sification, however elegant and sublime, in which he describes the storm in his first book; or that Homer would have been, in your opinion, to be commended, if he had related the meeting of Penelope and Ulysses, or the parting of Hector and Andromache, with the same thundering impetuosity of numbers, which he employs upon the stone of Sisyphus, or the horses and chariot of Neptune? JOHNSON. No: I allow, that harmony of style is merely relative, and deserves praise only when it suits the subject: and that the same strain of eloquence, if too long continued, induces languor from its want of diversification, as well as displacency from the appearance of excessive art. ADDISON. Is it your opinion, then, that the pompous uniformity of diction which we find in the Rambler, can please by its variety; or that it can be adapted to each different subject, when it is equally applied to all :-to the trifling as well as the magnificent, to praise and to censure, to argument and to narrative? Do you not think, that the same objections may be made to the structure of your style, as to the sound; if both ought to possess, what you have given to neither, variety suited to the subject? And would not one be apt to imagine that an author, who, by the sound and composition of his language, elevates equally sublime and familiar ideas, might run some risk of falling under the imputation of bombast? JOHNSON. Sir, you grow intolerable:—but when were whigs otherwise? You still forget that you are not now engaged in disquisition with one of the populace of London. Yet I would not have you imagine, that such arguments can affect or change my mind. No, Sir, if I cease to answer, it is more from lassitude than from conviction.* ADDISON. And yet my arguments are not, in my judgment, either tedious or inconclusive. But you promised not to be angry or partial; and I know you too well to entertain any serious doubt of your sincerity. A little irony now and then is a good seasoning to conversa *Though Johnson appears to some disadvantage in this Dialogue, it is but just to remark, that the Author held in high veneration the genius, virtues, and learning of that great man; with whom he had the honour to be acquainted. tion. Tell me now, my good Sir, your real opinion; and let us then amuse ourselves with some topick more suitable to the tranquility of elysium. JOHNSON. Why, Sir, if you will have it, I may possibly allow, that you are partly in the right. If I had my style to form anew, I should perhaps make it, in a greater degree, elegant without constraint, dignified without ambitious ornament, strong without rigidity, and harmonious without elaboration. DIALOGUE II. SOCRATES, JOHNSON, AND A FINE GENTLEMAN. August 1787. SOCRATES. How vain, and how contradictory, are the joys and the wishes of man! How many inhabitants of the earth are now lamenting the death of Doctor Johnson; while we rejoice in it, as an event that adds so valuable a member to the society of elysium! JOHNSON. Aye; what will become of that pack of yelping authors, now when old Johnson, the whipper-in, is gone from among them? FINE GENT. However they may delight in the remembrance of your elaborate conversation, or the elegant title of a yelping pack which you so politely confer upon them; at least they will allow the name of whipper-in to belong not improperly to one, who was much more ready to punish than to praise; and who, fretted by the folly or the incivility of a few individuals, let fly his unmerciful lash upon the whole community of mankind. SOCRATES. My friend let me advise you to be a little more cautious in forming your opinions, and more guarded in your expression; at any rate be not so eager to deserve the reproach you are bestowing upon another :-do not, offended by a little superstition, or disgusted with a little unpoliteness, attack indiscriminately a man adorned with so many excellencies both moral and intellectual. I am somewhat apprehensive, that you might, on this occasion, be convicted of misrepresentation, as well as partiality. Have not many writers, instead of despising or resenting the chastisements of Johnson, been at pains even to collect every fragment of his lash (if I may refer to your own allusion) and to twist them, interwoven with flowers, into an ornament for the head of their master? FINE GENT. Into a scourge for his back, I suppose you mean, good Socrates. Johnson has been compared to Acteon, who was worried by his own dogs: or, if you |