to think how he must have disgusted him. Dr. Robertson asked me, said he, why I did not join in their public worship when among them?" for," said he, "I went to your churches often when in England. "So," re plied Johnson, "I have read that the Siamese sent ambassadors to Louis Quatorze, but I never heard that the king of France thought it worth his while to send ambassadors from his court to that of Siam." He was no gentler with myself, or those for whom I had the greatest regard. When I one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed in America; "Prithee, my dear," said he, "have done with canting: how would the world be worse for it, I may ask, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks, and roasted for Presto's supper? Presto was the dog that lay under the table while we talked. 26. Young Peas. When we went into Wales together, and spent some time at Sir Robert Cotton's at Lleweny, one day at dinner I meant to please Mr. Johnson particularly with a dish of very young peas. "Are not they charming?" said I to him, while he was eating them." Perhaps," said he, “ they would be so to a pig." 27. Warton's Poems. When a well known author published his poems in the year 1777: such a one's verses are come out, said I. "Yes," replied Johnson, "and this frost has struck them in again. Here are some lines I have written to ridicule them: but remember that I love the fellow dearly, now-for all I laugh at him: "Wheresoe'er I turn my view, All is strange, yet nothing new: Endless labour to be wrong; (1) The metre of these lines was no doubt suggested by Warton's "Crusade" and "The Grave of King Arthur," (Works, vol. ii. pp. 38. 51.); but they are, otherwise, rather a criticism than a parody. — C. 28. Potter's Euripides. When he parodied the verses of another eminent writer (1), it was done with more provocation, I believe, and with some merry malice. A serious translation of the same lines, which I think are from Euripides, may be found in " Burney's History of Music." the burlesque ones : — "Err shall they not, who resolute explore Times gloomy backward with judicious eyes; Shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. Here are "They to the dome where smoke with curling play By quiv'ring string, or modulated wind; Her baleful eyes where Sorrow rolls around; "When cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish, 29. Legendary Stories.—Bishop Percy. Some of the old legendary stories put in verse by (1) Malone's MS. notes, communicated by Mr. Markland, state that this was "Robert Potter, the translator of Eschylus and Euripides, who wrote a pamphlet against Johnson, in consequence of his criticism on Gray." It may, therefore, be presumed that these verses were made subsequently to that pubÎication, in 1783. Potter died, a prebendary of Norwich, in 1804, æt. eighty-three. — C. modern writers (1), provoked him to caricature them thus one day at Streatham; but they are already well known, I am sure. "The tender infant, meek and mild, Fell down upon the stone; The nurse took up the squealing child, A famous ballad also, beginning, "Rio verde, Rio verde," when I commended the translation of it (2), he said he could do it better himself - as thus: 66 Glassy water, glassy water, Down whose current, clear and strong, Moor and Christian, roll along." But, Sir, said I, this is not ridiculous at all. " Why, no,” replied he, “why should I always write ridiculously? perhaps, because I made these verses to imitate such a one, naming him : "Hermit hoar, in solemn cell, Wearing out life's evening gray; "Thus I spoke, and speaking sigh'd,— Come, my lad, and drink some beer." (3) (1) This alludes to Bishop Percy and his "Hermit of Warkworth." - C. (2) No doubt the translation by Bishop Percy: "Gentle river, gentle river, Lo, thy streams are stain'd with gore; Floats along thy willow'd shore.' Neither of these pretended translations give any idea of the pe culiar simplicity of the original. — C. (3) [See antè, Vol. VI. p. 299.] 30. Caricatura Imitation.-Fat Oxen, &c. I could give another comical instance of caricatura imitation. Recollecting some day, when praising these verses of Lopez de Vega, "Se aquien los leones vence O ella di ser mas furiosa," more than he thought they deserved, Mr. Johnson instantly observed, "that they were founded on a trivial conceit; and that conceit ill-explained, and ill-expressed beside. The lady, we all know, does not conquer in the same manner as the lion does: 'tis a mere play of words," added he, " and you might as well say, that If the man who turnips cries, Have a turnip than his father." And this humour is of the same sort with which he answered the friend who commended the following line: Who rules o'er freemen should himself be free. "To be sure," said Dr. Johnson, "Who drives fat oxen should himself be fat." This readiness of finding a parallel, or making one, was shown by him perpetually in the course of conversation. When the French verses of a certain pantomime were quoted thus, "Je suis Cassandre descendue des cieux, Pour vous faire entendre, mesdames et messieurs, he cried out gaily and suddenly, almost in a moment, "I am Cassandra come down from the sky, |