The Works of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. in Nine Volumes, Volume 08: The Lives of the Poets, Volume II

In Short

This collection of biographical essays serves as a definitive survey of English poets, ranging from the prominent figures of the late seventeenth century to the mid-eighteenth century. Through rigorous observation, the text chronicles the educational foundations, professional struggles, social entanglements, and eventual ends of men like Pope, Swift, and Gay. It remains a cornerstone of literary history not merely for its factual record, but for its relentless focus on the character of the artist. By examining how poets navigated the pressures of patronage, poverty, and public opinion, the work explores the uncomfortable intersection of high genius and common humanity. It endures as a masterclass in critical biography, stripping away the varnish of reputation to reveal the authentic, often flawed, individuals beneath.

The Story

The narrative arc of these lives is one of ascent, collision, and inevitable decline. The journey begins with those who emerged from humble or uncertain beginnings, such as Matthew Prior, whose rise from a vintner’s shop to the halls of Cambridge illustrates the transformative power of early patronage. This pattern of discovery repeats throughout the volume, though the trajectories diverge sharply based on the subject’s temperament and luck.

William Congreve’s story introduces the theme of artifice; he is portrayed as a man who played loose with his own history, carefully curating his origins to suit his social aspirations. As the collection moves into the eighteenth century, the focus shifts to the volatile world of London letters, where talent was often secondary to the ability to secure a powerful patron. We see this most clearly in the career of John Gay, whose artistic success in the theater was perpetually haunted by his inability to navigate the rigid, often ungrateful, hierarchies of the court. His eventual triumph with The Beggars' Opera provides a rare moment of public validation, yet even this is tempered by the internal machinations and artistic rivalries that defined his circle.

The narrative darkens significantly with the life of Richard Savage, a man whose existence was marked by perpetual crisis. His story is a harrowing sequence of brushes with the law, grinding poverty, and the indignity of begging for support from those he claimed to despise. His inability to manage his own life—or his finances—renders him a tragic figure, one who remained stubbornly cheerful despite a reality of garrets and bailiffs.

Contrasting this are the lives of figures like Alexander Pope and Jonathan Swift. Pope’s career represents the peak of professional discipline; his transformation from a boy who "lisp'd in numbers" to the master of the Iliad is a testament to calculated, lifelong labor. Yet, even in his success, Pope is shown to be a creature of vanity and spite, engaging in petty wars with "dunces" and nursing grudges with a fervor that undermines his own intellectual stature. Swift’s life, meanwhile, traces a path from academic disgrace at Dublin—where he was only admitted to his degree by "special favour"—to a position of profound, if contentious, influence. His later years, shadowed by the death of his beloved Stella and his own declining health, offer a somber meditation on the limits of wit and the isolation of the mind.

The volume concludes with the passing of later poets like Lyttelton and Akenside. These final portraits are elegiac, documenting not just the physical expiration of these men, but the hardening of their reputations. The arc of the entire work is thus a movement from the promise of youthful genius to the quiet, often lonely, finality of the grave, reminding the reader that for all the brilliance of the written word, the man who holds the pen is subject to the same failures and frailties as any other.

How It Unfolds

The emergence of talent The collection opens by establishing the varied origins of these poets, highlighting the role of chance encounters and educational discipline in launching their careers. It emphasizes that while some, like Prior, were plucked from obscurity by noble patrons, others had to survive the rigid and often unforgiving structures of university life.

The struggle for patronage The central section details the arduous process of seeking financial support from the great and powerful. It documents the indignities of dedication-writing, where poets were often forced to trade their dignity for subsistence, leading to a complex web of dependence and mutual resentment.

The rise of professional authorship A significant beat involves the shift toward public success through subscription and theater, exemplified by Pope’s Homeric translation and Gay’s dramatic hits. This transition from individual patronage to the broader public market changes the stakes, creating new pressures for both the artist and the audience.

The clash of personalities The narrative frequently pauses to examine the petty and profound rivalries that defined the literary landscape. It shows how personal vanity, such as Pope’s fixation on his detractors or Congreve’s fabrication of his birth, constantly threatened to overshadow the work itself.

The onset of decay The later beats track the physical and mental decline of the subjects, documenting their final illnesses and the loss of their creative faculties. It concludes with the somber reality of their deaths, often stripped of the illusions that sustained them during their most active years.

The People

The book is populated by men who are defined as much by their contradictions as their verse. Matthew Prior is the quintessential social climber, a man of "obscure original" who successfully reinvented himself, while William Congreve represents the elusive intellectual who uses falsehoods of convenience to protect his image.

The most compelling portrait is that of Alexander Pope, whose life is presented as a paradox of industry and pettiness. He is a man of immense judgment and imagination, yet he is prone to a "petulant" desire to insult the great and a vindictive focus on his inferiors. His relationship with his own work is obsessive; he is a master of the labor of revision, yet he never quite outgrows the need for the petty squabbles that characterize his Dunciad.

Jonathan Swift emerges as a figure of "force and sentiment," whose life is marked by a transformative shame; his early failure at the university acts as the catalyst for a seven-year period of intense, disciplined study. He is portrayed as a man of deep, if turbulent, attachments, particularly regarding Stella, whose death casts a long shadow over his final years.

Richard Savage serves as the tragic foil to these successful men. His life is a chaotic cycle of "distressful perplexities," characterized by an inability to reconcile his social aspirations with his poverty. Unlike the others, he remains detached from his own misery, maintaining a strange, unearned cheerfulness even as his clothes wear thin and his friends desert him. Finally, the inclusion of figures like George Lyttelton and Isaac Watts provides a spectrum of the literary experience—from those who view poetry as a serious vocation to those who treat it as a disciplined adjunct to a life of faith or politics.

In Its Own Voice

Describing the moral character of the men behind the literature is a constant preoccupation for the author.

"Neither the time nor place of his birth are certainly known: if the inscription upon his monument be true, he was born in 1672."

In this passage, the author reflects on the mystery surrounding William Congreve’s origins and his tendency to obscure the truth.

"He was one of those few whose labour is their pleasure: he was never elevated to negligence, nor wearied to impatience; he never passed a fault unamended by indifference, nor quitted it by despair."

This observation highlights the meticulous, unyielding work ethic that defined Alexander Pope’s professional life.

"He was always disengaged and cheerful: he at some times pursued his studies, and at others continued or enlarged his epistolary correspondence; nor was he ever so far dejected as to endeavour to procure an increase of his allowance by any other methods than accusations and reproaches."

The author notes the paradoxical temperament of Richard Savage, who remained lighthearted even while sinking into the deepest reaches of poverty.

What It's Really About

At its core, this work is an interrogation of the value of a life dedicated to letters. It poses fundamental questions about the morality of the author: does a gift for language excuse a lack of personal integrity? The text consistently probes the relationship between talent and character, suggesting that the "splendour" of an artist’s public output is often disconnected from the reality of their private behavior.

It argues that the literary career is not a noble, sanitized path, but a series of negotiations with patronage, vanity, and the physical decline of the body. The author is deeply concerned with the "general degradation of human testimony"—the way men like Swift and Congreve manipulate their own histories. Ultimately, the book serves as a critique of the artistic ego, suggesting that the most refined poetry can be produced by men who are, in their daily lives, governed by "falsehoods of convenience" or an "ambitious petulance." It is a study of how fame, even when earned, does little to protect the individual from the common miseries of existence.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate a sturdy, clear-eyed look at the history of ideas will find this book immensely rewarding. It is not a volume for those seeking a romanticized view of the poet; rather, it is for those who enjoy the "warmth and precision" of a writer who values truth over sentiment. To read these pages is to enter a world where the prose is as sharp as the critiques it delivers. You will find that the rhythm of the language is demanding but deeply satisfying, requiring a patience that mirrors the "perpetual practice" the author ascribes to his subjects.

There are, of course, difficulties. The sheer density of names and the occasional reliance on eighteenth-century social assumptions can feel alien to a modern reader. The text assumes a familiarity with the classics that many today may find daunting, and its tone toward certain subjects—specifically those who failed to navigate the social order—is often dry and unforgiving.

Yet, what stays with you is the humanity of the endeavor. The book captures the feeling of a life being lived in public, under the constant glare of scrutiny. It forces you to consider what it means to leave a legacy, showing that even the most "sublime" work is anchored in the "fragrant bower" or the "garret of an obscure inn." For anyone interested in the labor of writing or the inevitable collision between a public persona and a private soul, this work provides an unvarnished, essential mirror. It is a dense, challenging read, but one that rewards the persistent reader with a profound understanding of what it costs to produce art in a world that rarely appreciates the toll.