Part 24 (2/2)
After _Mother_ had left, went into the Paddock, to feed the Colts with Bread; and while they were putting their Noses into _Robin's_ Pockets, _d.i.c.k_ brought out the two Ponies, and set me on one of them, and we had a mad Scamper through the Meadows and down the Lanes; I leading. Just at the Turne of _Holford's Close_, came shorte upon a Gentleman walking under the Hedge, clad in a sober, genteel Suit, and of most beautifulle Countenance, with Hair like a Woman's, of a lovely pale brown, long and silky, falling over his Shoulders. I nearlie went over him, for _Clover's_ hard Forehead knocked against his Chest; but he stoode it like a Rock; and lookinge first at me and then at _d.i.c.k_, he smiled and spoke to my Brother, who seemed to know him, and turned about and walked by us, sometimes stroking _Clover's_ s.h.a.ggy Mane. I felte a little ashamed; for _d.i.c.k_ had sett me on the Poney just as I was, my Gown somewhat too shorte for riding: however, I drewe up my Feet and let _Clover_ nibble a little Gra.s.se, and then got rounde to the neare Side, our new Companion stille between us. He offered me some wild Flowers, and askt me theire Names; and when I tolde them, he sayd I knew more than he did, though he accounted himselfe a prettie fayre Botaniste: and we went on thus, talking of the Herbs and Simples in the Hedges; and I sayd how prettie some of theire Names were, and that, methought, though Adam had named alle the Animals in Paradise, perhaps Eve had named all the Flowers. He lookt earnestlie at me, on this and muttered ”Prettie.”
Then _d.i.c.k_ askt of him News from _London_, and he spoke, methought, reservedlie; ever and anon turning his bright, thoughtfulle Eyes on me.
At length, we parted at the Turn of the Lane.
I askt _d.i.c.k_ who he was, and he told me he was one Mr. _John Milton_.
A SONNET [Sidenote: _J.K. Stephen_]
Two voices are there: one is of the deep; It learns the storm-cloud's thunderous melody, Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea, Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: And one is of an old half-witted sheep Which bleats articulate monotony, And indicates that two and one are three, That gra.s.s is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep: And, Wordsworth, both are thine: at certain times Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes, The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst: At other times--good Lord! I'd rather be Quite unacquainted with the A.B.C.
Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst.
EPIGRAMS [Sidenote: _Matthew Prior_]
To John I ow'd great obligation; But John, unhappily, thought fit To publish it to all the nation: Sure John and I are more than quit.
Yes, every poet is a fool: By demonstration Ned can show it: Happy, could Ned's inverted rule Prove every fool to be a poet.
DR. JOHNSON AT COURT [Sidenote: _Boswell_]
In February, 1767, there happened one of the most remarkable incidents of Johnson's life, which gratified his monarchical enthusiasm, and which he loved to relate with all its circ.u.mstances, when requested by his friends. This was his being honoured by a private conversation with his Majesty, in the library at the Queen's House. He had frequently visited those splendid rooms, and n.o.ble collection of books, which he used to say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have made in the time which the King had employed. Mr. Barnard, the librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary taste in that place--so that he had here a very agreeable resource at leisure hours.
His Majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased to signify a desire that he should be told when Dr. Johnson came next to the library. Accordingly, the next time that Johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire, he seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole round to the apartment where the King was, and, in obedience to his Majesty's commands, mentioned that Dr. Johnson was then in the library. His Majesty said that he was at leisure, and would go to him: upon which Mr. Barnard took one of the candles that stood on the King's table, and lighted his Majesty through a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door into the library, of which his Majesty had the key. Being entered, Mr.
Barnard stepped forward hastily to Dr. Johnson, who was still in a profound study, and whispered him, ”Sir, here is the King.” Johnson started up, and stood still. His Majesty approached him, and at once was courteously easy.
His Majesty began by observing that he understood he came sometimes to the library: and then mentioned his having heard that the Doctor had been lately at Oxford, asked him if he was not fond of going thither. To which Johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to Oxford sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. The King then asked him what they were doing at Oxford. Johnson answered, he could not much commend their diligence, but that in some respects they were mended, for they had put their press under better regulations, and were at that time printing Polybius. He was then asked whether there were better libraries at Oxford or Cambridge. He answered, he believed the Bodleian was larger than any they had at Cambridge; at the same time adding, ”I hope, whether we have more books or not than they have at Cambridge, we shall make as good use of them as they do.” Being asked whether All-Souls or Christ Church library was the largest he answered, ”All-Souls library is the largest we have, except the Bodleian.” ”Aye,” said the King, ”that is the public library.”
His Majesty inquired if he was then writing anything. He answered he was not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must now read to acquire more knowledge. The king, as it should seem with a view to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to continue his labours, then said, ”I do not think you borrow much from anybody.” Johnson said he thought he had already done his part as a writer. ”I should have thought so too,” said the king, ”if you had not written so well.” Johnson observed to me, upon this, that ”no man could have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a king to pay. It was decisive.” When asked by another friend, at Sir Joshua Reynolds's, whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he answered, ”No, sir. When the King had said it, it was to be so. It was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign.” Perhaps no man who had spent his whole life in courts could have shown a more nice and dignified sense of true politeness than Johnson did in this instance....
During the whole of this interview, Johnson talked to his Majesty with profound respect, but still in his firm, manly manner, with a sonorous voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used at the levee and in the drawing-room. After the king withdrew, Johnson showed himself highly pleased with his Majesty's conversation and gracious behaviour. He said to Mr. Barnard, ”Sir, they may talk of the king as they will; but he is the finest gentleman I have ever seen.” And he afterwards observed to Mr. Langton, ”Sir, his manners are those of as fine a gentleman as we may suppose Louis the Fourteenth or Charles the Second.”
At Sir Joshua Reynolds's, where a circle of Johnson's friends was collected round him to hear his account of this memorable conversation, Dr. Joseph Warton, in his frank and lively manner, was very active in pressing him to mention the particulars. ”Come now, sir, this is an interesting matter; do favour us with it.” Johnson, with great good humour, complied.
He told them, ”I found his Majesty wished I should talk, and I made it my business to talk. I find it does a man good to be talked to by his sovereign. In the first place, a man cannot be in a pa.s.sion--” Here some question interrupted him, which is to be regretted, as he certainly would have pointed out and ill.u.s.trated many circ.u.mstances of advantage, from being in a situation where the powers of the mind are at once excited to vigorous exertion and tempered by reverential awe.
LANDORISMS [Sidenote: _Landor_]
From you, Ianthe, little troubles pa.s.s Like little ripples down a sunny river; Your pleasures spring like daisies in the gra.s.s, Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever.
Metellus is a lover: one whose ear (I have been told) is duller than his sight.
The day of his departure had drawn near; And (meeting her beloved over-night) Softly and tenderly Corinna sigh'd: ”Won't you be quite as happy now without me?”
Metellus, in his innocence replied, ”Corinna! O Corinna! can you doubt me?”
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